Category: Cranky old guy stuff

Sports Trucks and Carnies

Sports Trucks and Carnies

Before starting out on this tale, allow me to apologize in advance to long-haul truck drivers and carnival workers. You gotta make a living somehow. It’s just that some of us have a harder time understanding than others.

Anyhoo.

The other half and I took off from the homestead early last Thursday morning headed to Ohio for my high school reunion. A little less than twelve hours later, we were in Carbondale Illinois at an Italian fast food place called Fazoli’s, sucking on something resembling chicken and having a good time with the grandchild, the step-daughter and her husband, and the step-son. Was I frazzled after the drive? A little. Between the sports trucks and the “Carnies” on Interstate 40 between Little Rock and West Memphis, we had an adventure.

I have been told time and again that adventure is where you find it. What made the first day of the trip an adventure were the long-haul truckers in what my father used to call “Sports Trucks”, trying to get past a convoy of carnival food trucks headed east.

I’m not going to rag on the truckers too much. They have a lot on their plate, what with limits as to how long they can be on the road and having families back home who want them home a few hours earlier then they usually arrive. I get that. But getting around a convoy of any sort can be frustrating when the fellow in front of you is passing that convoy doing, say, 68 and the truck he’s driving can only do 69. Not only frustrating to the truck drivers, but frustrating to drivers like me, headed to see children and grandchildren in another state.

We managed.

After fighting the clog for nearly an hour and passing the carnie convoy, we decided to pull over at a rest stop and have lunch. I figured that by the time we finished having lunch, the convoy would be past us and we would be clear of the mess, headed to our first destination. No problems.

Until the convoy showed up at the rest stop just as we were having our lunch.

Wouldn’t you know it, every available parking space in the truck side of the lot was full, and one of the vehicles belonging to the convoy was taking up a couple of parking spaces on the cars only side of the rest area. And then came the oversized load which could not get past the vehicle from the convoy taking up a couple of parking spaces on the cars only side of the rest area.

My plan to exit, stage right, was impeded by the truck which couldn’t move because of the other vehicle parked in his way. It took about 5 minutes for the vehicle’s driver to realize that he was impeding traffic. We waited another five minutes after the lane was cleared before moving on.

Fortunately, that was the most frustrating moment for most of the rest of the trip up and back. There were moments spent with orange barrels (still in-season) and the usual idiots deciding that they preferred driving in the left lane – that is, until 100 yards from where they need to exit. But that’s another story.

I had a chat with Dave, a friend of mine from high school, over lunch at a small family cafe in Kentucky. He and I came to the conclusion that sometimes, getting off the Interstate and using federal or state highways is the way to go.

Even going long distances.

I’ll have to try it sometime.

On the other hand, you miss some of the more interesting roadside attractions, like Uranus Missouri.

It’s a tourist trap. Plain and simple. I’ve been there twice in the past four months because of the wordplay involved.

I’m a sucker for wordplay.

With slogans like, “The best fudge in the world comes from Uranus,” you can understand the number of jokes coming out of the place. Some people may be offended. I get it. There are others like me who appreciate the word play, offensive as the word play may seem. At any rate, the place is colorful and kitschy all at once. And the fudge, well, it’s passable. The fudge at Mackinac Island seemed better, but the last time I went there was many moons ago and another thousand miles out of our way for this trip.

At any rate, we’re back. The fudge is gone, and what we have are memories… something I will blog about in another day or two.

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Numbers

Numbers

I have an obsessive/compulsive relationships with numbers.

For instance, this morning, I was almost home from a doctor’s appointment when I saw the odometer on the better half’s car reading 188880. Less than two blocks from the house. I just HAD to take a turn through the neighborhood until the odometer read 188881. Seriously. Now it does. Now I’m happy. The next goal is 199991, followed by 200002. If we can quit playing whack-a-mole with the car’s cooling system, I’ll be as happy as a pig in mud!

As for my car, the odometer read 62622 when I dropped it off at the dealership for some repair work before taking a trip later this week. I’m paying more than enough for the work to be done, and am looking forward to seeing 62626 when I pick it up later today. If the dealership’s service deparment runs it over that magic number, I’ll certainly let them know.

Car odometers aren’t the only numbers I am obsessed with. Take the trip I’m about to take. I have several entertainments lined up.

One of them – “Are we there yet?” – has to do with mileage stickers on Interstate highways. I’ll see a sign saying “East Smorgaswitch – 103”, and then look for one of the mileage stickers posted along the highway. I will then calculate what the sticker will say when I arrive at East Smorgaswitch and for fun, will guesstimate the amount of time it will take me to get there at my current speed.

Oh, and I calculate what the odometer will read when I get there.

When I’m not calculating miles to go in my head, I’m listening to old radio shows on the satellite radio station, keeping up with the body count on the mystery shows.

And as a fan of Douglas Adams’ Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, I know the ultimate answer to the ultimate question about life, the universe and everything is 42. Problem is that no one knows the question, so, 42 remains an interesting enigma.

I suppose my obsession with numbers may have started when I was on the radio. We dealt with minutes and seconds and had to make sure that each message was accurately timed. We also worked it so that we would “hit the post” at the top of the hour to merge into network news. Disc-Jockey jargon. Hope you’ll understand.

Anyway, as I am counting it, I will be taking the dog Filbrix to “Doggie Camp” in 48 hours, 7 minutes and 18 seconds from the time I complete this sentence. (18 is another favorite number which came up while I was in college) When I head to the gym later today, I plan to be on the treadmill for 44 minutes and 44 seconds and/or just go for 45 minutes even. I’ll only be 16 seconds short of that second goal, you see.

Maybe I’ll stretch it out to 45:54 just to make things even!

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Banned Books

Banned Books

The big news this past week has been about a book published by someone no one knows which proclaims the former President is no less than the Second Coming of the Christ. Friends of mine who find the premise utterly ridiculous, have suggested that the book be banned or burned.

This in spite of the fact that one of the bigger topics these days is the banning of books by certain right-wing advocacy groups. The question comes up in my mind about the proverbial “Slippery Slope.” Have we started down that slope, or what?

We all have something in the back of our minds which we really don’t want to know about. Things like how candy corn is made, or how the economy of some Pacific Islands is based on bird poop. We are wired in such a way that we are easily “curated” to think in ways we are told to think. Heaven forbid that we read something which may be foreign, yet challenging to the way we are told to think.

In a discussion I had this morning, I recalled the time when the Harry Potter books were first published. Cries of “Witchcraft!” or “Wizardry” were heard far and wide, mostly from people who probably hadn’t read the books. I read them out loud, to my children. I saw nothing wrong with the stories, nor did most of the other people in my circle at that time.

Classics, like Mark Twain’s “Huckleberry Finn” are on some contemporary banned books lists – probably because the black character in that story was humanized.

Books are not necessarily pretty. Just looking at my bookshelf now, I’m looking at a couple – “The Devil All The Time” and “The Heavenly Table” – both of which would be considered “Depraved” by some. My mother turned me on to author, Donald Ray Pollock, after she read his first book, “Knockemstiff.” I’ve met the man. Quiet, unassuming. But what he wrote was entertaining and filled with incidents which makes one wonder what’s really going on in the author’s mind. In contrast, my Pollyannish attempts to come up with a decent, saleable novel don’t hold a candle to what Mr. Pollock has already written.

I may have strayed a bit.

Part of my point is that there is plenty of literature out there which is offensive to one group or another. Just because I don’t like something, I don’t have the right to keep you from enjoying something I don’t care for. For that matter, there is plenty of other media out there which can be deemed offensive. Almost daily, I catch bits and pieces of people who don’t like Fox News, or who complain that the big three networks are biased and need to go away. Sometimes I agree with a particular opinion, other times I don’t.

Agree or disagree, it’s important that various viewpoints are out there. Maybe there are times when someone will cross a line and find that the viewpoint they once held in contempt really isn’t that bad after all.

Minds can change, if you let them.

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Treadmill

Treadmill

Well, it had to happen sometime. The better half and I finally decided that laying around and avoiding the heat all summer had to stop, so, we joined a gym. We are in the second week of going to a small gym in Princeton three times a week to hit the treadmill and one or two similar machines to improve our stamina, lose some weight and do something about our heart health.

To the point at which we started getting three digit temperatures, I would get out at least three times a day with the dog Filbrix on walks varying from one to five miles, depending on a number of factors. Obviously, three digit temperatures led to two walks per day of around a mile each, before sunrise and after sunset.

The local walks with the dog Filbrix led to a familiarity with certain features along the route. There are people who notice me and my canine companion; one of them stopped me at the local grocery store – hailing me as “The dog walker.” There’s a gentleman I’ve seen before who has had problems with his knees – he walks a Pitty (much to the dog Filbrix’s interest) on a regular basis. He gets around much better these days.

Other people on the route include the Asian woman with the two “Yappy Dogs” who somehow manage to be out at the same time as we are – the truck driver up the street who has the grown daughter who visits and rollerskates when she is visiting – the waver who always tells me to have a blessed day (and blesses the “doggy” while he’s at it – and Joe, the work at home guy who is good for a general conversation now and then.

Filbrix’s doggy pals include a trio I’ve nicknamed Larry, Curly and Moe, a dog I refer to as “Snarly” because all she used to do was snarl as we went by, and another “Yappy Dog” I’ve nicknamed as “Lit-tle Flearanch.” Dad always referred to unfamiliar dogs as “Flearanch.” If the people living with me at the time the dog Filbrix came to live with us had a slightly different sense of humour, I might have named her Flearanch. Just to be different.

Hmmm… strayed a bit from the theme I began with. No matter. Walking a treadmill is different than walking around a block or on a rail to trail, trail. The scenery doesn’t change much. There’s a gas station across the street. There’s some entertainment value in checking out the price of gasoline on the markee. Not much, but some. Since we go to the gym at rush hour (we get there by going the back way), I get to watch traffic get jammed up on US 380. Seen one traffic jam, you’ve seen them all. And then there are the occasional younger women who turn my head – but just a little, since the better half is usually on one of the adjacent machines.

And I really don’t mind talking with my wife. We exchange notes, figure out what we’ll eat once we get home, and discuss other topics which need to be discussed without my being on the computer keeping up with the peeps, writing on my latest project(s) or working on other non-writing projects.

Results? Well, it’s really too early to tell if this habit I’m trying to establish is doing me any good. Other than the occasional twinge, the routine hasn’t been detrimental. If the doctor is impressed with my efforts, he will let me know next month. I hope that the cholesterol numbers will be down (again), as well as the weight (which has been slowly creeping up due to the inaction caused by the triple digit temperatures).

Time will tell.

During the meanwhilst, I have an appointment with a treadmill three times a week.

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ERCOT – You’re Welcome – NOT!!!

ERCOT – You’re Welcome – NOT!!!

This morning we recieved notice from our electric provider and the Electricity Reliability Council of Texas (ERCOT) that we are going to be in a pickle this afternoon because of the expected high demand for electricity due to our overly hot weather. Sorry to hear that, ERCOT, but there’s an old saying out there which states, “Poor planning on your part does not constitute an emergency on my part.” I have done some prior planning by having an array of solar panels installed on my house. Doing my part, you see. Heck, I even “donated” 846 Kilowatts into the system between May 15th and June 15th. “Donated” is not quite what happened – I was not given credit for what I generated above and beyond my own needs during that billing cycle.

It’s a long story. The short and skinny is that I have done ERCOT a favor by generating excess electricity and sending it into the grid at what amounts to my expense.

And it ain’t the first time it happened.

Before the power grid fiasco in February, 2021, the better half and I contracted to have solar panels put on top of the house. We got the go-ahead and had a start date which incidentally came in the middle of the time ERCOT had their power hiccup. Not a problem. We waited another fortnight for the installation and had everything up and running by the first part of March.

When the panels were up, I called Reliant to get on a solar buyback program. It is important to know that Reliant is nothing more than a billing agent – a middleman. The electricity we use comes from an entity known as Texas New Mexico Power (TNMP). Reliant gave me the information on a solar buy-back program. I told them I’d go for it. They came back and told me that I needed to pay a contract termination fee before they would switch me over to the new plan.

Uh, no.

It took me several phone calls and the better part of an hour in hold hell to finally convince someone that I was not terminating service, but moving on to a new plan. That was the good news. The bad news was that it took them one (if not two) billing cycles for Reliant to catch up to the fact that I was sending them (and by extension TNMP) electricity at no cost.

After that, no problem – at least until last February.

I got a notice from Reliant that the solar plan was going away and that I would be slammed onto a month-to-month plan in the very near future. I called Reliant to ask what was going on. They told me that TNMP was no longer buying electricity from those of us with solar panels. After scratching my head for a short while, I called Reliant again, specifically asking if I was going to be credited for the power I was sending back in the grid. Their answer was that I most assuredly would be credited for the power I was sending into the system under the plan I was being slammed onto.

That assurance went away on June 24th when I opened my electric bill and noted that the line item crediting me for the electricity sent into the grid was missing.

Tried contacting their chat and had a totally unsatisfactory “conversation” with an agent who told me that I needed to call their “Solar Solutions” team. While the “Solar Solutions” agent got the issue resolved (I’m back on a solar program retroactive to June 16th), I am still more than a bit miffed that Reliant led me to believe that there would be no change in the way I would be compensated for sending power into the grid. I am also miffed that the agent told me that if I was to terminate the two-year contract I was about to enter into, there would be a termination fee attached to that termination.

So here I am. Sitting at the computer on a Monday afternoon, wondering if there will be rolling blackouts because of a lack of electricity in the grid here in the Lone Star State. On their part, they have an emergency. Still should not be counted as an emergency on my part.

Thanks for letting me unload. I feel a little better now. I’ll feel a lot better when I get my 846 kilowatt hours back.

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