Monthly Archives: July 2012

Dangerous Highway 133

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DSCN0417

Highway 133 in Colorado is rated by the Colorado Department of Transportation to be the 5th most dangerous road in the state. The road itself is impeccable. The blacktop is kept up to standards, there are guardrails on many of the curves, and the striping paint is always well done (except for that one time when the painter wobbled the centerline for about 5 miles. We think he was either hung-over, or it was his last day on the job.)

Nonetheless, there are persistent dangers on the road that I drive seven days a week, not the least of which, are the mudslides. On the most recent episode of “Have Mudslide, Won’t Travel,” I counted no less than 30 spots where the mud came out onto the road.

It reminds me of the time we were headed home and a big slide covered all the width of the road near Redstone, Colorado. It was raining, and nearly dark. Vehicles were backed up, but a few four-wheel drive trucks were coming our way through the mudflow.

I asked my son, Caleb to run up to the slide and see if he thought I could make it through with the Subaru we were in. He came back out of breath with, “Yeah, if you go fast enough you can do it.”

So being in the mood for adventure (when am I not in the mood for adventure?) we hit the mudslide at about 30 mph. It was deeper than I expected, and the rocks were bigger than I would have wanted to go over, but hey, we were in the middle of a quality father-son experience.

The car bottom hit some rocks, and we bounced like a cheap quarter ride at the mall. The car cleared the slide, and we came out the other side with a “Yee Haw!” and a prayer of thanks.

“We may have wrecked the bottom of the car, or punctured the gas tank,” I told Caleb.

“I said you could make it through. I didn’t say you wouldn’t wreck the car,” Caleb replied.

Mud flows can be fun. Just don’t try it at home.

I Flew at Kitty Hawk

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It was a close call. I almost didn’t make it. Thanks to the National Park Service, and my family’s support, I got to fly a plane at the exact, and I meant exact, spot where Wilbur and Orville made their first historic flight. Kitty Hawk, North Carolina.

My plane went right down the exact location where the Wright Brothers sent their historic if not fragile gossamer.

It was in the evening, and we were almost out of time for our launch window. All of the tourists were out of the area, except for a Japanese couple. My support team literally ran to the launch site. There was a lot of shouting and high energy prior to the flight, knowing how significant this would be.

We checked the landing gear, and wings in those final moments.

My kids couldn’t believe I was going to actually do it.

Time was running out

The first flight went better than expected. The Japanese couple snapped photos as if we were doing the first manned flight. I ended up crashing the plane in the weeds about 80 feet from launch.

Then we drug the plane back to the start, checked the wings, and wound up the rubber band until we got double knots. We did one more flight before the Park Rangers kicked us out for the night.

I love flying balsa wood airplanes. I really do.

My One Dollar Cars

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This the second car I bought for a dollar.  The first one was a 1991 Chevy Suburban. That was the car we drove for a 3 week trip to the east coast. The one that had 5 green duffel bags piled on top as we drove through Washington D.C. after 9/11; where you couldn’t drive within 1/2 mile of The Whitehouse, and you could see chain link fences everywhere around the Capitol; and the Tidal Basin was disgusting with litter floating in it.

We were driving the one dollar Suburban through Smokey Mountain National Park when we were stopped by a Park Ranger. Before he let us go, he apologized:  “Whenever we see a vehicle like this one, we suspect it of transporting drugs.”

The new one dollar car is a Toyota Camry. All white. With “Detroit Cammo” on it. The auto shoulder harnesses are annoying. The driver side doesn’t work, and the passenger side does. So I keep forgetting the passenger side works, and I get clotheslined all the time.

I love the new one dollar car. One oil change, and we were on our way. I think we put about 4000 miles on the car already.

The best thing about a one dollar car is that you can eat in it while commuting. You can’t do that in our family  Suburban.

I just wish the air conditioner worked.

Curly Fry Diet

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Every now and then an idea comes down the pike that the whole world should embrace. The “Curly Fry Diet” is just such an idea. Here’s how it works:

At the restaurant, you eat any thing you can that has little or no calories. Lettuce with black pepper on it, celery dipped in water, or unbleached napkins. The idea is to fill you stomach to nearly the point of bursting (like a cheap relative who mooches off of you at Thanksgiving). Then at the last second, you ask someone near you for a curly fry.

“I’m on a special diet,” you nonchalantly say to your french fry host.

When you eat it, the “Curly Fry Molecule” will be activated in your head and then Tweet your brain with: “Those fries were good, but I gotta stop eating now. I’m about to puke.”

Voila!

You just saved about 950 calories, and satisfied the curly fry “crave” molecule.

Look for my white paper in the New England Journal of Medicine.

I haven’t actually lost any weight on the Curly Fry Diet yet, but I’ve saved a lot of money on fries.

Now, has anyone seen any napkins around here?

Dopes at the Grocery

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Is our local grocery store now run by aliens?

Last night Caleb my son said “Dad, get the green peppers. They’re only 99 cents per pound.”

“No, that can’t be right,” I retorted. “They’re supposed to be 99 cents each.”

“Well, the cardboard sign above says 99 cents per pound, even though the plastic sign on the rack says 99 cents each, so get ‘em,” Caleb insisted.

I looked at him and smiled. We had a situation similar to this with Wheaties a year ago (See my blog “How to Leverage Wheaties”). So I let him get a bag full.

We went to the self checkout where you can have the most fun, because people don’t expect you to move fast, have a clue what you are doing, or put 19 dollars worth of nickels in the “Money Sucker” machine.

When the computer rang up 99 cents each, I brought it to the attendant’s attention. She said “They’re 99 cents each.”

“The sign on the produce rack says 99 cents per pound,” I responded innocently.

She called for a “price check” and after a bit of discussion, the guy came back with “They’re 99 cents each.”

With feigned disgust (I was beginning to have fun playing with the system) I insisted that he accompany me to the produce rack where I pointed to the sign that said 99 cents per pound.

“I was going by this,” he said, as he pointed to the tiny 1 inch sign on the produce rack at the bottom.

“I was going by this,” I said as I pointed to the 8X10 inch colored sign above the produce.

The “price checker” guy told the attendant to give us the cheaper of the two prices. After whispered exchanges between employees, frustrated looks, and an apology or two, City Market in Carbondale gave us the peppers for free. They didn’t have a store manager who could override the computer. A wise choice on their part.

“Shrink” comes in all forms at a grocery store. The one that apparently isn’t  addressed at all is “stupidity.”

They should’ve hired me last year when I applied for the manager position in the produce department.