Biker trash

I hear some people talking about what trash some bikers can be. I’m a biker. Well, not really. I used to be a biker. Well, that’s a stretch also. I used to bicycle. I used to ride in high school for fun. Before I got a drivers license, I used to bicycle to my job as a lifeguard at a pool. After college, I decided to get a state-of the art bicycle and bike for fitness. For about four or five years, I used to ride about six days a week and ten to twenty miles a day. I had some great and horrible times on that bike. Getting caught out on skinny race tires in the rain. Watching Joe Pool Lake fill up. I even got hit by a car. I saw the idiot coming. He was bombing along on a gravel road off Joe Pool Lake. I was doing about 20 miles per hour and had the right of way, not that it mattered. About the time I realized that I couldn’t even slow down, he realized that he better hit his brakes for the stop sign. Try doing about 20 MPH on a gravel road and then lock up the brakes. It’s like slowing on marbles. He slid through the intersection and clipped my rear wheel in the process. Somehow, I didn’t get knocked off. But the idiot nailed the accelerator and took off! My wife came upon me sitting on the grass looking at the pretzel that was my rear tire.
I still have the bike, but have not ridden much in 20 years. Marriage, kids, building onto the house, no place to safely ride, all played a part in my bike sitting for 20 years.

About 10 years back, I did spend a few boring weekends and rebuilt my bike and my wife’s. I took them apart, cleaned them, put in new grease in all the bearings. They then continued to sit, but it was good that I rebuilt them.

A few weeks back, I got the idea to start riding some on weekends. I thought of this instead of my daily five mile walks, which is yielding sore feet and ankles. So I decide to get a new helmet and gear. I drag out my old biking shoes and find them dry rotted. I look at the tires and they are UV rotted. I purchase new tires, inner tubes, shoes and other gear. I then go about taking my bike apart. Except as I disassemble things, everything is found to be in great shape due to my rebuild some ten years before. I do have a time getting the old tires off, as they were so rotted. I also find my rims just a bit out of true and have to remember how to adjust the spokes to properly true up the rims.

So after a few nights and weekends cleaning, greasing and adjusting, the bike finally got ridden for 15 miles.

Meanwhile, the wife got wind of this project and requested her bike also be rebuilt!

Then she batted her eyes at me.

Here’s a shot of my bike trash. And a photo of the rebuilt bike.

Two and one half inch nipples are not big enough

I was messing around with two nipples. They were both two and one half inches (2.5). You would think that would be big enough. These nipples were a nice color and all hard. I guess it depends on what they are attached to.

These were attached to a new forty gallon gas water heater I got to install.


I’d gotten home from a Monday Night Band practice so it was late, about 10:30 PM. I was already exhausted, as my work had phoned me at 4:15 AM to fix a problem. Around 10:45 PM, I went to get a shower and turned on the hot water. The master bath is about the farthest from the water heater, which lives in a closet in the garage. I waited. I waited some more. After about five minutes, I quit waiting and went and asked the wife if she’d gotten any hot water. I was thinking that the dishwasher ran late, a load of clothes was washing when I’d come in. I know the middle school kid had taken a long bath. Maybe we were just out of hot water. Forty gallons only goes so far. The wife said she’d not gotten any hot water and had given up. Since the middle school kid was still awake, I asked her and she said she’d gotten hot water……….but not much. This didn’t sound too good. Out I head to the examination room in the garage. I knock and enter the examination room. The tank is not well. He’s got a bladder issue. If he had a leak, there should be water in the drip pan, except I didn’t have a drip pan. So he’d been slowly relieving himself on the examination room floor. A slow drip. At first I suspected some bladder infection. I quickly ruled that out with a quick glance under him. Then I suspected the worst. Yes, a STD. You know, I’d heard a few strange noises from his room in the garage. And perhaps he’d even opened that garage door and snuck out into the night. Into danger. Into the arms of some floozy hot water heater. Who knows what all had been in her. It could have been lime, salts, shoot even fluoride could have caused his slow drip. I continue the examination as to why the slow drip has caused the patient to experience chills. I shine my flashlight under the patient and see that the slow drip has extinguished his flame. What a sad ending to an old friend. Terminal Leakess, flame-us interuptus. I guess he died happy, as he was 15 years old. Old age for water heaters. I hope when I die, I don’t dribble in my shorts. Here is a photo of the old heater, the flex pipes, the busted cut off valve, once I’d gotten it all out.


So I lie awake for a time and run through my mind all the parts and steps needed to remove the dead corpse of the old water heater and to install a new one. I’d even installed the dead one about fifteen years before. I’d also installed a thirty gallon electric unit in my work shop. I’d installed a thirty gallon gas unit in another part of our home. I’m an experienced water heater installer! So I fall asleep with plans to stay home from work and replace the heater. Except I already knew there would be at least two issues to overcome. The cut off valve at the water heater didn’t function any more. The cut off valve to that part of the house, worked, but the handle was about 75 percent rotted away from moisture. So I figured to get the family off to school and work and go purchase the new tank, drip pan, brass nipples and ribbed flexible connection fittings. I even bought a fresh bottle of lubricant. Pipe fitting lubricant. Once I had everything in place, I’d go to the water meter and cut off the water to the entire property. My first priority would be to get the old tank out of the way, the old brass connections cut away and a new cut off valve put on. Then, I could turn the water on to the rest of the property and at least flush the toilets and wash my hands.

I got the new tank home. I slowly and carefully remove her from her cardboard clothes, and plastic wrapping. In her nakedness, was beauty. I examine all the parts with it. At the hardware store, I’d purchased two, two and one half inch long, ¾ inch brass nipples. They were beautiful! All shinny and hard. I almost regretted lubing them up with Rector-Seal. I go ahead and install the new brass nipples in the expansion valve and also into the water inlets. Once I put them in, I realize that they were a bit small! Too short really. Shoot, another trip to the hardware store. Except there seemed to be some size issues. They have the 2.5, but no 3 inch nipples. I opt for four inch nipples. Real men always opt for the bigger ones.

Just after lunch I call a friend to stop by and we hoist the new heater into place. He was on a time crunch, so I work around the new tank to get the valve in place and the new connections soldered on. I leave the cut off valve in the off position and turn on the water at the water meter and rush back to check for leaks. No leaks! I then turn on the hot water in the kitchen sink, just inside the door, and turn on the water to the new water heater. She begins to emit some groans of pleasure as she fills with cool water for the first time. After a few minutes I shut off the water in the kitchen, but then I begin to hear an ever loudening hissing noise. I double check, but the natural gas is still turned off. Has the new water heater already become displeased to be hissing at me? Usually it takes women at least 10 minutes to start hissing at me. I start lovingly caressing her ribbed connection tubes. Does she not like the ribbed action? I find the hot water out tube, has a pinhole in it! It was defective from the factory! The hissing is the air fleeing through the pinhole. I’ve heard of condoms with holes in them before. I shut everything down and fire up the plumbers’ torch to remove the tube to return it for another. I just hope this is the only glitch in this process.

I finally get back with the new hose and solder it on and connect it to the heater. I hope she likes this one better! It seemed to have the same ribs as the last hose, but what do I know. I start filling the tank again and this time there is no hissing noise. I then busy myself connecting up the natural gas connection and start trying to turn this lady on by lighting the burner on this baby. Our old heater took the old standby method using matches to light the pilot light. This new one has a pieso igniter. You rotate her switch to PILOT, push her button to start the flow of gas, and then punch the igniter button and watch for the pilot to ignite. I try this for about five minutes with no luck and no flames. This is one cold woman! I then suddenly notice that she has also started to cry! SHOOT! The hot water nipple seems to be leaking! I try tightening. Still leaking a lot. I switch that nipple with the other one, to rule out a busted nipple. Still leaking at the hot water nipple fitting! I come to the sad conclusion, that this mother is DEFECTIVE! By this time, the day is shot and I’ve still not got this baby on fire. I call the hardware store who says they will gladly exchange it. What a lot of work to remove the new one, and return it! But, I have no choice. I begin to drain the 40 gallons and disconnect all the pipes and fittings.

Thankfully, they took it back and with all new fittings on, everything came apart easy and within two hours, another hot water heater was in place and ready for a test. She fired right up on the third push of her igniter button, lighting off with a roar. I still had a very minor water leak on that same Hot Out nipple, but nothing like the first leak! I mop up the leak, tighten the nipple a bit more and hope for the best. Two hours later, we had hot water for showers and the leak was almost stopped. I guess the cast iron insert in the water tank, had to get all close and comfortable with my shiny new brass nipple.

I hope she is happy for fifteen years! By then, I will opt to let the professional plumber come and have his way with her old dead and worn out carcass.

While typing up this blog entry, I was listening to Robert Palmer’s (RIP) Addictions (VOL 1). Addicted to Love (which my band had been working on), Some Guys have All the Luck, Bad Case of Loving You, Simply Irresistible and Some Like it Hot. All seem to be strangely appropriate songs when dealing with nipples on water heaters.

Danger Will Robinson!

Sometimes, it really is Monday. My Monday started at 4:14 AM. Yes, AM. Work called up with a production problem. By 4:20, I had it figured out and started issuing a command to speed the data recovery up. By 4:25 AM, I have the recovery job submitted. By 4:45 AM, the job has done…………nothing. Zip. It’s asleep, which is what I should be doing. I call operations back and tell them to watch it and when done, they can kick something and they would be back on track. I head off to bed, but don’t sleep much before DING! 6 AM and time to get up! I hit snooze at least twice. Until operations calls again, tells me why my job was asleep when I should have been, why it now failed and could I please try and fix it again. OK, up and off to work.

So I arrive at work about 7:30. I work on the second floor. You have to flash your badge at the security reader and listen for the KLunKK, which means the door magnet has released and you can enter. I hook it in and the first floor double doors sense my barely awake presence and open the doors for me. See we have these automatic door openers. Except I just turn and head up the stairs where the second set of automatic doors await me. Except either I’ve fallen asleep walking up the stairs, or the door sensor is asleep. In my groggy state I’m trucking along while my brain is trying to cope with the un-normal act that the doors are NOT opening. DANGER WILL ROBINSON!! DANGER!!! I get about one foot in front of the outward swinging doors, which are not opening, before I get my body stopped and try and comprehend just what action to take. Should I write some code? Should I stop and start a rescue fire? Should I call the mother-ship? Wait, I remember. Reach out, grab the handle and open the door! Yeah, that works.

So a while later, after tea, water, coffee, and my brain informs me that it is time to return the rental deposit on all the fluid intakes. Remember we also have Open Sesame doors on the restrooms, but you have to wave your hand at it. So I head over to the men’s room which also takes you close enough to the magic doors that they always sense you and open. They don’t open. Must be still busted.

So on the way out of the men’s room I wave at the towel dispenser, which does work. I wave at the Open Sesame deal, which also fails to work. I’m thinking that my entire electro-mechanical field is in serious trouble, except NONE of the magic doors seem to be working.



It was after lunch before Robbie-the-Robot got the doors all working again.

Public Introduction to the PROM-mobile

We survived our daughter's first high school prom. I'm not sure she did.
So most everyone knows that the Pope has a Pope-Mobile. The bullet proof, mostly glass car he gets driven around in. We have a 1995 Toyota Previa mini-van. We bought it when the daughter in high school was about four and her sister was one. So there are still odors coming out from those back seats that were left over happy meals, there are balls of bubble gum stuck in all the ash-trays and cup holders. There are stains in the carpet......I just don't want to know. In it's day, the Previa was a stormer. It has the supercharger on the motor and could burn rubber. After being trashed by the kids, well it isn't pretty.
When now-junior daughter started asking about driving a car, I told her that we should probably buy her mom a newer car and she could take over the Previa. I didn't know a kid's eyes could pop out of their heads that fast! After a few more discussions about cars, I named the Previa the Prom-Mobile. This did NOT go over at all well. I stuck to my guns. The Previa seats seven, so does a limo. It is easy to park, a limo isn't. It doesn't require a hired driver. The van has lots of chips in the paint. It has some small hail damage. The paint on the roof is flaking off. The supercharger drinks oil like a drunken sailor. There are a number of oil leaks, all have been fixed at least once, and continue to leak. The seats are ripped. The plastic wheel covers are cracking from UV, they are scratched from hitting curbs. One is even missing for that "white kids from the ghetto" look.

I guess I shouldn't complain much. That Previa has over 200,000 miles on it now.

I lost. She got a 1999 Corolla.

And a few photo's from the prom. Six kids went in the limo. Eight came back and played Apples to Apples, and watched Blazing Saddles until 5 AM. Daughter and her date. Both looked stunning. All the kids did.


And the "secret agent" spy photos.


And loading up the limo, on a dead end street (limo driver used the drive ways to turn around and then backed down the street)


And the kids having fun.

AaRNold...is that you?

I was driving over to help out a family friend and the local golden-oldies started playing a James Taylor tune. They are playing Fire and Rain. They sometimes also send over the stuff that displays on the radio face plate, the station, the call letters and the song name and artist. I'm a bit tired, with Prom weekend and all, but this had Station number, Station call letters, and "JA MES" for the song. I just thought of Governor Schwarzenegger.

What?

It's prom weekend. We live on a dead-end street. It is 18 feet wide, but the poor limo driver gets to pick up eight teenagers at our place. That should be interesting. Then we get asked that at 1:30 AM when they get dropped back off, that some of them get to hang out. OK.... Better than some club or someplace. Throw in a dear friend of the prom kid, is also back in town and staying with us.
I might go sleep in the garage.....

You did a search for what?

I got some poor slob who did a search to find out about their "bleeding skin pores". They landed on my blog. I hope they seek a doctor and not my stupid blog.