In this episode, I give you an overview of this show, discuss ALL of the republican candidates running for president, why you only need an IQ of 25 to be a “Genius” at Apple Computer, the final catalyst that motivated me to create this show, and more!
Same story, different year. The sense of impending dread creeps in every time a new Thanksgiving approaches. In the weeks leading up to the holiday season, I find myself trying to line up activities in a feeble attempt to stay in shape, trying to maximize the amount of sunlight that hits my face for the next 4 months.
Living in Pittsburgh for most of the last 16 years, I have grown accustomed to the air getting too cold outside (for me) to enjoy the outdoors starting around the week of Thanksgiving. This is the time of year when all of the summer and fall sports leagues are winding to a close. There are only two bicycle related events of any significance around here between Thanksgiving and the end of the year — (The Dirty Dozen, and The Punk Bike Enduro). By the time these events go down, I’ve usually stopped my regular outdoor activity schedule for the year.
I always start out the winter with good intentions, in my best shape of the entire year. I try to feed off that energy as long as it lasts, preparing for the hard 4 months ahead. That first bitter wave of cold air strikes, the furnace goes on for the first time, the clocks are set back an hour, the farmer’s markets close up for the season, and I find myself going into work while it is still dark outside. Walking out of the office after a hard day’s work to find the sun already down for the night — realizing several weeks may go by without seeing it again and I quickly lose motivation for going outside.
All good intentions aside, any body weight I lose between the months of March and November is promptly replaced in the short span between Thanksgiving and Christmas Day. In previous years, I’ve tried several tactics to avoid cabin fever — including regular skiing, indoor soccer, and free activities like climbing the 36 flights of stairs at the University of Pittsburgh’s Cathedral of Learning — (such a popular activity in the winter months you can always expect company for your misery).
This winter has been especially challenging to make time for activity due to some major life changes, both good and bad. On the bright side, I am spending a lot more time with my family now and the one-year-old makes it harder to get out. The onset of winter was heralded by the theft of my beloved 1996 Jeep Cherokee (a.k.a “Muddy Waters”) — kidnapped and returned to me by the police after a high speed chase where thugs smashed it into a curb at high speed. They destroyed the unibody and several expensive suspension parts. Since Muddy Waters had the auto insurance equivalent of “Obamacare,” the death panel deemed him not worthy of being saved.
If the search for a new vehicle was stressful enough, it was promptly followed by a very stressful move that took from mid-December through the end of January to complete. One would think moving into a house with 40 concrete and wooden steps leading up to the front door would aid in bending over to tie my shoes while retaining the ability to breathe simultaneously, but sadly this is not the case.
This is why the only way I am going to be able to continue typing is by removing my belt, unbuttoning the pants and sitting in front of the laptop “Al Bundy” style — (with the exception of keeping both hands available for typing).
Ahh… Much better!
I need something to keep my mind focused on the good times coming around the corner. Seeing how it’s less than a week before the first outdoor adventure of 2011, it makes sense to chronicle the adventures from 2010!
Frustrating as it is waiting for the arrival of spring, I’m quite thankful my overall situation has improved from a year ago. Last February, Pittsburgh’s record for the most snowfall in a single month was shattered as the result of the blizzard of 2010 — or “The Snowpocalypse” (as most of us were calling it) — putting down 48.7 inches by month’s end.
It goes without saying that the local ski conditions have never been better. It is the first time since I started skiing that all of the trails at Blue Knob Resort were fully open. If I actually owned a pair of skis, the conditions inside the city limits of Pittsburgh were better than the norm at the local groomed slopes. I’ve always imagined what it would be like to “urban ski” some of our steep hills should there ever be enough snow, but these guys beat me to it…
However, without my own skis this activity becomes much too expensive for the unemployed. I was fired from a crappy startup on September 11, (ironically) after my new son was born on September 9, (yes, 9-9-9). I chose to be at the hospital for his birth instead of work.
Needless to say, the stress leading up to winter was already piling up faster than February’s snowfall well before the arrival of Thanksgiving.
I spent most of last winter without a job, trying to avoid becoming homeless and keep some heat in my house. Skiing last winter was completely out of the question, due to the cost. I actually found myself working at a new company the first week of January, but only 3 days after “Snowpocalypse” I was laid off and back on the unemployment rolls. The severe weather had forced most of the clients I was dealing with out of their office for weeks. Several outstanding proposals that were already stalled in the approval process completely broke down.
With all of this fresh snow on the ground during the first week of March, a good friend of mine called me very unexpectedly and asked if I would accompany him for a day of skiing — HIS TREAT!
AWESOME
My new best friend wasn’t going to be available until the 15th. With weekday rates being cheaper and no pesky job to call in sick to, that worked for me — even though a lot of the new snow could melt by then. I wasn’t being picky.
Tom didn’t need to call me and cancel the trip. I just assumed it was off when (in typical Pittsburgh fashion) the temperature soared to the mid 70s the weekend before our scheduled adventure. The trails at Blue Knob were completely shut down, just a couple of days after having been fully open.
To summarize (now that I’m more than 1,000 words deep into this prelude) — I was equally sick of the winter of 2010 as you are most likely tired of reading about it. Getting screwed out of a free day of skiing was ok because the arrival of good weather provided a better opportunity to enjoy the outdoors.
TIME FOR THE FIRST CAMPING TRIP OF 2010
My good friend Wade and I couldn’t agree more. Due to my employement situation (or lack thereof), and other factors, we decided to camp for the weekend at a new spot we found close to home. One goal of the 2009 camping season was to find a place less than an hour’s drive from downtown Pittsburgh to camp.
I found some spots after exploring near Avella, PA the previous fall when a friend took me on a weekend tour of the area. A few weeks later, on a freakishly warm 70+ degree weekend in November, we found a place that seemed like the best camping location in the area.
The location was superb — a large rock outcropping over a fast moving part of Cross Creek. The rock is perfect for a campfire (and is permenantly blackened showing many others agree). The view from the site is great, and the sound of water moving through the rapids is soothing while sleeping. While you can see cars approaching the area from the site, it’s not visible from the main road while driving in a vehicle.
In my opinion, one drawback is the location’s proximity to a railroad line. The soothing effect of the rapids is offset when you are woken up by the shaking ground and sounds of a large freight train passing through in the middle of night. The tracks are less than 50 feet away from the creek and our spot was sandwiched between them. Fortunately, this rail line is seldom used and you will only see a couple of trains in a 24 hour period.
As the saying goes — “one man’s garbage is another man’s treasure” — and my friend Wade happens to be a “railfan,” a photographer of trains, a “trainspotter”, or as some would say — “a foamer” — (a term the railroad employees call someone who takes this hobby a bit too seriously)…
I don’t think Wade gets quite as excited over seeing a new train, but he’s traveled all over the United States taking photos of them.
If you are anything like Wade, the proximity of the train tracks to this campsite becomes an additional attraction! Since he keeps a copy of most North American railroad schedules in his head, it was nice to know what time to expect the arrival of the trains over the weekend.
Access to the site requires a short drive through a muddy, tree riddled 4 wheel drive trail barely wide enough to accomodate a standard SUV — and a few mud holes that could completely swallow a standard car. It’s only a quarter mile back to the creek so parking on the side of the road is an option. The trail crosses the creek at a fast moving point right before the short stretch of rapids, and more trails extend from this point through the game lands.
This time, our friend Becca followed us to spend an evening sitting around the fire drinking with us. Because she showed up with a Honda Civic and the back of my Jeep was full of camping gear, her only option (without getting her feet dirty) was riding on the console, straddling the shift lever, with each foot planted firmly on the dashboard. She admitted to never having “gone muddin’” before, and I can’t imagine a better way to experience it for the first time.
We were in for a surprise when we reached the creek crossing and found what was once an ankle-deep stream had turned into an almost-waist-deep torrent of fast moving water. I suppose that’s what happens when 50 inches of snowfall melts in a single day…
…SHOCKER!
I was Determined to camp in the prime spot, even though we were perfectly secluded where we stood. Since it only takes 2 feet of fast moving water to move a vehicle and I might need my Jeep for a job interview or something — I got out and scouted around for a safer place to cross the creek and a trail connecting to the prime camp spot.
Unfortunately, I was able to find one.
Wade and Becca were ready to unpack the Jeep and set up camp where we stood, but after giving it serious consieration, I said “What the hell, let’s do this!” and Becca climbed back in to the comfy middle seat.
The scouted route involved 2 creek crossings, and a rough transition from a muddy bank on the opposite side to the trail opening. Just getting to the 2nd creek crossing was rough (just ask Becca) — resulting in a new dent for my passenger side door.
At the second creek crossing (the scarier of the two), I had one last opportunity to turn around. This could end very badly. Maybe I’ll make it across the creek and get stuck on the opposite bank — or even worse, stall out in the middle of the creek.
I took a deep breath, gunned it, and we zoomed right across the creek just fine!
A sigh of relief fell over me after realizing there was plenty of of traction to maneuver on the other side. The only obsticle to reaching the superior campsite at this point was an incline from the muddy bank to the trail head. We had plenty of room to maneuver and could easily get back so my worries were gone.
I tried several times to get the Jeep over the incline onto the trail head but the mud was too soft. We tried approaching from several angles and decided it just wasn’t going to happen. It was so late in the day it made sense to give up on this and just get our camp set up.
We started turning around to go back across but the agony of defeat kept nagging at me to give it one more try.
After trying to reinforce the muddy incline with a few horizontally placed logs I aimed the Jeep and went full-bore onto the incline. While the general direction of the land was UP, we found ourselves moving DOWN as the Jeep started to sink deep into the soft mud. I could feel that all 4 wheels were completely buried in the mud, and my fears were confirmed when Becca got out of the Jeep and started laughing out of control adding — “Yeah, you’re fucked dude!”
When I couldn’t open the driver’s side door because it was partially buried in mud — the realization of exactly how hard I’d been fucked set in. After pushing hard against the door to plow away the mud — it felt weird climing up to get out of a truck I originally climbed up into.
The problem (other than the Jeep being buried up to the doors in mud), was that one of the rear wheels had found a soft spot below the water table, and my lack of a rear locking differential was causing the slipping wheel to take power away from the other. The only way we’d be leaving this place would be getting traction under that rear wheel.
While having a bit of a panic attack in my mind — in an act of desperation, I began frantically digging with my bare hands around the stuck wheel (a shovel would have come in handy right now). We shoved sticks and anything we cram under the tire in a feeble attempt to get traction. Since the wheel was sitting below the water table, we could not dig the wheel out (the hole just kept filling back in), nor could we get anything of significance underneath without a shovel and jacking up the rear end.
The sun was setting and we knew damn well the Jeep wasn’t going anywhere. We now have 2 days and several options for saving it. If unable to free the Jeep, another friend with a brand new Hummer H3 was due to arrive the following afternoon — complete with the full tow package. Considering this was a brand new H3, I was determined to not be responsible for it’s first dents and scratches (and the additional ridicule that would follow).
Even though we still had several options at our disposal, the worries started to creep into my head. Since I don’t think my standard AAA membership is gonna help me out to much with this situation, I started to wonder how much a tow will cost when a 4WD trail with 2 creek crossings and a mud bog on the opposite side are involved.
Mentally, I just needed to go find a Shovel and get this thing finished.
Wade had another idea. “Look at where we are. Let’s just go to the bar and ask for help. Everyone out here drives a big pickup truck and you KNOW one of these drunk rednecks is going to all about taking their truck back there to help us out. Lauging at you, mixed with a round [of Iron Citys] will probably be enough compensation. The worst thing that can happen we end up drinking some beers, then come back to pass out in the tent and deal with everything tomorrow.”
That plan sounded good to me.
On the way we stopped at a burned out shell of a house because we saw a forklift crate and several 4X4 beams laying on the ground. These could prove themselves quite helpful for propping up the back wheel and getting it above the water line. We arrived at Jack’s State Line Inn and sure enough — the parking lot was packed with large 4-wheel drive trucks and other off-road vehicles.
Jack’s State Line Inn is an old-style roadhouse tucked into the middle of nowhere (of nowhere), right on the Pennsylvania / West Virginia State Line (ironically). Let’s just say this is the kind of bar where if you order a beer that comes in a glass bottle, they call you a “high roller.” What makes the place memorable are the hundreds of dollar bills people have written messages on and scotch-taped to the ceiling (along with a couple braws and panties). It’s kind of like an upside-down redneck wishing well! In these hard economic times, you’ll know they are in trouble if you ever walk in to an empty ceiling.
I never had to ask for help after walking into the bar. Being covered head-to-toe in mud was enough to make me the center of attention. As people approached my friends wondering about the idiot covered in mud, it only took about 10 minutes to make some new friends who offered to help out…
A LITTLE DITTY — ABOUT J.T. AND DIANE
(2 grown up kids we met in the heartland)
It only took a few minutes of our new friends, J.T. and Diane making fun of me before I had a new name — “Babblin’ Billy.” Now, I’ve had several embarassing nicknames over the course of my life but this one was completely out of left field. First of all, my name isn’t Billy, and secondly, I wasn’t really doing any of the talking! Regardless, I didn’t care. They can make fun of me all weekend, so long as my Jeep is out of the creek before Monday.
After one last display of public humiliation where I was forced to sign my own Dollar Bill to hang on the ceiling of shame (as the “Idiot with the Blue Jeep”).
We left to go pick up J.T.’s Wrangler to see if we could use it to get my Jeep un-stuck. J.T. has a pretty nice older 4 cylinder Wrangler — old enough to have one of those clip-on seats in the back that just fall out of the hooks when you hit the gas real hard.
Too bad the circus wasn’t in town because we could have driven right into center ring and astounded the crowd by how many clowns we fit inside that thing. I’ve never fit 6 people in my Cherokee, let alone inside a tiny little Wrangler. Becca got a seat upgrade for her second back-roads muddin’ experience — draped across the laps of 2 dudes on a wobbly back seat while Diane held her 15 year old daughter on her lap in the front passenger seat…
GOOD TIMES!
Thank god this is almost over.
It didn’t take long after getting back to the trailhead before J.T. started to show some “concern” about how far back we’d have to go on the trail to reach my Jeep. After the first creek crossing, his mood went from concerned to pissed off. He was about to turn around and leave but Wade kept encouraging him to continue on, explaining that the only “scary” part left will be the second creek crossing.
Upon reaching the bank of the second crossing , J.T. wasn’t going any further — “NO FUCKING WAY! What the HELL were you thinking driving back there? You’re a fucking idiot! You aren’t getting your Jeep out of there!” I have to admit the scene looked much worse at night — the rapidly moving water in front of us looked much more dangerous when the surface was all you could see.
J.T. tore ass out of the woods much faster than he drove in — with a combinatioin of cursing and hysterical laughter slowly fading away as he left us stranded in the woods again.
In the meantime, Becca had recently walked back to her car to leave for the night, assuming that we were going to be fine. Wade and I overtook J.T. in the woods on foot as we chased after Becca. If she left for the night we’d be completely screwed — we didn’t even have a SHOVEL at this point. Thankfully, she was parked along the side of the road where she could view our situation — and was waiting to make sure we were going to be OK.
TIME FOR PLAN B
We typed “Wal-Mart” into Becca’s GPS, and drove off to find some shovels. The Weirton, West Virginia Wal Mart was closest to us. As much as I dislike shopping at stores whose names end in “mart” — these will provide your only salvation when you’re stuck in the mud after midnight in need of a shovel.
Since the GPS directed us to an empty parking lot — we pulled into the local Sheetz to get some directions to the new Wal Mart, some coffee, and a snack. While sitting in the parking lot, a tricked-out Jeep Wrangler pulled up next to us — complete with a major suspension lift kit
This guy agreed to help us out, but needed to run to a friend’s house to get the winch controller. He told us to wait and he would be back within a few minutes…
ONE HOUR LATER
Seriously, all I wanted to do from the onset was go to fucking Wal-Mart and get a god damn shovel!
We came to the conclusion that “Mr. Fancy-Jeep” isn’t coming back. Since we had no way to contact him it was time to hit up Wal-Mart (finally), and grab some shovels.
We were some of the first customers to Weirton’s brand new Wal-Mart. In fact, I almost had the distinction of being the first person arrested in the Weirton’s new Wal Mart when, upon walking to the lawn and garden section we could not find shovels and a store employee said…
“We’re sorry, but we don’t have any shovels.”
I completely lost it. While I’d kept a cool head throughout the entire ordeal (now into its 6th hour) — I started flipping out. A few minutes later, an employee (a sweet old lady) heard my bitching and offered to help us out. She walked over to some unopened boxes, opened them, and to our surprise found 2 boxes of shovels (both square point and round point). We bought one of each and as a result, were the first customers to purchase shovels in the brand new Wal-Mart.
Unfortunately, my only prize was a chance to be featured on the “People of Wal-Mart” web site…
We made a brief stop at the automotive section to pick up a recovery strap
While shopping, we noticed there were way too many kids that looked like they needed a place to hang out because “Hot Topic” was closed for the evening…
I was amazed at how many “goth kids” live out in the middle of Hillbillyville, West Virginia . Thousands of them had swarmed upon Wal-Mart that evening in anticipation of the new “Twilight” movie release. Of course, in typical Wal-Mart fashion they had two cashiers to handle the influx of 5,000 kids — (who were screaming way too loud for a bunch of morbid, depressed children).
Even though I chose the shortest checkout line, I got screwed by a guy buying a hard drive that kept coming up as the wrong price when the cashier scanned it. We stood there for more than half an hour watching the cashier re-scan the item before the dipshit finally called a manager over.
In typical Wal-Mart fashion, instead of pulling the guy aside to keep the lines moving, the line ground to a halt. People were fussing and giving each other that “Can you believe this shit?!?” look, sighing loud enough to make sure the cashier and managers could hear them, and of course I was yelling near the top of my lungs that — “These fucking idiots need to get their fucking heads out of their fucking asses and get these fucking lines moving! Why the fuck are they so fucking stupid!?!” Some angry parents started screaming back at me “Watch your mouth MISTER! Can’t you see you are surrounded by CHILDREN!”
Honestly, I don’t think anything came out of my mouth that these little assholes haven’t heard before…
When it looked like the manager was about to call the police (they were gathered together, pointing and looking at me, while whispering to each other), I decided to keep my mouth shut and be thankful I was able to find a shovel at 12:30 in the morning, (even if it meant we wouldn’t be back to the Jeep before 3AM).
3:00 AM (GIVE OR TAKE)
I have no idea what the hell time it was when we finally got back to the trailhead. We unloaded our new gear and the wood gathered from the burned out house, and sent Becca on her way. I hope she had fun!
We hiked back to the Jeep and I immediately started digging even though Wade just wanted to set up the tent next to the Jeep and crash for the night. I just wanted to get a feel for how much work was in store for the next day. We dug for about 10 minutes and cleared a nice area behind the rear bumper, which was previously under mud, then set up the tent and quickly passed out.
DAY TWO
The sound of birds chirping, along with enough light to see without a flashlight is all I needed to get motivated. I was determined to regain my Jeep’s freedom by lunchtime.
After about 4 hours of digging, Wade awoke to find the Jeep almost completely free from it’s muddy grave. I had dug a 3 foot wide trench around the entire vehicle, and removed all of the mud from underneath. The mud underneath the vehicle was very difficult to remove. However, because the weight of the jeep had compacted it to the consistency of a brick, if I didn’t remove it parts were going to be ripped from underneath the vehicle when we move it. Getting rid of any resistance would also help considerably once we jacked up the rear wheel. I had the jack ready, a board in place to support the jack. All we needed to do was grab the forklift crate and wood from the burned down house, jack up the slipping wheel, throw it in reverse and get the the hell out!
On our way over to our stash of lumber, we ran into a young couple walking through the trails. “Are you the guys who got stuck back there last night?”
Word spreads quickly in a small town, especially when the story eminates from the local watering hole.
We pointed down the trail leading to the first creek crossing. “Oh, I can’t get my truck down there,” this guy said as I just shrugged my shoulders and continued walking towards our lumber stash. I’ve grown used to dissappointment at this point and just wanted my truck out of the mud.
“I’ll be back, give me a minute…” The guy said as he drove away with his girlfriend.
Assuming I’d never see them again, we carried the forklift crate and lumber back to the Jeep and just as I was getting ready to jack up the rear wheel, we heard a rumbling in the distance. Looking up, to our surprise a blue Ford tractor was seen working its way through the woods toward us.
This guy drives across the creek with his girlfriend sitting on his lap without hesistation. Since his tractor had a grader on the back, he took a minute to finish the job I’d started with the shovel. We wrapped a chain around the rear axle and gave it one quick pull to get the rear wheel unstuck.
I handed over enough cash to pay for a case of beer and some grub, which they happily accepted, and we all drove merrily across the creek…
FREE AT LAST!
I was in such a hurry to get out of there I forgot to take the tow strap off my roof! I didn’t even bother waiting for Wade to finish packing up the tent and sleeping bags either… Whoops!
We went back to the original spot where we should have pitched our tents and promptly set up camp. We wanted to just pretend that incident never took place for the rest of the weekend, but it was hard due to the massive amounts of mud everywhere.
With the tents set up, a fire started, and the chairs set up, it was about time to demonstrate…
ANOTHER GOOD USE FOR A NEWLY PURCHASED SHOVEL
Normally I wouldn’t root for the browns to get into the Super Bowl, but after last night’s jalepeño pretzel from Sheetz, it would have beat playing on natural turf. Right around the 2 minute warning, I heard the distinct high-torque rumbling of a Wrangler on the road that winds around the hill above us. I could see a white vehicle moving through the trees and I wondered if our new friend was passing through the neighborhood…
“HEY STUPID!”
Confirmed.
I look up from the throne and see J.T. standing on the hill looking down on us. He actually came back to see if we still needed some help! “How the hell did you guys get back there?” Wade walked out of the woods to guide him back to our spot. Call it fate, irony, or just plain Karma — Was it wrong to laugh my ass off when J.T. found himself stuck in the mud on his way back to the campsite?
It’s good thing I picked up that recovery strap the previous night!
He was stuck in a mud bog close to the campsite and it didn’t take much effort to pull him out, crack them’ beers open, and sit in front of the campfire — with my full cooler where I remained stationary for several hours. I’ve had enough “adventure” this weekend. By the time I got up off my ass, my shadow was pointing in the opposite direction and I found out how drunk I was when I stood up on my feet!
It felt so good sitting around a nice campfire with friends old and new. It wasn’t easy, but I prepared a nice dinner of barbecue chicken breast sandwiches, roasted sweet potatoes, and asparagus using nothing but a small cutting board and my “Spatchaknifong.”
Most people I camp with tend to bring easy-to-cook foods — like dogs, burgers, and pre-cooked things you only need to warm on the fire, or things you can throw into a mountain pie maker. When I re-kindled my outdoor spirit several years ago, most of the people I camped with were chefs, so we tended to cook gourmet meals you’d have a hard time beating in a 5 star restaurant, let alone a campsite.
J.T. had left to pick up his wife and daughter, and my friend with the new Hummer H3 showed up. Upon his return, J.T. got stuck in the mud AGAIN! This time we used the H3 to pull him out since my Jeep didn’t have tow hooks, and it was time to get some mud on that brand new Hummer. Getting stuck a second time deflected most of the laughter in his direction for the remainder of the weekend!
And don’t go thinking Wade made it through this weekend without his share of ridicule! Some of the weeeknd’s hardest laughter came after he thought it would be a good idea to swing from a hanging vine like Tarzan, but ended up like George of the Jungle…
Now that I think about it, that net would’ve been handy in his situation. When the vine that Wade’s drunk ass decided to swing on snapped — he landed flat on his back with a loud…
THWACK!
… you could actually feel as he hit the ground!
That pretty much sums up the course of the second evening. We ate, drank, and were quite merry. I think J.T. got stuck in the mud again on his way out, but I don’t remember much about the rest of that night.
DAY 3
I woke up hangover free. I’ve spent enough Sundays going to worship, (kneeling at the porcelain pew) — to know my limits, and rarely surpass them. It was nice to sleep in, and wake up naturally. We kicked the fire back into gear, and sat around eating my usual “egg slop” breakfast, continuing to work on those beers and lightening the cooler.
When it was time to leave we packed up our mud caked belongings and headed out. We ended up on the wrong trail and I ended up with a nice new dent in my rear bumper when I backed into a tree stump in an attempt to turn around! My Jeep looked almost brand new when I originally bought it used a couple years ago, so this weekend gave it much more character. I’ve only seen one other bright blue Jeep Cherokee in the time I’ve owned this one, but it never hurts to have some distinguishing features.
Our weekend wasn’t quite over with yet. Thanks to our new friends, we found out about the Sparkle Market. A local grocery store which was running some insane specials, especially on meats. In fact, I was able to pick whole beef tenderloins for $17 each when they typically cost $40 - $60 in the grocery stores closer to home.
LESSONS LEARNED
CONCLUSION
It took 2 trips through the automatic car-wash before I finally stopped at a quarter-fed pressure washer to get the mud off my truck. I followed that up with a premium car wash — where they vaccum your vehicle and wipe everything down inside you watch through a window. Months later, I could still see remnants of those mud splatters whenever it rained.
I’ve never been one to give names to my vehicles, but after this weekend my sky blue Jeep Cherokee was hereafter known as “Muddy Waters.”
The Drunk Cyclist
Freudian slip of the week when speaking with a coworker about problems with our VERSION CONTROL system.
My crazy life is a big reason I wanted to start blogging on a regular basis. I have no idea what is going to transpire between the moment I wake up and when my eyes finally force themselves shut for the night. While most people BELIEVE they can say the same about their own lives, I’m going to use this past week as my first example of how my daily experiences and extremely weird coincidences are things most would consider rare if it happened to them.
Everyone from my mother, girlfriend, good friends, and family CONSTANTLY remind me about the dark cloud that’s always been hanging over my head. Psychologists like to babble about how you can bring these things on yourself with negative thoughts, or how your thoughts will eventually manifest themselves into reality.
While I believe there is some merit in this philosophy — I’m sorry, I just don’t think that accounts for even HALF of the crazy things I experience in what I consider a “normal” day.
I ALMOST GOT “SHANGHAIED” IN CHINATOWN!
Alright, an observant reader will quickly realize that Pittsburgh does not have an actual “Chinatown” — nor does the proper definition of the word “Shanghaied” really apply in this situation — but it caught your attention.
Last Thursday my girlfriend craved some Chinese food. Lin’s Asian Fusion in the South Side has pretty good take-out compared to any of the other places down here, but I felt this would be a good opportunity to try one of the restaurants along my new commute. I took the risk and chose one I’ve never been to — The No. 1 Chinese Kitchen on Brownsville Rd.
You should always be cautious when ordering at a new restaurant as you never know what to expect. Is the food full of MSG? Are the General Tso’s “knuckles” crunchy enough? Do we get a free egg roll or soup with our order?
In my case the appropriate question was — “Will your food be ready, allowing you to get out of the restaurant before the armed man in the red ski mask holds up the restaurant at gunpoint?”
Luckily our food was ready in time. We found out about the robbery the next day while browsing through the pitiful Comcast TV lineup, thinking it would be funny to watch the local news. Neither one of us had watched a crappy local news telecast in quite some time.
We had no idea how hysterical it was going to be.
I’m quite certain this was a sign from above to never order from The No. 1 Chinese Kitchen again. The cat meat wasn’t the worst I’ve had, nor was it the best. It’s your typical Chinese take-out joint — complete with the 1970’s fake-marble Formica counter tops, and the same stock photo menu of dishes they don’t even sell above the counter you find in all Chinese restaurants of this type. The food quality was average for Chinese take-out — nothing special. With an abundance of restaurants in the area, I will do a quick background check on the next location before placing a call!
Moving on… I know this may sound foolish, like something from the mind of a crazy conspiracy nut, but from experiences I’ve had in the past, and the crazy incident from Monday I’ve been led to believe that…
CAR DEALERS HAVE A DEVICE TO DISABLE YOUR VEHICLE REMOTELY
Maybe it’s the time that my car had a severe breakdown the exact day I made the final payment, resulting in almost $1,000 in repair costs. Perhaps it was when I took a vehicle in to replace an exhaust manifold gasket, only to have the alternator completely fail 10 minutes after leaving the dealership.
Most likely, it was a combination of those, along with an incident from Monday at the dealership where I purchased my 2006 Jeep Liberty Renegade a few months ago. I had some minor issues with the harshness and timing of shifts in my transmission. Other people drove it to verify, making sure it wasn’t in my head — (a case of new car paranoia). They agreed something was definitely wrong.
The Jeep is a certified pre-owned vehicle, with a 90-day “Bumper to Bumper” warranty that ends this week, which made it a good time to have this problem looked at. The service manager was fairly rude from the onset of my arrival. He said some things I wanted to have checked were not covered by the warranty, (even though the parts are between the 2 bumpers). I narrowed my list down to the essentials — the transmission and removing the slack from my parking brake.
I was in the service department for 5 minutes, then my girlfriend handed me her keys because she hates city driving.
I pulled out of the dealership and less than 200 yards later her car COMPLETELY BROKE DOWN in the middle of the road. The engine sputtered out and died. While I was able to get it off the road, we were stranded with a vehicle that wouldn’t start and another in the shop!
Unless you have valid reason for taking your vehicle to a dealership for a repair — DON’T. Dealerships don’t give a shit about the quality of their work, or their reputation, and will certainly charge you much more than an independent mechanic for the same work. They count on most people never coming back after the sale. The service departments exist for the purpose of prepping vehicles for sale, and shutting down customers with problems after the sale. Auto dealers never expect to see a customer show up again after they are done raping you, just as you wouldn’t expect a serial rapist to attack the same woman twice.
Every time I’ve heard of someone (including myself) taking a vehicle to a dealership or corporate garage (like Sears), the result was another horror story.
Since we were stranded on the side of the road waiting for a tow truck, it made sense to go pick up the Jeep before they started working on it so that we could get ourselves home. I walked back the dealership and the mechanic had the hood of my Liberty open. The service manager walked in, told him what happened, and the mechanic promptly closed my hood and drove the Jeep out of the garage.
Now guess what it costs to have a dealership pull your vehicle into a bay, and then open and close the hood (even though you have a “bumper to bumper” warranty)…
If you guessed $45 you were correct! These bastards literally charged me $45 to open and close the hood of my vehicle. Of course they didn’t see anything wrong with my transmission but I was required to pay for the “labor” which isn’t covered under warranty.
The rude service manager started copping an attitude when asked why I have to pay when there’s a “bumper to bumper” warranty the sales people said would cover ANY problem in the first 90 days. The sales manager said that the warranty only covers certain drivetrain parts and does not cover labor, and also has a $100 deductible. The sales people told us that for the first 3 months the warranty covered everything on the vehicle, and the deductible only applies to the 6 year power train warranty after the 90 days is up.
I’m just glad I picked up the Jeep before they started adjusting my parking brake and I ended up with a $500 bill.
Everything a car dealer tells you is a load of BULLSHIT.
And I mean EVERYTHING.
Just because you have a “Bumper to Bumper” warranty, and the aforementioned part happens to lie between the front and rear bumper, don’t expect the dealership to give a shit about the promises made by their douche bag sales people.
I am just going to leave the name of this particular dealership out of my blog because they are no worse than any other car dealer. If you want to know who the really bad auto dealers are, there is a simple test you can perform. Anyone can do this and it requires little knowledge about vehicles or the automotive industry as a whole. Simply pull into a lot with cars for sale and you are now sitting at a shitty car dealership full of people who want to rip you off.
CAR DEALERS SUCK, I GET IT, WHAT HAPPENED TO THE OTHER CAR?
The tow truck operator showed up and before hooking up the tow cables, got into my girlfriend’s car, turned the key, and of course the car started right up. He left it running for 5 minutes, revved up the RPMs, and asked if we really wanted to have it towed now that it was running.
We decided to have it towed anyway because it would suck to drive another 200 yards after he leaves and wait an hour for another truck to arrive. The tow operator took the car, and I decided it would be better to go into work than sit at home pissed off about everything for the rest of the day.
I was trying to explain to my girlfriend the quickest way to get home from my office. She took the Jeep in case she needed a vehicle that day.
While trying to explain how you just go straight up South 21st St. to avoid all of the traffic on Carson and — “FUCK!” We turn the corner to find South 21st street completely blocked off with traffic cones, cop cars, and police barricades. “Nevermind, just go the way you know how,” I said to my girlfriend as we pulled up to the front of my office.
There’s a welfare office in the same building where I work that draws a most “interesting” crowd on a daily basis. My coworkers and I can spot anyone and place bets on who’s getting off on the 3rd floor before they even walk in the building. I just assumed the police were on the scene to break up an altercation with one of these pieces of trash before I noticed the actual reason for all the commotion.
A large crowd will always gather to watch the chaos…
WHEN THE WALLS… COME TUMBLIN’ DOWN!
OH MY GOD, IT FINALLY HAPPENED!
On the way into work every morning I’ve been watching this brick building across the street from my office gradually buckle outward, trying to predict the day it’s finally going to collapse. For months, a very large brick wall has been popping outward, bending the drainpipe out along with it. While it was obvious to anyone who looked at it, most people these days don’t pay any attention to their surroundings. I’ve pointed out this building to more than a few people at work while walking out for lunch.
A wall of bricks will only bend so far before it turns into a giant heap of rubble.
In hindsight, I wish I’d taken the time to call a building inspector, or at least bring this to the owner’s attention because now I have to find a new place to get my girlfriend’s cigarettes.
The media and building inspectors are blaming the collapse on the “freeze-thaw” cycle, saying the brick facade was pushed away from the main structure as a result of water freezing and expanding between them. While that is probably the case, this building had a very distinct kink in the brick wall going back to the middle of last summer when I first noticed it.
I find it hard to believe the owner (or anyone else) failed to notice, since it was obvious to anyone I showed it to.
In my humble opinion, it collapsed because we have no building standards in Pittsburgh. I have yet to see a 90 degree angle or a level surface since I moved here in 1994. Even brand new construction around here is plagued with shoddy workmanship, poor construction methods, and problems that could be avoided if people simply took a bit of pride in their work.
We have a brand new courthouse that almost collapsed, and to this day sports crooked floors and broken staircases. Our new convention center was and has been a construction nightmare, and people actually died while building it. It seems the only buildings around here that are built using a square and level are the new stadiums and sports arenas.
IN CONCLUSION
This post is getting too long (my biggest challenge will be writing a blog entry with less than 1000 words). The only other items of note from last week include…
FANCY MOUSE TRAP UPDATE
My ghetto mouse trap from my last post didn’t work. I ended up putting together an elaborate system to feed a mouse some peanut butter. The next morning, the trigger was free of bait, and the trap never sprung.
We said “Fuck it,” ditching the humane method and set up standard spring-loaded mouse traps. Once again, this little prick licked peanut butter off the trap placed next to his hiding spot and vanished without springing the trap.
Several days have passed since, and we haven’t seen the mouse or any of his “evidence.” Is it possible for a mouse to overdose on peanut butter? The next time we set a trap, I’ll poison the bait so that if the prick gets away, he can die in agony, wishing he’d just sprung the trap getting it over with quickly.
WE GOT THE CAR BACK
We brought the car home after the mechanic let the car run for hours and performed all kinds of tests on it. They finally gave up and called letting us know they could find nothing wrong with it.
It just doesn’t make any sense. The car absolutely broke down completely and would not start. Then, one hour later it’s perfectly fine?
Maybe I was able to coast far enough from the Jeep dealership to get out of range of their remote vehicle disabling device.
We have the broken sink, water heater, (and our furnace that also broke), situation under control now (more on that later), but while waiting 4 days for the opportunity to take a hot shower, we found something NEW to deal with. My insomnia as of late revealed a cute little field mouse taking up residence underneath a built-in cabinet in the dining room…
Maybe it it’s because it took me 3 hours of digging through boxes to locate the majority of my tools when the water heater broke and I have no idea where the mouse traps are located. Perhaps our recent screening of “Dinner for Schmucks”
We decided to find a way to trap the mouse without killing it. Someone suggested using a glue board to catch it, followed by putting some vegetable oil (or who knows what else) on the mouse to release it from the board and back into the wild. I think that idea was a little bit ridiculous myself, as there is probably a much simpler solution out there.
As a child nobody knew the rules of the game “Mouse Trap,” but we were all really good at putting the damn thing together…
Maybe I could use some spare parts around the house, except I don’t know if I have an extra bathtub, bowling ball, laundry basket, diving board, and I really don’t feel like hiring a high diver to wait around all night for the mouse to come out. I had to scale back a little, but the necessary parts for making a “humane” trap were readily available. We have an ample supply of peanut butter, a baking pan, small flashlight, and a couple of shish-ka-bob skewers — which may come in handy should this trap actually work (ha ha).
My improvised trap, not nearly as complex, is an improvised version of a traditional “deadfall” trap used since ancient civilization, and your favorite TV wilderness survival show hosts
The peanut butter is smeared on the pointy end of a skewer, which is then laid across the flashlight in a “see-saw” fashion. The pan is balanced precariously on the point of the vertical skewer which is balanced equally precariously against a junction on the lower skewer. When the mouse goes for the peanut butter on the pointy end of the stick, that movement should be enough to dislodge the skewer and hopefully trap him when it all collapses around him.
As stated before, there’s may seem to be no rhyme or reason regarding what I’ll be posting on this blog. I am just posting helpful information to the masses with no expectation of reward in return. The usefulness of this trap extend beyond pest control. If the blizzard of 2011 finds its way to Pittsburgh and the grocery stores run dry, those calories will help you last another day. And should you find yourself locked up in prison, pets are a wonderful source of companionship…
Blogging has been the easy ticket to fame and fortune for so many schmucks out there so far, but I think it’s going to be a long time before I am invited to make my first appearance on Letterman…
Who the hell are you and why should I care?
I’m just some idiot — and much like most others I know — who’s sick and tired of watching even dumber people rise to unfathomable heights of fame and fortune just for being a dumb ass on the internet. I don’t expect to get famous, rich, or that anyone will actually stop by and read the ramblings of a mad man.
So then why are you blogging?
Honestly, I don’t know. It’s surely not due to an abundance of free time for if I had any, I wouldn’t have waited 7 months to make the first post. I’m a cyclist, photographer, multimedia designer, artist, father, activist, adventurer, handyman, bike mechanic, and who knows what else on any particular day.
It should be fun to have a forum to share the various adventures (or mis-adventures) that take place in my crazy life. Last year alone, I went on 12 camping trips with adventures ranging from — a solo 80 mile canoe trip carrying a bicycle to ride back to the Jeep when finished, to being lost in the woods of Maryland with friends, generally blowing things up, getting a Jeep stuck on the wrong side of 3 creek crossings in mud up over the bottom of the doors, wine tasting in the Finger Lakes, urban camping within the city limits of Pittsburgh, PA — and much more. I think at least one of these could make for an interesting read.
Along with these stories, I plan on providing practical information so that you might come back for more. Adventures with maps listing things to do in an area, photos, videos, advice, and more. Maybe I’ll share some handy bicycle repair tips, or home repair tips such as — “How to repair a broken water heater” (once I figure out how to do it myself this week). Maybe this forum can help others learn from some of my mistakes and at the same time make new friends and gain wisdom to help avoid making new ones.
I will also be “no holds barred” reviewing gear and specialized techniques from several years of adventuring (how many camping blogs are going to teach you the best way to secure a 6 pack of premium beer in glass bottles to a hiking backpack, providing both enough ice to keep them cold and easy access to the bottles)? Most camping related web sites I see are run by a bunch of tree-huggers who carry their poop around in plastic bags and bring it home with them — (I wonder if the bears and other animals who shit in the woods appreciate the effort).
If I try out a company or product and it sucks — I can’t count the number of times Burger King charged me for cheese and never put any on my chicken sammich’ — this makes a great way to bitch about them in a manner that could hopefully show up in Google searches and help the company lose a few more potential customers.
You never know what you might find on this blog. Political discussion, ideas for your next adventure, gear reviews, general ramblings, tips on how to fix your bicycles, computers, web design tips, or whatever else I feel like sharing that day.
I sincerely hope that people will leave feedback and prove to me that someone actually read this!
Are you a dangerous drunk cyclist?
Several years ago, I was asked by several people at a friend’s house one night why I rode my bike over to go bar hopping, and countered “If I get hammered as we plan on doing tonight, I won’t be worried too much about the police — Have you ever heard of someone being pulled over for a ‘BUI’? And, having to keep my balance on this bike provides a nice fail-safe indicator of my ability safely to ride it home.” Logic most appreciated by one of the girls living there who was required to install (at great cost) a breathalyzer interlock system in her vehicle as a condition for getting back on the road after a DUI.
I have since discovered that you CAN get pulled over for a “BUI” — and in some states, you may as well be driving because the penalties are equal — (check with your state’s laws before strapping that 40oz to your water bottle cage).
Needless to say, I was unable to ride the bicycle home until the following afternoon. An added benefit of biking to this party was that it is entirely possible to sweat out a nasty hangover and feel better after a 45 minute forced bike ride, (followed by some Long John Silver’s). This insider’s secret to curing a hangover is by eating at a restaurant that cooks every item on the menu with a deep fryer.
Several months later, an unfortunate incident while canoeing across a lake resulted in a new cell phone being completely swamped. This phone was supposed to keep all of its data backed up on a cloud server so that in the unfortunate incident of losing the phone, you wouldn’t lose your contacts. After exchanging it for a new one, I found out that service did not work properly, and every single one of my contacts were GONE.
OK — So why the ridiculous domain name?
It was time to set up a new email account to sync with the new phone for the sole purpose of having a contact list that I never have to worry about losing again. Long gone are the days when I can remember phone numbers for even my best friends. In fact, since I have started carrying a cell phone I can no longer even remember the number for the land line of MY OWN HOUSE. At the same time, I wanted a new email address that is completely spam-free for close friends only.
Being a web and multimedia designer for a living, it is part of my job to come up with catchy domain names for both myself and clients. Over time, that job has become progressively tougher. While I have too many interests to list, my favorite activity is cycling. It made perfect sense to create this domain name based on that.
Several months later that I started thinking it may be a good idea to start a blog to share all of my adventures with the public, and who knows — potentially find my “Golden Ticket.” Maybe this will result in making some new friends, getting some good feedback and advice, picking a fight or two (or several), finding cool ultra-secret camping spots — I’m up for anything.
It’s been 1 year and 7 months since that first thought. It’s been 7 months since I created this Tumblr account for this purpose. Today I decided to take the plunge and create a first post to keep my mind off other things.
Thank you Tumblr for making this easy
I’ve used the Tumblr API a few times to help clients set up easy to maintain news sections for their otherwise static web sites and appreciate the simplicity vs. other blogging tools available (mainly Wordpress, and Blogger). The API will make it easy to integrate this content into a larger site should I outgrow this format in the future.
Domo Arigato Mr. Goroboto
It is pretty sad (pathetic actually) when a graphic designer with 15+ years of experience elects to slap a pre-designed theme into their blog instead of being creative enough to come up with something on thier own. Considering it has taken me 19 months from conception to action for creating a single blog post, imagine how long it would be if I decided to go all-out and create the design of this site on my own!
After sifting through the hundreds of free themes you can instantly integrate into your Tumblr blog, I chose the one you are looking at. You can see at the bottom of this page, my theme was created by one Mr. Goroboto and I am the 58,219th person who found this theme desirable. Please don’t get my blog confused with the other 58,218 copycats out there.
I chose this theme because it is very clean and minimalistic. There aren’t any blocks of content that my lazy ass would need to fluff up for the site to look complete. Most importantly, this theme is one of the only ones that I tried out where my title fits in the allotted space!
Before I figure out how to modify this theme to make it appear as if I came up with this style all by myself, I thought it would be nice to give credit where credit is due. Mr. Goroboto made it really easy for me to get my lazy ass started on this project — and for that I say thank you thank you…
