Rants

Not Even Close

I redeemed the $50 gift certificate for our 20th place finish in the 2014 Moss Motoring Challenge. The cockpit cover we have been using needed replacing. We have already replaced the side elastic and the velcro would have to be next, as the all three spots it is used were no longer staying stuck reliably. Fortuitously, the cost of a new cover fell close to value of the certificate.

An hour ago the UPS guy dropped a box off on the front steps. I went out into the garage to put in on the Miata. It doesn’t fit. Our old one fit awkwardly around the mirrors, but it still covered everything as it should. From 2001 to 2005 the seat on the Miata had taller built-in headrests. They are so much taller than the ones in earlier year cars that they earned the nickname “surfboards.” The OEM tonneau covers required you to slide the seats forward and then push the seatback back so that it didn’t stick up past the level of the doors.

I thought maybe that is what I needed to do here. Well, with seats laid back it sort of fits and covers all the right areas, but you have to stretch the elastic that goes down the doors to hook on the frame rails so tight that I can’t imagine them lasting more than a month of use.

I came back inside and went to the Moss Motors web site to see if the description said anything about not fitting 2001 to 2005 cars. It did not. There was a link to something called instructions, so I clicked on it. It says that those door straps attach to the weld seam at the bottom of the car like we are doing with our current car, but the photo shows it attached to the bottom of the door itself. I went back to the car and tried hooking it that way, didn’t work. It might, but you would have to open the door first.

The current, worn out cover goes on the same general way as this one, 4 elastic hooks and 3 velcro straps, but with the addition of moving both seats, then opening & closing both doors, it becomes too much of a hassle. Might as well cycle the top. This cover is going to be returned.

Six Foot Tall

My height was listed as 5′-11″ on my very first driver’s license when I was sixteen. 6-00 is what it reads now on my current South Carolina driver’s license. I grew an inch in Navy boot camp and this height is what has been listed on every subsequent driver’s license, in whatever form required by any of the several states I’ve lived in since. In the intervening *cough* *cough* years I’m thinking that if measured it stocking feet today, I’d be back at the five foot eleven inch mark. In shoes though, still six foot even.

Back in May 2011 we bought a metal awning to park the Purple Whale under. The bottom edge of the powder coated mild steel side edge is 6′ 3″ from the surface of the driveway which allows for me to walk right under it. Normally. Sometimes I forget, like I did the day before yesterday, and step on the 3″ square tubing that serves as its base.

This caused me to bop the very tippy-top of my slightly pointed head. Fortunately I was wearing a hat so that instead of scraping off a dime sized layer of skin, I only ended up with a 1/4 inch long cut. Still it’s a head wound, so stopping the slight bit of bleeding took a while and a band aid.

In the past four years this happened with some regularity and you would think that I would avoid doing this and you’re right. I remember to step over the base or duck slightly when stepping on it for about two months, just about the time the previous wound heals.

A Day Early

And 4 days late.

The offset O2 sensor wrench from Harbor Freight came in the mail today. If I follow along with the USPS tracking page this tool left Los Angeles, CA and passed through Lake Havasu City, AZ, Vaughn, NM, Clarksville, AR, Graysville, AL and Atlanta, GA before arriving in Aiken, SC some 2,400 miles later. When I looked at the return address label on the padded envelope it arrived in it said; Harbor Freight, 224 Harbor Freight Rd, Dillon, SC 29536. Did it actually come from California in 7 days or did a Postal Service employee walk it the 160 miles from Dillon to my house in the same time frame?

I’m not sure just what I’m going to do with it right now. Do I mail it back to return it? Do I make a trip to Augusta to return it? Do I eat it and keep it as a backup in case the one I bought from Advanced Auto breaks when I’m trying to replace the front sensor when it inevitably fails in 6 months? Maybe I’ll give it away as a door prize at this Saturday’s MMC breakfast.

Thanks For Nothing

We got a letter in the mail a couple of weeks ago to let us know that there was another 2 week free trial of XM Satellite Radio coming up. Cool, I thought, that would give us something different to listen to in the Purple Whale on the weekend trip to Florida. The Friday before Labor Day on the way to work I punched the button marked XM and turned it to my favorite (and really only) station, #31 – The Coffee House, and got a few seconds of song, a few seconds of static, song, static, song. I punched the AUX button to go back to the USB drive.

In the past we have had issues with reception around home because of the copious tree cover, so I figured we’d try it again once we started the trip and got out into the farm land near Barnwell. Well, it wasn’t any better out there, so I went back to the recorded stream of Radio Paradise. I tried it one more time along flatland I-95 and this time it never even locked on the station, the display just showed “LOADING” for a a minute. Then I just gave up on it.

I don’t know where the problem was, my end or theirs, but where ever it was, getting 14 days of one channel of satellite radio was not reward enough to call anyone.

Et tu Georgia

On the way back from Florida we stopped in Statesboro, Georgia for lunch. We ended up at an Olive Garden (where everyone is family.) While I waited on the whole settling of the check thing, I suggested Donna go across the parking lot to Cracker Barrel to get some more of the candy sticks we keep in the car for road trips. She had a Gift Card for there with $5 left on it and because that isn’t enough for a meal it would buy an awful lot of candy sticks.

I finished up and walked over there to see how she was doing. Donna was just walking over to the checkout with a nice sized plastic bag full of the sticks. There was just one cashier open and about 5 people ahead of her in line, so I said I’ll go wait outside instead of clogging the counter area more.

She had spent quite a bit of time going through the jars full of the 4 or 5 flavors we like, getting the sticks that weren’t already broken into pieces inside the wrappers. So what do you the cashier who waited on her did? She took the bag and turned it upside down from a foot above the counter and dumped the sticks out to count them. Donna just looked at her incredulously, thinking to herself, “Idiot, after I spent the time to get unbroken ones…”

The sticks sell for 15¢ a piece and the sign also says that if you buy 8 you get that amount for a dollar. Donna did the math and picked out 40 of them. The cashier counted out forty and multiplied that by fifteen cents, so the total came to $6 and change because of tax. Donna had the $5 gift card and I’d given her a buck to cover any tax, so she was short the total. Rather than try to explain the quantity discount thing, wait around for her to have the sale voided and then re-rung up, she told the cashier forget it and walked out.

Six Weeks Old

I’ve said it here before and I’ll say it again, if Donna’s sister didn’t live in Florida we wouldn’t come here. I would be willing to admit that that attitude does play a role in our dislike of visiting the state. We have visited many beautiful spots and enjoyed the state, but we have seen pretty much all of that we want to. Here is a little scenario from yesterday morning’s drive down that illustrates why we would rather avoid the the state.

We stopped for gas at the usual kind of exit off I-95 (see previous post) and while I was topping the tank Donna went inside to get a hot chocolate and a People magazine to read while it was my turn to drive. She came back out with the magazine, but no drink. The place had a nice machine for various kinds of hot chocolate, but all that came out into the cup was a stream of light tan, to mostly clear in color, steaming water. She showed it to the person behind the counter and told him that she wasn’t paying for that and someone should fix that machine. She did get her People magazine.

She came out of the store while I was still pumping gas. I wanted to wash the dead bugs off the windshield too, but had to wait to do it after filling the tank because I had to stand there and hold the handle to keep the gas flowing, the auto shutoff lever was busted. With still a while to go before we would be ready to roll, I suggested that she go next door to McDonalds and get the hot chocolate as they have that McCafe thing that serves all those starbucks-like drinks and would have what it.

Just as I was finishing cleaning the window, up walked Donna without a hot chocolate. When she had got to the counter and the associate asked what she wanted, she told him and he was dumbfounded. He turned to another personn behind the counter, “Do we make Hot Chocolate?” She looked back at him like he was speaking French. Donna decided that even if they could find someone back there who knew that they did in fact have hot chocolate on the menu, the chances of anyone actually knowing how to make it were pretty slim, so turned around and left.

With us both in the car, the tank topped and the windshield transparent, I started to drive out of the gas station lot for the 1/2 mile, 10 minute trip back to I-95. It was then she noticed the date on her new People magazine, July 14, 2014, or about 6 weeks ago!

46,000 Floridians Waiting At A Light

The Purple Whale clicked past the 46,000 mile mark just before we got off I-95 to head into Palm City, Florida. This is about the fourth trip down to visit Donna’s sister in as many months and we are starting to get the hang of it. It is still a long dang trip, but each successive time it seems to get easier.

The part that we still despise is the side trip off the Interstate to get gas, snacks, a meal or a rest room break. Invariably there is a traffic signal at the end of the off-ramp with a No Turn On Red sign in which we have to wait 2 or 3 minutes to turn in our favor. Then we race 100 yards or so to be stopped at another light with the same or longer wait for the cross traffic left turns, the cross traffic straight across traffic, then we wait for our left turners before we can finally proceed. Sometimes we even have to wait through yet another light a 1/4 mile further down the road before we reach where we want to be. Then we repeat the process all over again to get back to the Interstate.

I think this adds at least 20 extra minutes on top of whatever time it takes to complete what we got off the highway for…