Internet Dependent

I’m not a very patient man. (Not a big revelation there). I get frustrated when things do not work like they are supposed to. So, you can imagine the irritation and annoyance I’ve been experiencing for the past week and a half due to my Internet having issues.

As many Americans, I have come to depend on the Internet. I pay my bills on the Internet, advertise and sell books on the Internet, get my news, weather, and entertainment on the Internet. In fact, I live on the Internet. When it is down it negatively impacts my life in a BIG way. For instance, last week, when I posted my blog, it should have been a very simple matter. It normally takes about fifteen minutes to get the post online. But last Sunday night I spent three hours on it.

So, during the past week I have been busy, trying to isolate the problem. Every time I think I have it figured out, and think my Internet will now work, it goes out again. So far, it’s been a colossal debacle. I’ve now concluded I must have a weak router, so, against my usual nature, tomorrow I will call my service provider.

Not looking forward to that at all. By the time I get someone on the line who actually speaks English, jump through all the hoops of identifying myself, describe to them the problem, and then tell them what I have tried—only to have them suggest the very things I’ve already eliminated—I figure my day will be half over. And did I mention I’m not very patient?

But I am determined. Which is why you are reading this. Not sure how long I will have spent on it because when I finally get it posted, I’m NOT going back to edit it! I just don’t have the patience for that! ~

Bruce A. Borders is the author of more than a dozen books, including: Inside Room 913, Over My Dead Body, The Journey, Miscarriage Of Justice, and The Wynn Garrett Series. Available in ebook and paperback on iTunes, Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, and Smashwords.  Amazon Profile - http://www.amazon.com/Bruce-A.-Borders/e/B006SOLWQS. Bruce A. Borders is a proud member of Rave Reviews Book Club.

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Thanksgiving, 1985

Thanksgiving. A time of family, food, and fun—as I recently heard it defined. Yes, I have another Thanksgiving tale.

The year was 1985. I had just moved to Wisconsin in anticipation of getting married. My wife, who wasn’t my wife yet, and her family traveled to spend the holiday in another town. I had to work so I stayed behind to keep the house warm for the cat and dog.

Now before anyone starts feeling sorry for me, I wasn’t alone. For Thanksgiving Day, I was invited to some friends’ house. We had a good southern meal—odd for being in Wisconsin, I know, but these people were from the south—and afterward, we spent the day playing games. I stayed until well after dark and then returned to my future in-laws’ house.

Meanwhile, it had been snowing—all day. It was still snowing when I left for work the next morning—and when I returned. And, it continued snowing well into Saturday. By this time, the long driveway was pretty snowed in. I’d been driving my father-in-law’s four-wheel drive pickup and hadn’t bothered to think about removing any of the piles of white stuff. And neither had I thought to shovel. Probably should have started that the first day, instead of playing games all day long!

Waking up Saturday, I suddenly remembered my wife’s family would be returning that afternoon and they had taken a car, a car that I knew would have difficulty getting into and up the snow filled driveway.

So, I thought I’d help out. I went to the shed and started up the John Deere with a snowplow already attached. I figured the job would only take a few minutes. Well, as anyone who has been around me knows, that Mr. Murphy guy and me have a lot in common—if anything can go wrong, it will. I’d made only one pass down the driveway, when the John Deere stopped. Just stopped. I tried for several hours to get it running but apparently, I wasn’t much of a mechanic.

Looking at the driveway, I knew it would still be hard to get a car through it. The one pass I’d made hadn’t really helped much at all. So, I jumped into the pickup and drove back and forth until I had the snow packed down enough. Then I started working on shoveling the three days’ worth of snow from around the walkway and the house. By that time, I knew I definitely had waited too long to shovel. It was late afternoon when my wife and her family drove in and I still hadn’t finished.

My father-in-law, being a far better mechanic than I, seemed unconcerned with the stalled John Deere. As I recall, he had the tractor running in about two minutes. Then, while he cleaned up the driveway a little, I continued working on the shoveling.

I did apologize for breaking his tractor. He said not to worry about it, that any time a breakdown didn’t cost any money, it was good. Well, that’s true, except it had cost some money—I think I used close to a full tank of gas driving the pickup back and forth! But, as I recently learned, Thanksgiving is, among other things, a time of fun. And I certainly did have fun!

Happy Thanksgiving! ~

Bruce A. Borders is the author of more than a dozen books, including: Inside Room 913, Over My Dead Body, The Journey, Miscarriage Of Justice, and The Wynn Garrett Series. Available in ebook and paperback on iTunes, Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, and Smashwords.  Amazon Profile - http://www.amazon.com/Bruce-A.-Borders/e/B006SOLWQS. Bruce A. Borders is a proud member of Rave Reviews Book Club.

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In The Shop

I wish I could decide when a vehicle will break down. I know, everyone wishes that!

It wasn’t that many weeks ago that I wrote about changing the alternator on my wife’s car. You’d think I’d get a longer reprieve than that but, sadly, no. Last weekend, I had a battery light come on, on my pickup. Not a big deal, I checked the battery and it was old and slightly bulged, so I bought a new one. It took only a few minutes to put in. But, the light did not go off.

So, before spending money on an alternator—again—I drove down to the auto parts store to have the system checked. They hooked it up and after a few seconds told me everything was working as it should. Apparently, my truck was just confused.

Getting the clean bill of health for the pickup, I took off for work. It’s about an hour’s drive to work and I’d made it about halfway when I discovered the system was definitely NOT working. By the time I made it to my job, I didn’t even have enough power to roll up my window.

Lucky for me, the route I drive in my semi takes me right through the town where I live. So, my wife met me at K-Mart, took me to the auto parts store to purchase an alternator, and then home to get some tools. I finished my run and at four in the morning was psyching myself up for another vehicle repair, which I hate, and this time the weather was not nearly so cooperative as when I did my wife’s vehicle. The temperature was 29 degrees with a slight wind blowing. And, I would be working in a gravel parking lot.

But...

The mechanic at my job, who doesn’t allow anyone in his shop (even the other mechanics do a lot of repairs outside so the shop doesn’t get messed up), and who never lets anyone use any of his tools (probably for good reason) offered, yes, offered, to let me pull into the well-lit, nice warm building with a clean concrete floor. Then, he pointed out the brand new floor jack and said I could be the first to use it. He set up a work light and told me if I needed any of his tools to help myself!

As the morning guys arrived, a few of them seemed quite shocked that I was working on my own pickup inside the forbidden shop! They also thought I had taken it upon myself to use the shop and were worried that I was going to get caught. The mechanic had other things to do so he was not there the whole time but he did show up now and then throughout the three hours it took—and helped. Another shock.

Now, here’s the neat part. I have never worked on a vehicle in a shop in my life! Sure, I’ve worked inside my garage, when I had one, but a shop is a far different experience. Tools, the right tools, power tools, were at my disposal, and the smooth concrete floor made dropped nuts and bolts so much easier to find. The lighted climate-controlled setting was a lot more comfortable than working outside. All in all, working in a shop made the job seem like not so much of a chore. In fact, it was almost fun. Wait! That might be pushing it a little. It was still three hours of work—after I’d driven eleven hours in a semi. Really though, it wasn’t that bad. Aside from the two hundred dollars spent on the alternator, this was the best break down I’ve ever had.

That’s why I’ve decided from now on when I break down, I’m going to do it at my job! Yeah, right. If only it was that simple! ~

Bruce A. Borders is the author of more than a dozen books, including: Inside Room 913, Over My Dead Body, The Journey, Miscarriage Of Justice, and The Wynn Garrett Series. Available in ebook and paperback on iTunes, Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, and Smashwords.  Amazon Profile - http://www.amazon.com/Bruce-A.-Borders/e/B006SOLWQS. Bruce A. Borders is a proud member of Rave Reviews Book Club.

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Ready, Or Not

So, I think I’ve mowed the lawn for the last time this season. Turned off the sprinklers, blew all the lines out, and covered the barbecue grill. I’m ready for winter. At least it would appear that way.

In reality, I’m NEVER ready for winter. As any longtime reader of this blog knows, I prefer summer. In fact, I’d like to do away with winter completely. For some reason, that has never happened. I realize I could move to Arizona and escape winter—most of the time anyway. But something tells me if I were to relocate, the first winter, the state would have its biggest snowfall in history with record low temperatures.

A couple of weeks ago, I was discussing my dislike of winter with someone who couldn’t understand what I could have against it. Only three things really; the cold, the snow—or ice, and the short days. Summer, on the other hand, has none of those!

I was told it was unrealistic to expect warm sunshine all of the time—that things would die. Like my grass, they said.

Obviously, this person has not lived in this area too long. I asked and found the guy had moved here only a few weeks before so I guess I can cut him a little slack. Still, it should have been fairly evident from all the brown hillsides that the grass does die here—every summer. Unless... Unless it is watered. I pointed this out and was met with a look of disbelief. Then, I was told taking care of an irrigation system just seemed like a lot of work.

Which is how I remembered that I needed to winterize my sprinklers! It is November already! Gotta make sure they don’t freeze up and bust. I need them for my grass next summer—or sooner, if by some miracle we get to skip winter this year! ~

Bruce A. Borders is the author of more than a dozen books, including: Inside Room 913, Over My Dead Body, The Journey, Miscarriage Of Justice, and The Wynn Garrett Series. Available in ebook and paperback on iTunes, Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, and Smashwords.  Amazon Profile - http://www.amazon.com/Bruce-A.-Borders/e/B006SOLWQS. Bruce A. Borders is a proud member of Rave Reviews Book Club.

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That's Crazy

Back when I first started driving a truck and had a little difficulty backing into tight areas, I had the “pleasure” of being sent to a downtown Chicago business where the only truck access was through the alley. A very narrow alley. About halfway down was the dock I was supposed to back into. A recessed dock with concrete walls on both sides. The walls started as just small curbs but the further down the dock recessed, the higher the walls became. They were eight and a half feet apart—the exact width of my trailer—but due to all of the trucks that had scraped them over the years, in effect, the space was a little wider. There actually were several such docks, in Chicago and other mid-west cities, but this particular one has a story.

These days, I would love the challenge—backing off of a narrow alley into such a small opening, making sure to position the trailer precisely between the walls, turning it right when it needed to turn, and keeping it straight all the way to the dock—that would be fun. Back then, not so much.

The guy on the dock, who told me where to back in, said not to worry if it took me a while, because they were going to lunch. So, I had an hour—to do the impossible. Or what seemed impossible at the time.

I waited until everyone left to move the truck. I certainly didn’t need an audience! Once I was alone, I began. Doing a set up, I started backing, angling the trailer toward the opening. Then, when it didn’t work, I repeated the process a few times. Every time, I had to stop. I didn’t want to add any fresh scrapes to the walls—or my trailer.

I was glad no one was watching my many failed attempts. Except there was someone watching. And old man who hadn’t left for lunch. He sat there on a bucket, munching on a sandwich—and watching me. I hadn’t noticed him until he got up and, still chewing his sandwich, slowly walked over.

He nodded to me and climbed up on the step of the truck. “Want some advice?”

I said I could use some and he told me, “Just run over the curb. Makes the dock a lot wider at the start and gives you more room to turn the trailer. Then, all you have to do is back up. If you can back straight, you’ll have it made.”

Seemed reasonable, and I knew instantly he was right. I could drop the trailer wheels off the curb where it was eight or nine inches high and easily give myself an extra ten feet. I took his advice and in only a minute or so, I was backed in. The old man waited until I set the brakes and then satisfied I had made it walked off down the alley.

When the loading crew came back from lunch, the dock guy asked if I had any trouble. “No,” I said. One of your workers helped me.”

“One of my workers?”

I nodded and described the guy and what he had told me. “I figured he must have been a truck driver once.”

The guy on the dock laughed. “Charlie? No. He doesn’t even drive. Doesn’t do much of anything. He’s just a crazy man who wanders around down here. I wouldn’t take advice from him about anything.”

Well, that was comforting! A little disconcerting, actually. I wasn’t sure who was crazy, the old man or me for listening to him. But the thing is, his advice worked. Pretty well too. However, I think you can see why after that I was a little more motivated to learn to back up on my own. ~

Bruce A. Borders is the author of more than a dozen books, including: Inside Room 913, Over My Dead Body, The Journey, Miscarriage Of Justice, and The Wynn Garrett Series. Available in ebook and paperback on iTunes, Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, and Smashwords.  Amazon Profile - http://www.amazon.com/Bruce-A.-Borders/e/B006SOLWQS. Bruce A. Borders is a proud member of Rave Reviews Book Club.

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