Green Ball

(No, this topic is NOT anatomical in nature.)

This morning, when I left my apartment building en route to work, I happened to notice a large green ball lying on the morning grass. I think the stores tend to call this type a "playball". Kids generally use this type of ball to play dodgeball or kickball with. Anyway (speaking of which), I was suddenly overcome with the urge to give this ball the biggest kick I could muster up. But... I was running late for work... the grass was covered in dew, which would've gotten my feet soaking wet... I didn't want some mother bitching at me for kicking her kid's ball (then WHY wasn't it put away, lady? Leave it in a common area, it becomes everyone's to use, right?)... and ten more reasons why I shouldn't.

So I didn't.

But now... looking back... well, let's just say that the next time, I will kick the HELL out of that green ball.

Jim McKee, Rock Star... NOT!

About that "life-changing event"... it didn't work out like I hoped it would. So now, I can talk about it.

I auditioned to be lead singer in a rock band last night, a classic rock band that plays bars and private parties in the Metro Detroit area. How did I get to that point? A couple of weeks ago, on a complete whim, I put an ad on Craigslist, stating that I was a vocalist with NO experience, seeking a position in a cover band. A few days later, I got a response from a guy in this band, and he said they might be looking for a new lead singer.

So, last night I went to his house, to meet with him (just him, not the rest of the band). He had all the band equipment set up in his basement. We talked for a few minutes, then got to the music. Most of the ideas for songs to do, I got from the band's play list.

Beatles - "Michelle"
Beatles - "Here, There and Everywhere"
Rolling Stones - "Jumping Jack Flash"
Three Dog Night - "Easy To Be Hard"
Guess Who - "No Sugar Tonight"
Buckinghams - "Kind Of A Drag"
John Mellencamp - "Authority Song"
Del Shannon - "Runaway"
Van Morrison - "Moondance"

I thought I did pretty good, considering I had no clue what songs we'd be doing ahead of time. Perhaps I didn't have my complete "A" game on, due to being nervous as hell. But I'm proud of how well I did.

When it was all over, he said he was looking for someone who had a better knowledge of harmonies (I readily admit that I am a rank amateur when it comes to stuff like that). To his credit, he was really nice about it, almost apologetic. I can see his point, they are an established band with paying gigs. He also pointed me towards another group whose ad he'd seen on Craigslist, who are just forming their group, and he thought I might be a better fit for them. I may call them, not quite sure right now. Or then again, I may not.

Am I bummed out? Yeah, a little. But it was fun, and it was exciting, and I am glad and thankful that I got the chance to give it a try. As the saying goes, you miss 100% of the shots you don't take.

And I learned something about myself. When it comes to rock & roll bands... I'm a pretty damn good karaoke singer.

Goodbye, Summer (Oh, and By the Way, You Sucked)

As of 12:03 am this past Saturday, the summer of 2006 is history. And as summers go, this one sucked eggs. Big-time.

It started out with a lot of promise. The weather was nice. I was going to swim as much as I could. My son had finally graduated from high school. Not only that, he also had his own, fully-functional vehicle, so I was no longer tasked with being Dad's Limousine Service.

Ah, but that warm, fuzzy feeling was not to last. The first major hit was my car, only two years old (albeit with 80,000 miles on it), and the timing chain broke. In so doing, it caused major collateral damage to the engine, to the tune of $1,750.00. This was in the first week of July, and I just paid it off last week.

The second thing was that I fell in love. Should be a good thing, right? Well, it was... for about four weeks, until she suddenly, for no apparent reason, kicked my ass to the curb.

So, I, for one, am glad to see the Summer of '06 bite the dust. It was a lousy summer, and I've never been so glad to see the arrival of Fall (or Autumn, for the poetic among you). Speaking of which, why do we have two names for Fall? We don't have two names for any other season. Did "Fall" come about because someone couldn't spell "Autumn"? How about alternate names for the other seasons, such as "Cold", "Wet", and "Hot"?

There's an old joke that says: What are the two seasons in Michigan? Winter and road construction.

Ahhhhh... I can hardly wait for the leaves to get crunchy.

Tiger Fever

It hasn't happened in nineteen years. But it WILL happen this year.

The last time it happened was 1987. Ronald Reagan was president. The price of gas was about $1.04 a gallon. Prozac was a new drug in the United States. On a personal note, my son was six months old.

That was the last time that baseball's Detroit Tigers were in the playoffs. They'll end that drought next month. Whether they win the American League's Central Division, or whether they get in via a wild-card spot, yesterday's 11-4 victory over the Kansas City Royals guaranteed them an appearance in the playoffs.

Detroit has waited a long time for quality baseball to return to the Motor City. It's been more than ten years since the Tigers had a winnning record. And let us not forget, it was only three years ago that the team nearly set a major league record for most losses in a season.

So, what changed this year? A number of things, and they all contributed to the fine season the Tigers have had. Pitching, to begin with, starting with the signing of veteran free-agent Kenny Rogers (not the singer) and the re-acquisition of reliever Todd Jones. Banner years from Tiger stalwarts Nate Robertson and Jeremy Bonderman didn't hurt, either. And who could have conceived that rookie pitchers Justin Verlander and Joel Zamaya would have such an impact on the team?

Ivan "Pudge" Rodriguez (not so pudgy these days) lost the snottiness that had dragged the team down so badly last year, and instead, displayed the leadership that he'd been known for in his Florida Marlin days. But the biggest single difference has to be the manager, Jim Leyland. He came along with a no-nonsense attitude and tons of big-league management experience (including a World Series ring), unlike the Tigers' previous skipper, Alan Trammell. He assembled a first-rate coaching staff, and they showed the players what they needed to do to win. And win they did, holding the best record in baseball for the majority of the season.

Who knows how far the Tigers will go in the playoffs? Can they go all the way? It's hard to say, but if they do, Detroit will wind up hosting the Super Bowl and the World Series in the same year. Has any other city ever done that?

Counting the Tigers, four Detroit sports teams have made the playoffs this year. One even won a championship (the Detroit Shock). It's a good year to be a Detroit sports fan.

(Shhhh, let's not talk about the Lions.)

Fix Me Up?

Remember back in the day, when you had a friend who was single, and you fixed them up with someone you knew who would be "just PERFECT" for him or her? Whatever happened to that notion, anyway? Have we eliminated it in favor of personal dating web sites? (If so, THAT'S a turn for the worse.)

I really HATE to bring this up, because it almost seems whiny, but I have not had much luck with the dating sites. Apparently, there are fat dudes aplenty on personal dating sites. Who knew?

I have several female friends (mostly married or otherwise taken) who tell me what a great guy I am, etc. But when it comes to the dating sites, either women contact me who I am not attracted to, or the ones who I contact, respond with "I'm sorry, but we're not a good fit." Now, when I've carefully chosen similar interests, similar background, and so on, so that we would be a good fit, what she's really saying is "I'm sorry, but you're a hideous troll, so much so that if you were the last man on Earth, I'd be crossing over to the All-Girl Team". Thank God for canned responses, huh?

Am I too picky? I don't think so. Let's review my criteria:
1. Age -- 33 to 49. I don't think that's unreasonable. Women under 33 would probably not be on the same maturity level. Those over 49 generally look a lot older than me. I am a fairly young-looking, young-feeling, cool-as-hell 46-year-old. I do not want to be with someone who looks like Grandma Moses, sorry. I have seen a couple of women who were 50 or 51 who still looked really good, so nothing's impossible, I suppose.
2. Non-smoker. Sorry, it's just gross to me. Would I date an exceptional woman who was a smoker? Possibly; I tend to go with the saying, "Never say never". But I would say that, generally speaking, smokers are not in my target demographic.
3. Full-figured. Yes, I like plus-size gals. Big deal. I always have, and I'm not ashamed of it in the least. Do a Google search on "Les Toil" (he's an artist). The women he draws are, in my opinion, my idea of perfection (although, as previously noted, I also think Jennifer Garner is the cat's meow... of course, she's no Wynonna Judd...).
4. Good looking. I can hear people groaning and screaming, saying "Looks aren't everything!" That's true, they're not. However, I'm a decent-looking guy; I think it's very reasonable to want to find a good-looking woman. If things work out, I'll be spending a lot of time looking at this woman. And hey, I'm a sucker for a pretty face. (I've always liked that line whenever I've seen it in movies.)

There are lots of other things I look for, such as having similar tastes in movies and music, having a good sense of humor, enjoying being in or near the water, being honest, affectionate, faithful, and so on. No need to bore you with the details, unless you want to be bored... in which case, feel free to e-mail me. (jimmckee.blog AT gmail DOT com)

I haven't brought up distance yet. I think I could probably go up to about a five-hour drive from me. That covers quite a bit of territory, just about anywhere between Detroit and the following cities: Chicago, Cincinnati, Indianapolis, and Pittsburgh, as well as the southern half of Michigan's Lower Peninsula. Of course, the closer to Metro Detroit, the better.

Another sticking point tends to be height. (Not with ME... with women, I mean.) Personally, I would have no problem dating women taller than me. Generally, though, women won't date men who are shorter than they are (which, to me, is a silly requirement, but who am I to say, right?).

So, anyway, if you know a single gal who you think might be a good match for me, feel free to refer her to this web site. Who knows, maybe we can bring back that tradition of fixing up our friends (well, at least the ones who need fixing).

Me and Christopher Walken

Some readers asked for more information on my recent reference to my having been in a play with Christopher Walken. So, without further ado, let us harken back to the year 1978, in the sleepy little town of Ann Arbor, Michigan...

The hero of our story is a fresh-faced, still-wet-behind-the-ears greenhorn by the name of Jim McKee. Jim is a brand-spanking-new freshman at the University of Michigan. He's got this big idea that he's going to get a liberal arts degree, majoring in theatre, and then...? Who knows?

(OK, it was cute for a minute, but I can't keep writing about myself in the third person. I can read it when others do it, no problem. But for me...)

Anyway, through the Drama Department, it was announced that, as part of the Guest Artist Series, the University would be putting on a production of William Shakespeare's Richard II. The "Guest Artist" function was to be fulfilled by Christopher Walken. Even in 1978, he was getting to be known, having just appeared in the Woody Allen film, Annie Hall. The rest of the roles in the play would be performed by students and faculty. Walken would be playing the role of Henry Bolingbroke (one of the major parts in the play).

Christopher Walken was probably just as you'd imagine him to be: friendly, somewhat quiet, down-to-earth, but very intense when it comes to the craft of acting. Even back then, when he was not quite a household name, he was every bit the consummate professional. He didn't put on airs or act like a big shot, even though we all knew he was a professional actor, and we were just students and teachers. I had actually seen Annie Hall; Walken played Annie's crazed brother (going strictly from memory here, so if I goofed that up, I'll have to blame it on Part-Timer's Disease).

My part in the play was a bit less than glorious. I can't remember my character's exact name, but it was something very much like: Spear Carrier #2. I had only two lines in the play, which I'm sure set the theatrical world on fire like no other. Also, it was the first and last time in my life that I ever wore leotards (for which I am very thankful, o Lord). But, you know, the sacrifices one makes for one's art, and all that bull.

Our play was performed the first week of December. During that same week, a movie that Christopher Walken had made was in early release in New York City, so that it would be out in time for Academy Award nominations. The film was called The Deer Hunter. A couple of months later, as I was watching the Academy Awards program, Walken won the Oscar for Best Supporting Actor for his role in The Deer Hunter.

So, that's the whole story. How many people do you know who can say they drank a beer with an Oscar-award winning actor? (Even if you do know someone else, don't burst my bubble, OK?)

Anonymous

In reference to "Anonymous", who recently left a comment basically saying "Get a life" (with apologies to William Shatner)...

First of all, my Sitemeter tells me that this person is posting from Royal Oak, Michigan, or somewhere in that vicinity (in other words, a local person, and probably someone who knows me personally). Second, judging from the tone and sentence structure, I think I know who she is. Yes, I said "she". No need to name names... she's probably already having a "holy shit" moment, based solely on this paragraph.

Finally, I am looking into something that, if it comes about, will be a HUGE change in my life. I don't want to say more than that right now, because I don't want to jinx it. I could use everyone's good vibes. If it happens, I will make sure and explain in detail. If it doesn't, I will still give as much of the details as I feel comfortable with. Let's just say I would be "getting a life"... and then some.

Arrrgghh, Matey!

Shiver me timbers! Today is September 19th. You know what that means, right? Come now, answer up, or I'll make shark bait of ye yet.

Time's up, ye bloody landlubber! It's International Talk Like A Pirate Day.

What does that mean? Nothing's required, don't worry. It just means that, if you care to, you can throw an "Arrrgghh" into your regular conversation every now and then. If you want more info, check out the official web site here. Savvy?

Also, if you like, you can cock your leg at a funny angle like they do on those Captain Morgan commercials. You know, the ones where they talk about having "a litttle bit of the Captain in you".

Speaking of which, shouldn't those commercials be warning us about adult content?

Reptile Dysfunction

More proof that you
can't trust anything
you hear on the radio
when you first wake
up in the morning.

I've Got A Secret

Eight of them, actually. It's a meme, and I was tagged by Paperback Writer, so here goes...

(NOTE: To those who know me well, most of these probably aren't very secret.)

1. I have NEVER owned real estate of any kind. EVER. (Hoping to change that next year.)

2. I write song lyrics. Mind you, very few of them ever get finished (I am so lazy when it comes to that). I also come up with melodies, but because I don't know how to read or write music, I sing them into a tape recorder. And yes, it sounds awful. But, it provides a permanent record for the melodies, so that I don't forget them.

3. I have never had a "real" credit card. I had a collaterized credit card once (where you deposit a few hundred bucks in a bank account, and they give you a card with a credit limit of that same few hundred bucks). These days, I am happy with my debit card (for the most part).

4. I didn't get my first kiss until I was eighteen.

5. I have sat on a pyramid in Egypt.

6. I was in a play with Christopher Walken.

7. I am an insulin-dependent diabetic.

8. I normally go for full-figured women (such as Wynonna Judd), but for about five years now, I have had a mad crush on Jennifer Garner. Damn you, Ben Affleck!

The only person I'll tag this time around is Bambi... maybe she can take a break from practicing the guitar... ouch, damn callouses!

The Curfew-Mobile Is No More

Regular readers may recall my description of the current car I'm driving, a 1987 Honda Accord. At that time, I stated that the car had a messed-up headlight. That would probably classify as an understatement. In reality, it was actually MISSING a headlight. The headlight was in the trunk. It still worked -- I knew this because I had plugged it in and checked it. The only problem is that the accident it was in before I bought it had mangled the headlight bracket to the point where the headlight could NOT be attached. So, I've been driving with one headlight since the beginning of August. Such a condition made it imperative that I make it home before dark, thus earning the car the nickname "The Curfew-Mobile".

Cut to this past Sunday afternoon. I went to my dad's house, seeking his assistance in laying the curfew to rest, once and for all. My dad is retired now, and spends his days doing this or that home improvement project. So, to begin with, he needed to take a look at the good headlight, for comparison. As the '87 Accord is the kind of vehicle that has the flip-up headlights, he had to remove the outer housing from the good one. Now, with anyone else, that may have driven me into a panic. But my dad is THE MAN when it comes to cars or anything else mechanical, so "in Dad, I trust".

Read more...

Once he saw how a good headlight bracket is supposed to look, he set about straightening the afore-mentioned mangled one. As I have said for years, my dad has every tool known to mankind, and some that aren't. In this case, that worked out to my benefit. Using a variety of tools, he got the bracket straightened out enough so that the headlight could be attached. After that, he rigged up some wiring to hold the headlight in place (as the damaged side would not have the housing to hold it steady). He used the coolest tool to twist and tighten the wire. It looked somewhat like a pair of wire cutters, but it had a piece in the center that I didn't understand, and a knob at the end of that piece. Anyway, with this tool, he got hold of both ends of the wire, then grabbed that knob and pulled... and as he pulled, the tool automatically twisted the wire! That was the coolest thing I'd seen in a long time. Later, my dad (normally a relatively humble guy) said, "Forget McKee, call me MacGuyver!" I couldn't agree more.

(And lest you think I had my dad do this work for nothing, I did some stuff on his computer, including figuring out a problem he was having with his Internet service. I also installed the Firefox browser on his computer, and set him up with Google as his home page. He really liked Firefox and Google, so those were major brownie points for me!)

So there you have it. I am no longer bound by curfew. The bad news is, my car no longer has a nickname. The good news is, I can stay out even after the street lights come on.

Wanna play?

That Day In September

It was a bright and pleasant Tuesday morning, unremarkable at the outset, virtually indistinguishable from so many other pleasant, yet not quite noteworthy Tuesday mornings in so many other Septembers. At least, that's how it began. But that sameness, that sense of normalcy, was not to last long. By day's end, every American knew that it was a day unlike any other, and that we would never be quite the same again.

For seventeen minutes, we believed that a tragic accident had occurred. An airliner filled with passengers had collided with one of the World Trade Center towers. After all, we were certainly no stranger to airline crashes prior to that day. So, that's the way we processed that initial crash, based upon our common frame of reference. Nothing else came to mind, because we had never been exposed to any other possible reason for such a horrific event.

Read more...

At 9:03 am, the rose-colored glasses were ripped from our collective face, thrown to the ground, and smashed into bits. That's when a second airliner crashed into another of the World Trade Center towers. At that point, it was quite obvious that neither this nor the earlier crash was accidental, but rather, a concerted attack on the United States of America. One more airliner attack would occur, on the Pentagon in Washington, DC. A fourth attack, which was planned to hit the White House, was thwarted in a brave rebellion by the passengers of United Airlines Flight 93, which sadly brought an end to all of their lives in a field in Pennsylvania. In total, 2,996 people died in those attacks. Not just Americans, either. Citizens of many nations, people from all races, all religions, all ethnicities, all walks of life, with one things in common: None of them deserved to die. They were all just innocent men and women, minding their own business.

I was listening to the radio on the way to work that morning, when I heard the news of the first crash. When I got to work, I ran up to the lunchroom, where there is a television. I don't believe I saw the second crash, but most likely, I saw a replay of that footage a few minutes later. I remember getting a sinking feeling in my stomach. There was no way this was a coincidence.

I remember being frightened that day. I remember feeling an overwhelming sadness. I remember the rage welling up in my heart, remember wanting to find the son of a bitch who was responsible and kill him in a slow and painful way. (And I still do.)

Mouths hanging open in shock and disbelief were the norm that morning as more and more of my co-workers crowded into the lunchroom. And when the towers collapsed, we couldn't quite believe it -- and yet, there was no way we could NOT believe it, we'd seen the footage, plain as day. We were so shaken that no meaningful work was going to be accomplished that day, so were all dismissed around 1 pm. On my thirty-minute drive home, I was overcome with a thought: I was going to go home, grab some clothes, and drive to New York City to help with the rescue and recovery effort. I mean, it was only 600 miles, and it was a way to do something, rather than just simmer in my angry helplessness. Luckily though, I thought better of it. Being out of shape, I'd probably be more of a liability than a help, which in turn would take help away from those who needed it most.

I also remember stopping to get gas on the way home, not because of the act of getting gas itself, but for how every customer at the gas station treated each other. It was like we were all friends in some small town. Why was that? After seeing thousands of Americans die on television, I think we all realized how important we are to each other, even if we are strangers. Perhaps, we also realized that life can be short, and you never know when your number's up, so cherish the people you encounter in your life.

What has changed since then? I still work for the same company, still sit at the same desk. However, some things have changed. I got divorced. My son graduated high school and became an adult (legally, anyway). My dog died and I got a cat. I moved from a house to an apartment. I got a new car. I got my bachelor's degree. I went to law school for about five minutes. And yet, as life has eventually gotten back to some semblance of normalcy -- I still feel that there's something missing. Something that we held in our hearts once again, if only just for a moment... five years ago... on that day in September.

ME ME ME MEME

The following MEME was tagged unto me by my hot blog friend Bambi, who got it from Nikki, who got it from... OK, I don't know who Nikki got it from. My bad.

And Bambi darling, sorry if a couple of my answers are the same or similar to yours... great minds think alike!

Things I would like to do before I die
1. Be a singer in a band.
2. Get some of my songs recorded by a famous singer or group.
3. Run for Governor.
4. Travel to Ireland, Scotland and Australia.
5. Give some stranger a new car like Elvis used to do.

Things I CAN NOT do
1. Turn my back on someone who needs my help.
2. Carry a grudge (y'know, life's just WAY too short to lug around that kind of negativity).
3. Whistle loudly (like people do in movies when they're hailing a cab).
4. Tolerate traffic jams. I would go 20 miles out of my way to avoid sitting in traffic.
5. A somersault. (Well, if I want to avoid traction, that is.)

Things I CAN do
1. Program a computer (hey, a bachelor's degree, many thousands of tuition dollars, and eight years' experience have to mean SOMETHING).
2. Cook just about any breakfast food.
3. Impressions (including Kermit the Frog, Bullwinkle, and Bill Clinton).
4. Play guitar (though not very well).
5. Give a decent massage (not a professional, just a pretty good amateur).

Things that attracted me to my wife [Not currently married, so we'll say NEXT wife, if and when I find her]
1. Nice hair. Used to be "long hair", but I have softened that stance over the years. Still, she must take good care of her hair.
2. Great sense of humor. I like to laugh, and make other people laugh, too.
3. Affection. I am a very loving, affectionate person, and I seek that in a mate as well.
4. Nice, honest smile.
5. Someone who seeks ways to accomplish something, as opposed to reasons not to.
[Now see, I was a gentleman and didn't say "nice rack".]

Things I say most often
1. That's interesting.
2. You gotta be kidding me!
3. Groovy, baby (in my best Austin Powers voice).
4. Oh freaking well.
5. Jello (instead of "hello").

Books I love to read
1. Catch-22
2. Firestarter
3. The Dead Zone
4. The Stand
5. just about anything else by Stephen King

Movies I love
1. The Matrix
2. The Wizard of Oz
3. It's A Wonderful Life
4. The Ten Commandments
5. Animal House
6. Caddy Shack
7. Jaws
8. Forrest Gump
9. Grosse Pointe Blank
10. Die Hard

I hereby tag Jami and Samantha... unless they're too busy, in which case, I'll let them off the hook.

So I Flirted With The BK Girl

Last Friday, I made a pit stop at Burger King to pick up breakfast before hopping onto the freeway for the long and arduous commute to work. I was in an unusually good mood for some reason -- maybe because it was Friday, who knows.

The girl working the drive-thru was a worker I'd seen there before, and she always seemed like she gave me a warmer and more personal smile and greeting than your typical fast-food employee. So, when I pulled up this particular day and she said "Good morning"... on a whim, mind you... I replied, "I don't really like the food here, I just come to see you."

Read more...

Now, I know what you're thinking: that it was just a ploy to get cheesy tots. But no, they don't sell those any more, remember? (sniff)

A couple of things you need to know about me: I am TERRIBLE at perceiving when a woman is flirting with me. Also, I am not much of a flirt at all myself, especially if I don't plan to follow through on it. And in this case, I don't; the girl can't be more than 25 (and might even be less than that), way too young for me. But you know what? After I said that, she got the BIGGEST smile on her face.

So, to sum it all up, I was in a good mood, and then I put someone else in a good mood. Well, whaddaya know -- you really CAN have it your way.

Crikey!

I just read this on Yahoo News:

Stingray kills 'Crocodile Hunter' Steve Irwin

Steve Irwin, the hugely popular Australian television personality and conservationist known as the "Crocodile Hunter," was killed Monday by a stingray while filming off the Great Barrier Reef. He was 44.

Irwin was at Batt Reef, off the remote coast of northeastern Queensland state, shooting a segment for a series called "Ocean's Deadliest" when he swam too close to one of the animals, which have a poisonous barb on their tails, his friend and colleague John Stainton said.

"He came on top of the stingray and the stingray's barb went up and into his chest and put a hole into his heart," said Stainton, who was on board Irwin's boat at the time.

Read more...

To be honest, I was never a huge fan of Steve Irwin. But I have to give him his props: He was entertaining, and he was smart in his field. I know for sure that he got many children interested in wildlife. Yes, I remember that he caught a lot of flak for having his infant son in his arms while in very close proximity to a crocodile a couple of years ago. That was legitimate criticism, to be sure. But that doesn't take away from the all the good that he did.

In my opinion, one of the biggest tragedies in Irwin's death is that he didn't get taken out by a croc. Don't get me wrong, I would not have wished death on him at all. But I still remember the movie "Jaws", where Quint, the great shark hunter, dies when he gets eaten by a shark (and repeatedly stabbing the shark with a huge knife in his last moment). I just think it would have been poetic irony if the great crocodile hunter would've went out the same way.

Crikey!

Hooptie-Doo!

Some readers may recall the tale of my automotive woes from back in July. My car, a 2004 Chevy Aveo, is still in the repair shop, as I make payments to them. Hopefully, my car will come home sometime this month. (sniff)

For the last month, I have been driving a 1987 Honda Accord, which I bought from my boss' brother-in-law for $300. It had been in an accident before I bought it, which is why the price was so low. That accident had messed up one of the headlights, and also caused the hood to not latch properly. The person I bought it from had a bungee cord which he gave me to tie the hood down. Good plan in theory, right? Well, about three miles from home, the cord snapped, and the hood flew up (not a pleasant experience at 50 mph). So now the car looks like it's in a lot worse shape than it actually is, as that little event left the hood all mangled up. The red tie-down ratchet strap I use to secure the hood really completes the picture (the car is charcoal gray).

Read more...

When I bought the car, I was told that it would soon need either a fuel filter, a fuel pump, or both. So, I've been driving it for about a month now, and it occasionally stalls out, probably because of one of the afore-mentioned fuel-type parts. I understand this, and I accept it (hey, whaddaya want for 300 bones?). The other day, I was out driving, the traffic light changed from red to green, and when I gave it a little gas, the car stalled out. This was a fairly busy road, but I put my hazard lights on while I continued my attempt to start the car. That should've been the end of the story, right? Nope! Some skinhead ass-wipe behind me lays all kind of rubber on the road (to the point where it smelled NASTY), and while driving by, yells "Get a Chevy!" (Ummmmm... I guess fuel filters and fuel pumps never go bad on Chevy's?)

Now, having lived most of my life in the Detroit area, I am far from one to knock American cars. Several friends and family members have worked for the car makers. But I do have a few bones to pick with Mr. Skinhead. First of all, Honda has been making cars in the United States for many years. I don't know if my particular car was made in the US, but that's really beside the point. Second, my so-called American car (my Chevy Aveo) was made in South Korea by Daewoo Motors. And finally, I've owned a lot of different cars, American, German, and Japanese; the best car I've ever owned, by far, was a Honda Civic wagon. I drove the living crap out of that car, and it just kept on going. (If you want to see the car I'm referring to, go rent the movie "Dave", starring Kevin Kline. His accountant friend, played by Charles Grodin, drives the EXACT same car, even down to the color. Good movie, by the way... Sigourney Weaver looked SCRUMPTIOUS! But, I digress...)

Anyway, I do have a message for Mr. Skinhead. Aryan Nations called... they said please come home to the cult compound, all is forgiven.