Made Redundant, Obsolete, and Not Needed

Car lots and balloons seem to go together. Can’t have a big sale without balloons.

During my time in the business, I was the balloon master. From filling to properly attaching them to vehicles, I had a plan for every step. Nobody could organize the effort better. Nobody could do it faster (as long as we made Cliff stay inside).

Now someone has come along and wiped out my specialty. Not that I want back in the car business, but, in the back of my mind, I took comfort in knowing I had one stellar skill. Alas, all gone now!

http://www.balloonbobber.com/ 

Damn progress!

One day I was handed a “heat” telephone call. Some female Subaru driving resident of the Peoples Republic of Boulder who was irate because she had seen the crew letting the balloons go at the end of the day. My response, “We don’t waste them. We gather a bunch and tie them to a prairie dog,” didn’t sooth her. Oh, well. She probably wasn’t a prospect for a Powerstroke anyway.

What Are They Thinking?

When you deal with almost any level of government today, do you experience this?

http://video.google.com/videoplay?docid=1299237781504204785

Shortly after the Murrah Building was bombed, and for several years after, I noticed a distinct improvement in the demeanor and service of government workers at all levels of government. Maybe they realized the person standing in front of them was not a hapless supplicant for their office’s service. This has faded. Most from the Oklahoma City Bombing era have retired.

We have a whole new level of arrogance in this country. Snooty “intellectuals”. Patronizing university professors. The Obama Administration. The Bush administration. Tom “The Hammer” DeLay. Raul Emmanuel; the list goes on. Disrespect towards people who have different opinions; who don’t gratefully assume their “proper” roles.  Do these people think they can’t bleed; can’t be hurt? That they don’t have spouses, children, parents, etc. that aren’t, and cannot be, protected round the clock. The time is coming when they will learn they are wrong, I fear.

It is not as if the warnings aren’t there. Some clear posting on that theme and potential consequences can be found at SipseyStreetIrregulars among others

http://www.google.com/search?sourceid=ie7&q=sipseystreetirregulars&rls=com.microsoft:en-us:IE-Address&ie=UTF-8&oe=UTF-8&rlz=1I7ADRA_en

and on many blog sites (left, right, middle).

The Oklahoma bombing was allegedly  organized and pulled off by a small cadre. Oswald supposedly operated alone. One disgruntled individual with a willing shooter paralyzed a whole metropolitan area.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Beltway_sniper_attacks

Say 1/100th of 1% of the licensed hunters in this country started target shooting on upscale golf courses early on Saturday mornings? Or say, gondolas on ski lifts? Might suck out a lot of the joy in being rich and powerful, don’t you think? Sort of like British Gentry in Ireland for a few hundred years magnified a hundred fold.

I am NOT advocating any of this. I won’t help anyone who is. Should I ever hear of anything like this, I will be talking to my trusted LEO relatives (and not the Fan Belt Inspectors).

Now we have this Holmes freak. Lone wolf? Too soon to tell. Another speculative viewpoint?

http://personalliberty.com/2012/07/26/conspiracy-theories-arent-always-false-just-unpopular/?eiid=

This Presidential Election may well be the trigger. Romney wins, the Left goes berserk. Remember the Weather Underground? Obama wins, gets even more radical, and the Right goes to war.

Big difference today? Information and communications. Whole new “force multiplier”.

Maybe all these “smart” spin doctor people trying to mold the public mind should go back and study the law of unintended consequences.

http://www.econlib.org/library/Enc/UnintendedConsequences.html

It is likely I'm "preaching to the choir" and those reading my blog are already well on their way to being prepared.

Fools, and Damn Fools

My former employer of many years was a professional bull rider from the time he was in high school. Had a college rodeo scholarship. Wives, ex wives, several children, and multiple businesses interfered so he had gaps in his pursuit. He wasn’t championship level. In baseball terms he was Triple A.
We recently encountered him as a spectator at a bull riding event and remarked on how fit he looked. The remarks pleased him and he told us of his plan to get back into riding bulls.

At his first comeback event, he cracked two ribs. Undeterred, he rode in an event Friday.

This is the result.

This might slow him down. However, back in the day, with his right arm and shoulder in a cast, he drove a stick shift Subaru from Albuquerque to Mesquite, TX to make the next event.

My sister’s companion still wants to ride at 50+. When I first met him, my response was anyone crazy enough to keep riding bulls was probably crazy enough to date my sister.

These bull riders just don’t quit. I admit to being a well seasoned fool. I deny being a damn fool. Wonder how I keep ending up around them?

On a different topic, this picture was taken in my town today.

Scared Witless II

A repost since this wouldn't come up as a comment of Juvats post on Old AF Sarge's blog. http://oldafsarge.blogspot.com/2015/09/airport-festivities.html

In view of the Aurora, CO tragedy, something light; a flying story from the past.

‘Hey, you have a Commercial ticket?” “Want to make fifty bucks?” asked the man. I replied “Yes” to both questions. He said, “I need a copilot for one trip.”

Dumbfounded, I stared at the man walking towards me from a PB4Y slurry bomber on the ramp at the Jefferson, CO airport, circa 1968.

I’d ferried over a C-150 to have an annual inspection and, while waiting for my ride, wandered over to the US Forest Service’s  slurry station to ogle the aircraft on the ramp.

That was my one and only encounter with the late “Red” Avery from Greybull, WY, one of the early slurry bomber operators. He was there fighting a fire on Mt. Evans.

“Don’t have a multi rating”, I told him. “You don’t need one to be a copilot”, he replied. “Look, the flight engineers does everything. You just need to sit there but I need a copilot to be legal. My copilot had to leave.”

A chance to ride in a WWII bomber, and get paid? Hell, yeah.

So the start up, taxi, takeoff, and climb out toward Mt. Evans was thrilling. Then, at the fire, he put the nose down at a much steeper angle than I thought possible. Into the smoke. Looked like we were going to crash into the fire. He dropped the slurry and we ballooned upward.

Smoke, noise, g forces; too bad you can’t make a carnival ride that will duplicate the experience.

I’ve been in thunderstorms and mountain waves but have never been in turbulence like we encountered. Scared me witless. I was still shaking when we landed.

“Want to stick around”?,  he asked me as he was writing out a check. “Sir”, I said, “I don’t have enough hair on my ass to every do that again.” He just laughed and thanked me for helping him out.

As Dirty Harry said, “A man should know his limitations”.

When you see the aircraft on the ramp, the size of the thing impresses. Once you are in the cockpit, it is small and cramped. You start thinking about the crews that spent hour after hour there and you gain a new respect for what they accomplished.

As I remember, the controls felt fairly light during the brief period I had them while straight and level.  Other than my sister, I’ve shared this story with very few people. Not my most shining hour, so to speak.

Clean Air

Thanks to rain and the valiant efforts of our firefighters, we can again enjoy our great Western Vistas.

Diesel Madness = Siberian Car Sales

Yet another car lot story.

Dzevat was a very successful Siberian fisherman. DON’T call him a Russian! He owned, or was the captain of, a 525’ fish processing vessel. The details were somewhat murky and he didn’t want to discuss it. What he did have was fistfuls of US green money. His interest was any small diesel powered truck or car and larger European sedans. He had wandered into our lot and we developed a business relationship. Big man! Not often do I deal with men much larger than myself.

These diesel powered vehicles were more common in the Pacific Northwest than elsewhere. A  weekly ad in the statewide shopper (pre internet days) offering quick cash, if the price was right, allowed me to buy three or four a month to put in storage.

Two to three times a year, Dzevat would put into port in Puget Sound. He would buy one top of the line SUV, usually an Isuzu Trooper, and all the used diesels. Tough bargainer on the new vehicle but not on the used. If he knew I paid an average of $300 per and sold to him at an average of $1,200 per, he might have bargained harder. What the hell was I going to do with them if he didn’t buy?

The local shagger company would deliver them pier side and his crew would crane load them on the deck. Off they would sail to Vladivostok.

One day I got a call from him, who knows where he was calling from, telling me he was out of the car business. Nice of him to call as I had only bought two used diesels. One was a Peugeot that was featured in a previous blog.

One wonders how many of those old diesels are still operating In Siberia?

We never discussed politics, USSR - USA relations, or did any socializing. I wondered at the time if he got caught up in some political situation in Siberia. I never learned more but appreciated the opportunity to expand my horizons (and make a buck).

Commercial fishermen (and women). The only group I know that are more bat shit crazy than car salesmen.

Sorry for the jumble. Blogger and I don't get along. My bad, hate to read instructions.

OK, I'll play.



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