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The Wanderer
- Thread starter SuperBuickGuy
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SuperBuickGuy
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- Woodinville, WA
Now the dash is in for real
a bit of grinding work but I had to glue again so no skim coat
aforementioned fix
the antenna for the ham portion of the radio
I figure I'll have about 10k in it total plus labor, of course....
a bit of grinding work but I had to glue again so no skim coat
aforementioned fix
the antenna for the ham portion of the radio
I figure I'll have about 10k in it total plus labor, of course....
SuperBuickGuy
Well-Known Member
- Messages
- 3,403
- Location
- Woodinville, WA
THE WANDERERS #12
SMOKEY AND THE BANDITS - PART III
By Rick Sieman
When we last left Carl and Emma, they were spending some time with Officer LaRue Honker in Log Jam, Georgia. You see, Officer Honker shot a hole in Carl's engine by mistake, thinking he was aiming a radar gun. While Honker's brother-in-law was fixing Carl's motor, Carl was assisting the peace officer in ticket writing, and having a good time at it.
A string of 4-x4- crooks had been operating locally, foiling the best efforts of the Log Jam Police Department. Carl and Larue were busy making plans to apprehend the 4x4 thieves.
***
We join them at the kitchen table at Officer Honker's house.
"More okra and possum jowels, Carl?" asked Velveeta, Officer LaRue's wife.
Carl subdued a small burp. "Gosh, no thanks, Velveeta. I'm packed to the snouts. But I could use just another taste of that good old home brew."
Velveeta picked up the mason jar in front of Carl and moments later returned it full. She smiled. "LaRue, Emma and I are going to go in the living room and watch WWF wrestling. There's a big tag-team match on tonight, with Greg "The Hammer Valentine and The Honky Tonk Man, taking on George "The Animal" Steel and Jimmy "Superfly" Snuka. We'll leave you two boys alone here in the kitchen so's you can figure out how to trap those crooks. There's some pecan cookies next to the fridge if either of you get hun*gry."
LaRue took a deep sip from his mason jar and his eyes widened a bit. "Carl, we got to figure out some way to nab these guys. I think that tryin' to chase 'em down is a lost cause. All's we got is my Land Cruiser and that just ain't fast enough. "
"LaRue, when will your brother-in-law have my Suburban done?"
"Two days. Mebbe three at the outside. Whyzat?"
Carl took another deep pull on the mason jar. "Well, why don't we just chase em down with The Whale? It's got plenty of beans and great suspension."
LaRue emptied his mason jar and refilled it, "Nope. That'd be way too dangerous. We might hit one of those New York lawyers while we chase em down and get sued to death. We gotta think of some other way."
Carl emptied his jar and refilled it, then took a long sip. "Well, howsa 'bout we leave the keys in The Whale and let them steal it?"
LaRue slurped the mason jar a good three inches lower. "What good zat gonna do? Then you're out a perfectly good truck."
Carl sucked down about half of his jar and shuddered. "What if I'm in it?"
LaRue took another deep slug. "Then they'll steal you, too. That'd be grand theft auto and grand theft of a retired Navy Chief Petty Officer. Pretty serious stuff. Probably a federal violation. FBI might want in on the deal."
Carl drained his jar and refilled it again. "We don't need the FBI. I'll hide in the boat on the roof and when they steal The Whale, I'll nab 'em. You can wire me for sound and I'll keep you posted. This way we can follow 'em to their hideout. Whaddaya think?"
LaRue emptied his jar. "I think I'll have another drink. It stimulates the thinking process."
Carl weaved a bit from side to side. "Yes, but we better have some of those cookies. You should never drink on an empty sto*mach."
"Good idea! But first let's refill these mason jars. Cookies can make a man damned thirsty!"
An hour later, Emma and Velveeta shut down the TV and walked into the kitchen, to be greeted by the sight of two rather large grown men snoring, faces flat on the kitchen table, with cookie crumbs dribbling out of their mouths. It took a good half-hour to drag them both into bed.
***
Two days later, both Carl and LaRue were still recovering from a Class AA hangover as they wandered into the crusty old Sinclair station run by Honker's brother-in-law. "Carl, this here's Fred*dy. we call him Frogman, Froggy for short."
Carl shook hands with the tall, lanky, freckled, red-haired mechanic. "Well, Froggy. How's she goin'?"
Froggy carved some grease out from under a fingernail with a large straight slot screwdriver. "She's done, Carl. And if I have to say so myself, she's better'n when she came in here. I found a coupla valves that were burnt on the edges, and you was pumpin' some oil on number three and number eight cylinders. I put a good seasoned block in and set up the tolerances jist like I would for a stock car that was gonna run at Arlington.
"Take 'er for a spin and don't worry about breakin' 'er in. I run it on the dyno over at Hank's Speed Shop for a good three hours."
Fifteen minutes later, Carl pulled back into the service bay, with a big grin on his face. "Shoot, Froggy, I smoked the tires off the line like a pimply-faced kid in a little deuce coupe. You are a certified genius."
"Yes, I know."
***
LaRue and Carl huddled together in a booth at the Frosty-Freeze stand and made their plans. " Okey-dokey, Carl. Here's the deal. We leave The Whale parked in front of Shorty's Bar and Grill and Bar."
"Why is it called bar and grill and bar, instead of just bar and grill?"
"Boy, are you northerners dumb. It's got two bars in it. Any*ways, back to business. You hide out in that big boat on the roof and I'll make sure the keys are on the dash and the driver's side window is down. Now we know that at least seven of the 4x4s have been stolen from this spot, and always on a Saturday afternoon. I figure we're about due for another hit."
Carl clambered up into the boat and settled back with a copy of Field and Stream. Just about the time he was halfway through the article on how to get lunker trout on macaroni and cheese balls, he heard the familiar sound of the door on The Whale slamming shut. A moment later, the macho growl of the 454 rumbled into life. Then, with a squeal from the rear tires, The Whale pulled away from the curb and the chase was on!
Carl pulled out the small walkie-talkie. "Ten-four, over and out, roger-wilco, code seven, do you copy me, Smokey Bear?"
"Jeez, Carl, will you knock off the radio jive talk and just listen up. I'm about a half-mile behind you in my Land Cruiser. I'm gonna fall back 'til I'm out of sight. After that, I'm gonna hafta rely on you for radio directions. You let me know about turns and all that stuff. This is Smokey, out!"
"This here's Carl, in!"
***
About an hour later, The Whale creaked to a halt and Carl peeked from underneath the lower lip of the boat cover. He was in a clearing with a small cabin and dozens of trucks with camou*flaged, tarps were all over the place. Perhaps a half-dozen rough-looking men lounged around the makeshift hideaway.
Carl got on the radio and whispered, "Uh, Smokey, this here's The Whale. I'm in a hollow with a cabin and a whole bunch of what appears to be stolen 4x4s. What are you gonna do? There's too many of 'em for one man."
"Just leave it to me. Over."
"Under," said Carl.
Ten long minutes later, Carl heard and a loud voice boom, "Don't anyone move! Y'all are surrounded by the Georgia National Guard. This is General Jones speaking. We will not shoot unless anyone makes a move, but if you even hint about doing anything funny, my men are under orders to open fire with bazookas, ma*chine-guns and hand grenades. We have poison gas if you want to play it rough, and we also have killer attack dogs with us who haven't eaten for three days."
The men all got big eyes and looked toward their leader for advice. He simply put his hands up in the air.
LaRue's voice rang out again. "Now, I want the smallest man there to pick up a 2X4 and hit the tallest man on the head with it real smart-like. If he doesn't drop, we'll put a bullet or two right in the middle of your shorts."
A moment later, there was a dull thunking sound, followed by a groan.
"Now, the next tallest man gets the same treatment, or I turn the dogs loose!"
There was another whacking sound and a body hit the dirt. In a few minutes, only one person was left standing: a short man with a 2x4 in his hands and very wide eyes.
The voice rang out again. "Now then, you there with the 2x4. Hit yourself on the head with it!"
There was a dull thunk.
"Do it again. This time with some spirit, or I light off the flame-throwers and then send in the dogs for a barbecue of the leftovers!"
This time there was an even louder thunk, followed by a groan and the unmistakable sound of a body falling to the ground.
Carl stumbled out from underneath the boat and surveyed the scene around him. All of the men were on the ground, out cold. Officer LaRue Honker emerged from the bushes, with an ear-to-ear grin.
Carl shook his hand. "LaRue, I am impressed! How did you ever come up with that slick idea of getting them to knock each other out?"
"Had to. Left my gun back at the gas station by mistake."
"You mean ... "
"Right. We coulda been screwed, blued and tatooed."
***
Two days later, Carl and Emma bid a tearful farewell to LaRue and Velveeta. "Where y'all headed to now good buddy?" asked LaRue.
"South, old friend. To Miami. We could use some peace and quiet and, as I recall, Miami is a slow, kicked-back town with a lotta old, retired people."
***
Miami? Slow? Whoa, folks, what are Carl and Emma headed for?
SMOKEY AND THE BANDITS - PART III
By Rick Sieman
When we last left Carl and Emma, they were spending some time with Officer LaRue Honker in Log Jam, Georgia. You see, Officer Honker shot a hole in Carl's engine by mistake, thinking he was aiming a radar gun. While Honker's brother-in-law was fixing Carl's motor, Carl was assisting the peace officer in ticket writing, and having a good time at it.
A string of 4-x4- crooks had been operating locally, foiling the best efforts of the Log Jam Police Department. Carl and Larue were busy making plans to apprehend the 4x4 thieves.
***
We join them at the kitchen table at Officer Honker's house.
"More okra and possum jowels, Carl?" asked Velveeta, Officer LaRue's wife.
Carl subdued a small burp. "Gosh, no thanks, Velveeta. I'm packed to the snouts. But I could use just another taste of that good old home brew."
Velveeta picked up the mason jar in front of Carl and moments later returned it full. She smiled. "LaRue, Emma and I are going to go in the living room and watch WWF wrestling. There's a big tag-team match on tonight, with Greg "The Hammer Valentine and The Honky Tonk Man, taking on George "The Animal" Steel and Jimmy "Superfly" Snuka. We'll leave you two boys alone here in the kitchen so's you can figure out how to trap those crooks. There's some pecan cookies next to the fridge if either of you get hun*gry."
LaRue took a deep sip from his mason jar and his eyes widened a bit. "Carl, we got to figure out some way to nab these guys. I think that tryin' to chase 'em down is a lost cause. All's we got is my Land Cruiser and that just ain't fast enough. "
"LaRue, when will your brother-in-law have my Suburban done?"
"Two days. Mebbe three at the outside. Whyzat?"
Carl took another deep pull on the mason jar. "Well, why don't we just chase em down with The Whale? It's got plenty of beans and great suspension."
LaRue emptied his mason jar and refilled it, "Nope. That'd be way too dangerous. We might hit one of those New York lawyers while we chase em down and get sued to death. We gotta think of some other way."
Carl emptied his jar and refilled it, then took a long sip. "Well, howsa 'bout we leave the keys in The Whale and let them steal it?"
LaRue slurped the mason jar a good three inches lower. "What good zat gonna do? Then you're out a perfectly good truck."
Carl sucked down about half of his jar and shuddered. "What if I'm in it?"
LaRue took another deep slug. "Then they'll steal you, too. That'd be grand theft auto and grand theft of a retired Navy Chief Petty Officer. Pretty serious stuff. Probably a federal violation. FBI might want in on the deal."
Carl drained his jar and refilled it again. "We don't need the FBI. I'll hide in the boat on the roof and when they steal The Whale, I'll nab 'em. You can wire me for sound and I'll keep you posted. This way we can follow 'em to their hideout. Whaddaya think?"
LaRue emptied his jar. "I think I'll have another drink. It stimulates the thinking process."
Carl weaved a bit from side to side. "Yes, but we better have some of those cookies. You should never drink on an empty sto*mach."
"Good idea! But first let's refill these mason jars. Cookies can make a man damned thirsty!"
An hour later, Emma and Velveeta shut down the TV and walked into the kitchen, to be greeted by the sight of two rather large grown men snoring, faces flat on the kitchen table, with cookie crumbs dribbling out of their mouths. It took a good half-hour to drag them both into bed.
***
Two days later, both Carl and LaRue were still recovering from a Class AA hangover as they wandered into the crusty old Sinclair station run by Honker's brother-in-law. "Carl, this here's Fred*dy. we call him Frogman, Froggy for short."
Carl shook hands with the tall, lanky, freckled, red-haired mechanic. "Well, Froggy. How's she goin'?"
Froggy carved some grease out from under a fingernail with a large straight slot screwdriver. "She's done, Carl. And if I have to say so myself, she's better'n when she came in here. I found a coupla valves that were burnt on the edges, and you was pumpin' some oil on number three and number eight cylinders. I put a good seasoned block in and set up the tolerances jist like I would for a stock car that was gonna run at Arlington.
"Take 'er for a spin and don't worry about breakin' 'er in. I run it on the dyno over at Hank's Speed Shop for a good three hours."
Fifteen minutes later, Carl pulled back into the service bay, with a big grin on his face. "Shoot, Froggy, I smoked the tires off the line like a pimply-faced kid in a little deuce coupe. You are a certified genius."
"Yes, I know."
***
LaRue and Carl huddled together in a booth at the Frosty-Freeze stand and made their plans. " Okey-dokey, Carl. Here's the deal. We leave The Whale parked in front of Shorty's Bar and Grill and Bar."
"Why is it called bar and grill and bar, instead of just bar and grill?"
"Boy, are you northerners dumb. It's got two bars in it. Any*ways, back to business. You hide out in that big boat on the roof and I'll make sure the keys are on the dash and the driver's side window is down. Now we know that at least seven of the 4x4s have been stolen from this spot, and always on a Saturday afternoon. I figure we're about due for another hit."
Carl clambered up into the boat and settled back with a copy of Field and Stream. Just about the time he was halfway through the article on how to get lunker trout on macaroni and cheese balls, he heard the familiar sound of the door on The Whale slamming shut. A moment later, the macho growl of the 454 rumbled into life. Then, with a squeal from the rear tires, The Whale pulled away from the curb and the chase was on!
Carl pulled out the small walkie-talkie. "Ten-four, over and out, roger-wilco, code seven, do you copy me, Smokey Bear?"
"Jeez, Carl, will you knock off the radio jive talk and just listen up. I'm about a half-mile behind you in my Land Cruiser. I'm gonna fall back 'til I'm out of sight. After that, I'm gonna hafta rely on you for radio directions. You let me know about turns and all that stuff. This is Smokey, out!"
"This here's Carl, in!"
***
About an hour later, The Whale creaked to a halt and Carl peeked from underneath the lower lip of the boat cover. He was in a clearing with a small cabin and dozens of trucks with camou*flaged, tarps were all over the place. Perhaps a half-dozen rough-looking men lounged around the makeshift hideaway.
Carl got on the radio and whispered, "Uh, Smokey, this here's The Whale. I'm in a hollow with a cabin and a whole bunch of what appears to be stolen 4x4s. What are you gonna do? There's too many of 'em for one man."
"Just leave it to me. Over."
"Under," said Carl.
Ten long minutes later, Carl heard and a loud voice boom, "Don't anyone move! Y'all are surrounded by the Georgia National Guard. This is General Jones speaking. We will not shoot unless anyone makes a move, but if you even hint about doing anything funny, my men are under orders to open fire with bazookas, ma*chine-guns and hand grenades. We have poison gas if you want to play it rough, and we also have killer attack dogs with us who haven't eaten for three days."
The men all got big eyes and looked toward their leader for advice. He simply put his hands up in the air.
LaRue's voice rang out again. "Now, I want the smallest man there to pick up a 2X4 and hit the tallest man on the head with it real smart-like. If he doesn't drop, we'll put a bullet or two right in the middle of your shorts."
A moment later, there was a dull thunking sound, followed by a groan.
"Now, the next tallest man gets the same treatment, or I turn the dogs loose!"
There was another whacking sound and a body hit the dirt. In a few minutes, only one person was left standing: a short man with a 2x4 in his hands and very wide eyes.
The voice rang out again. "Now then, you there with the 2x4. Hit yourself on the head with it!"
There was a dull thunk.
"Do it again. This time with some spirit, or I light off the flame-throwers and then send in the dogs for a barbecue of the leftovers!"
This time there was an even louder thunk, followed by a groan and the unmistakable sound of a body falling to the ground.
Carl stumbled out from underneath the boat and surveyed the scene around him. All of the men were on the ground, out cold. Officer LaRue Honker emerged from the bushes, with an ear-to-ear grin.
Carl shook his hand. "LaRue, I am impressed! How did you ever come up with that slick idea of getting them to knock each other out?"
"Had to. Left my gun back at the gas station by mistake."
"You mean ... "
"Right. We coulda been screwed, blued and tatooed."
***
Two days later, Carl and Emma bid a tearful farewell to LaRue and Velveeta. "Where y'all headed to now good buddy?" asked LaRue.
"South, old friend. To Miami. We could use some peace and quiet and, as I recall, Miami is a slow, kicked-back town with a lotta old, retired people."
***
Miami? Slow? Whoa, folks, what are Carl and Emma headed for?
SuperBuickGuy
Well-Known Member
- Messages
- 3,403
- Location
- Woodinville, WA
Finally, I can get close to finishing the carpet.
first a skim coat for the gauge pod
*commercial break*
Today's episode is brought to you by Singer Sewing machines - when you can't afford the best, buy some Chinese product with an American name, Singer, because you can't afford German or Japanese quality.
In my defense, my plan is to sew webbing for a dog crate - so a $20 sewing machine makes a lot more sense then a $1,500 sewing machine.... someday, but not today - though I'm grateful not to be sewing the webbing by hand
back to insulation.... $60 for 240 square feet, one side foil, from Home Depot
first replace the soda-encrusted issue
add a bit of extra padding to where I suspect my mastiff will sleep
starting to look just about like it did before
and the back (note the dust floating about? yeah, it is a bit itchy)
In a pinch, I could make that tank work.... but I think not, this isn't a rock-crawler so I'll build a custom tank for underneath
and on that vein, I still am not completely sure the lay out
that's all for today, thanks for watching
first a skim coat for the gauge pod
*commercial break*
Today's episode is brought to you by Singer Sewing machines - when you can't afford the best, buy some Chinese product with an American name, Singer, because you can't afford German or Japanese quality.
In my defense, my plan is to sew webbing for a dog crate - so a $20 sewing machine makes a lot more sense then a $1,500 sewing machine.... someday, but not today - though I'm grateful not to be sewing the webbing by hand
back to insulation.... $60 for 240 square feet, one side foil, from Home Depot
first replace the soda-encrusted issue
add a bit of extra padding to where I suspect my mastiff will sleep
starting to look just about like it did before
and the back (note the dust floating about? yeah, it is a bit itchy)
In a pinch, I could make that tank work.... but I think not, this isn't a rock-crawler so I'll build a custom tank for underneath
and on that vein, I still am not completely sure the lay out
that's all for today, thanks for watching
JPaul
Well-Known Member
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- 2,402
- Location
- Way up north, UT
If you're just doing straight stitches you can get an old Singer for not too much, as long as it's in working condition it'll probably keep working and you don't have to worry when sewing thicker materials, those old ones are plenty strong.
SuperBuickGuy
Well-Known Member
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- 3,403
- Location
- Woodinville, WA
I've been watching for them... what I got was the first one that was reasonably priced
I hate leaking vehicles - so I spend more then a bit of time fixing that stuff.... this was a 90% fix, I bubba fixed part of it but will fix that too when I do the manual swap
seal replacement
and the rear one (I have bad words to say about that spring... I didn't notice it and put the first seal in - the driveshaft wouldn't go in... ugh)
more parts
who would have thought you could still buy this new, from GM?
tach sensor
and glue the magnets to the balancer
and more sanding done on this.... thinking a crinkle finish will hide all sins
the sensor installed
and antennae installed
I think I've circled back to this layout.... sink and cooktop will go on the driver's side
larger battery goes here
well, there's a couple evenings work...
I hate leaking vehicles - so I spend more then a bit of time fixing that stuff.... this was a 90% fix, I bubba fixed part of it but will fix that too when I do the manual swap
seal replacement
and the rear one (I have bad words to say about that spring... I didn't notice it and put the first seal in - the driveshaft wouldn't go in... ugh)
more parts
who would have thought you could still buy this new, from GM?
tach sensor
and glue the magnets to the balancer
and more sanding done on this.... thinking a crinkle finish will hide all sins
the sensor installed
and antennae installed
I think I've circled back to this layout.... sink and cooktop will go on the driver's side
larger battery goes here
well, there's a couple evenings work...
JPaul
Well-Known Member
- Messages
- 2,402
- Location
- Way up north, UT
The lower power density of the Optima's kills me. If that's their group 31 then it's only 72 Ah, whereas Odyssey's 31 is 100 Ah, a difference of 28 Ah. Even when comparing it by weight vs Ah (the Odyssey is 18 lbs heavier), the Odyssey has better rating at 1.285 Ah/lb vs Optima @1.254 Ah/lb. Not a huge difference, but still better.
I can tell that one is one you've just got kicking around since it looks pretty used, so I get using it in this. Do you plan on replacing it with an Odyssey or similar when it's time to replace it? I know you were looking at some high power usage what with the AC and all.
I can tell that one is one you've just got kicking around since it looks pretty used, so I get using it in this. Do you plan on replacing it with an Odyssey or similar when it's time to replace it? I know you were looking at some high power usage what with the AC and all.
SuperBuickGuy
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- 3,403
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- Woodinville, WA
I'm actually going to go with a flooded-cell battery or batteries... I need to do maths and I haven't yet. Right now the likelihood is a bunch of cheap, 35 ah batteries in series.
That battery, outside of being quite dirty, is pretty new - like less then a year old.
That battery, outside of being quite dirty, is pretty new - like less then a year old.
SuperBuickGuy
Well-Known Member
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- 3,403
- Location
- Woodinville, WA
not perfect but it will most certainly work
SuperBuickGuy
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- Location
- Woodinville, WA
creating antenna connections
I do love solder-less connections (as long as there isn't any tension on the cable they work quite well)
I wonder how many hours I'll have in these when done? I should probably have my friend 3d scan them so we can 3d print them later
While Buick says this isn't a Hummer, he says it will do for now (especially if there's scary lightning and thunder out)
cannot have enough connections
I'm starting to be afraid I'll get accused of the gay spiderman wiring harness....
I do love solder-less connections (as long as there isn't any tension on the cable they work quite well)
I wonder how many hours I'll have in these when done? I should probably have my friend 3d scan them so we can 3d print them later
While Buick says this isn't a Hummer, he says it will do for now (especially if there's scary lightning and thunder out)
cannot have enough connections
I'm starting to be afraid I'll get accused of the gay spiderman wiring harness....
SuperBuickGuy
Well-Known Member
- Messages
- 3,403
- Location
- Woodinville, WA
THE WANDERERS #13
[h=1][/h]
ON THE ROAD TO MIAMI - SORT OF
By Rick Sieman
When we last left Carl and Emma, they had just spent a few fun-filled weeks with a speed trap-operating cop in Georgia, and in the process, had managed to break up a ring of 4x4 thieves. They were next headed for Florida. Specifically, Miami. We join them now as they wander (what else?) south on Interstate 75.
***
Emma looked up from her knitting and asked, "Carl, I'm curi*ous. Normally you don't take big freeways like this."
"Interstate, Emma. Interstate. There is a difference."
"What's the difference, dear?"
"Ummm, well, er, ahhh... you see, an interstate is funded by Republicans and a freeway is funded by Democrats. Yeah, that's it."
Emma beamed. "Carl, you're so smart! I never knew that. But anyways, why are we on this interstate instead of one of the backroads we take most of the time?"
"Its because I'm in a big hurry to get to Florida. You know I was in the Navy for 29 years, 11 months and 53 days, right? Well, I got some fond memories of the time I spent in Jacksonville and Sanford. I want to sort of drive by there and maybe look over the old stomping grounds. So I want you to keep an eye out for High*way 10. That'll take me right smack to the middle of Jackson*ville. "
"Dear, this map says that 10 is an interstate, not a highway. Is there some other kind of difference I still don't know about?"
"Uhh, yup. You see, a highway is not quite as wide as an interstate, and if it is, you can't hardly make out the dif*ference just by looking at it. You ever see those guys out on the roads with those binocular-looking deals on the big tripods? Well, they're out there to measure whether it's a highway or an interstate."
"Oh, Carl, I just don't know how you manage to squeeze so much knowledge into your head."
"Well, I don't let it swell my noggin woman. Anyways, enough about roads and such. See if you can get something decent on that radio."
Emma fiddled with the dials on the imposing multi-bucks radio, and eventually found a control that changed stations.
Brrrraaaap ... zzzuup ... skritttch ... went the noise from the radio as the dial was turned from right to left.
" ... So stop by the Stuckey's nearest you and enjoy our pecan pie special. Now, back to our music, featuring Wesley Dank and the Pigtown Boys playing one of the biggest bluegrass hits this year, 'Don't Leave Me for a Trucker or a Cowboy, Just Jump off a Cliff Instead'... "'
…Dial, dial, dial…
" ... and we can expect a 90-percent chance of rain today across the southeastern seaboard, with humidity in the high ..."
…Dial, dial, dial…
" ... should be a great day today, with virtually no chance of rain and a brisk breeze from the south in the coastal region, with ... "
…Dial, dial, dial…
" ... and dry, hot winds from the west should virtually guar*antee hurricane conditions if the cool air from the east hits it off the coast, so batten down the ..."
"Whoa, did you hear that, Emma? When I was in the Navy in Florida, the big seller was YooHoo Chocolate Soda. Looks like tastes have really shifted towards Coca Cola. Maybe we ought to invest a few of our retirement dollars in a Coke distributorship?"
"Oh, Carl, here's Highway 10. You have to head east here.'
"Hey, you're talkin' to a Navy man. I know the points of the compass like the back of my head. You just sit back and knit or read one of them wimmins magazines about mutant hormones, and leave the driving to old Carl."
Carl studied the maze of signs ahead, then guided the huge Suburban through the cloverleaf turns, eventually settling down to a cruising speed exactly two miles per hour over the speed limit.
Emma coughed quietly "Dear, are you sure you're going the right way?"
"Woman, just make like this is a Greyhound and leave the driving to me. I'll wake you up when the majestic Atlantic Ocean rolls into sight. Next stop, Jacksonville, home of a great Naval Air Station."
Emma crossed her arms, pouted and mumbled something under her breath. Carl drove happily on, spitting a wad of tobacco juice out of the window of The Whale every 6.2 miles or so, depositing yet another stain on the flank of the huge Suburban.
Hours later, Carl nudged Emma awake, and proclaimed, "There it
is Emma. The mighty Atlantic - the wettest and deepest of the 11
seas, and there's Jacksonville in the distance. Sorta puts a lump in my throat."
Emma snuffled. "It ought to put a real big lump, Carl. See that sign up ahead? It says 'Pensacola - 7 miles'. If that's the Atlantic Ocean l'm Jacqueline Cousteau."
"What ... wha' ... where ... How in the ..."
"Simple, dear you turned west when you should have turned east way back there, where 75 met highway 10. I tried to tell you, dear, but you wouldn't listen. Noooooo, you told me to go to sleep. Well, Mr. Navigator-Compassman, I'm going back to sleep. Wake me up when we do get to Jacksonville."
Carl swore a hearty string of Navy curses and swung The Whale around. The squeal of the tires was almost loud enough to drown out the giggling coming from the passenger's seat.
***
At Tallahassee, Carl swung south on 363, taking them close to the Gulf of Mexico. The white sand against the blue water was a thing of beauty, and they stopped for a while, found a two-track road leading to the beach, and parked The Whale there for two days.
For those two glorious days, they truly lived the good life. Carl fished in the small inlets, while Emma cooked some great meals. In the evenings, they sat in lawn chairs, running their toes through the warm white sand, sipping a cold drink or three.
To cap it off, they retired to the interior of The Whale, turned on the television, lined up the satellite dish and watched wres*tling until they dozed off.
***
After the welcome camping break, they loaded up The Whale, and drove carefully down the sugar-sand road to Highway 98, which they took east to 27. Instead of heading back to the main roads again, Carl kept to the tiny back roads and got a genuine view of the real Florida that the tourists never get to see.
They passed small lakes where cattle stood knee-deep in water, munching on tall green grass. He drove by groves of orange trees, tidy little farms, towns that appeared to be straight out of the 1950s and sections of swamp land that looked like primeval bogs. They explored some interesting dirt roads, wandered from pavement to dirt, and back again. They stopped to eat along the way in small diners, and had real, fresh, orange juice, great seafood dinners and pecan pie with near-sinful richness.
Eventually, they arrived at the outskirts of a big city. This time, the sign said Jacksonville. Carl had no trouble whatsoever finding his way to the massive Naval Air Station, and after getting a visitors' permit, was allowed to drive on the base.
He pointed out the magnificent aircraft and huge hangars to Emma, who "ooohed" and aaaahed" with genuine appreciation. Smart*ly dressed sailors walked around, looking much like starched penguins.
Emma pointed "Why are those sailors over there dressed so funny, dear?"
"Them ain't sailors, Emma. Them's jarheads."
"Jarheads!"
"Yeah, Marines. Swimming pool sailors. Their insignia is a chicken standing on a basketball with an anchor hanging from its butt. lf you can t read or write, you get to be a Marine. lf you're smart, you get to be a sailor."
"Gosh, I never knew that, dear!"
"Don't ever forget it, Emma."
After two hours, Carl had seen enough to convince him that the Navy was still functioning strongly, despite the fact that he was no longer in it.
They drove The Whale up to the gate and Carl went inside to sign out and return the visitors' pass. The Lieutenant JG behind the desk was courteous. "Well, sir. How did you like your tour?"
Carl beamed. It was the first time he'd ever been called sir by an officer
"It was great! You know, I just retired from the Navy a few years ago, and this sure brought back a lot of memories."
"Well, l'm glad you enjoyed it, sir. Where, to now? Back home?"
Carl scratched his chin. "Nope. It's off to Miami for us. l'm going to look around a little bit, relax and maybe try to work out a deal where I can distribute some Coke and turn my retire*ment money into some real bucks!"
The eyes of the young officer turned deadly cold.
"Sir, please leave this facility right now. And if I see your face again, I'll shoot you in both legs on the spot!"
Carl, stunned, took Emma's arm and escorted her out to The Whale. As they drove away, very confused and puzzled, Emma shook her head and asked, "Carl, why do you think that nice young man turned so nasty all of the sudden?"
Carl spit a wad of Red Man out of the window! "Dunno. Must be a YooHoo cola man."
***
Good Lord! What is Carl getting into? He's heading south to Miami, the drug center of the United States, and doesn't know the difference between coke and Coke. I don't know about you, but frankly, I'm concerned about what's coming up!
[h=1][/h]
ON THE ROAD TO MIAMI - SORT OF
By Rick Sieman
When we last left Carl and Emma, they had just spent a few fun-filled weeks with a speed trap-operating cop in Georgia, and in the process, had managed to break up a ring of 4x4 thieves. They were next headed for Florida. Specifically, Miami. We join them now as they wander (what else?) south on Interstate 75.
***
Emma looked up from her knitting and asked, "Carl, I'm curi*ous. Normally you don't take big freeways like this."
"Interstate, Emma. Interstate. There is a difference."
"What's the difference, dear?"
"Ummm, well, er, ahhh... you see, an interstate is funded by Republicans and a freeway is funded by Democrats. Yeah, that's it."
Emma beamed. "Carl, you're so smart! I never knew that. But anyways, why are we on this interstate instead of one of the backroads we take most of the time?"
"Its because I'm in a big hurry to get to Florida. You know I was in the Navy for 29 years, 11 months and 53 days, right? Well, I got some fond memories of the time I spent in Jacksonville and Sanford. I want to sort of drive by there and maybe look over the old stomping grounds. So I want you to keep an eye out for High*way 10. That'll take me right smack to the middle of Jackson*ville. "
"Dear, this map says that 10 is an interstate, not a highway. Is there some other kind of difference I still don't know about?"
"Uhh, yup. You see, a highway is not quite as wide as an interstate, and if it is, you can't hardly make out the dif*ference just by looking at it. You ever see those guys out on the roads with those binocular-looking deals on the big tripods? Well, they're out there to measure whether it's a highway or an interstate."
"Oh, Carl, I just don't know how you manage to squeeze so much knowledge into your head."
"Well, I don't let it swell my noggin woman. Anyways, enough about roads and such. See if you can get something decent on that radio."
Emma fiddled with the dials on the imposing multi-bucks radio, and eventually found a control that changed stations.
Brrrraaaap ... zzzuup ... skritttch ... went the noise from the radio as the dial was turned from right to left.
" ... So stop by the Stuckey's nearest you and enjoy our pecan pie special. Now, back to our music, featuring Wesley Dank and the Pigtown Boys playing one of the biggest bluegrass hits this year, 'Don't Leave Me for a Trucker or a Cowboy, Just Jump off a Cliff Instead'... "'
…Dial, dial, dial…
" ... and we can expect a 90-percent chance of rain today across the southeastern seaboard, with humidity in the high ..."
…Dial, dial, dial…
" ... should be a great day today, with virtually no chance of rain and a brisk breeze from the south in the coastal region, with ... "
…Dial, dial, dial…
" ... and dry, hot winds from the west should virtually guar*antee hurricane conditions if the cool air from the east hits it off the coast, so batten down the ..."
"Whoa, did you hear that, Emma? When I was in the Navy in Florida, the big seller was YooHoo Chocolate Soda. Looks like tastes have really shifted towards Coca Cola. Maybe we ought to invest a few of our retirement dollars in a Coke distributorship?"
"Oh, Carl, here's Highway 10. You have to head east here.'
"Hey, you're talkin' to a Navy man. I know the points of the compass like the back of my head. You just sit back and knit or read one of them wimmins magazines about mutant hormones, and leave the driving to old Carl."
Carl studied the maze of signs ahead, then guided the huge Suburban through the cloverleaf turns, eventually settling down to a cruising speed exactly two miles per hour over the speed limit.
Emma coughed quietly "Dear, are you sure you're going the right way?"
"Woman, just make like this is a Greyhound and leave the driving to me. I'll wake you up when the majestic Atlantic Ocean rolls into sight. Next stop, Jacksonville, home of a great Naval Air Station."
Emma crossed her arms, pouted and mumbled something under her breath. Carl drove happily on, spitting a wad of tobacco juice out of the window of The Whale every 6.2 miles or so, depositing yet another stain on the flank of the huge Suburban.
Hours later, Carl nudged Emma awake, and proclaimed, "There it
is Emma. The mighty Atlantic - the wettest and deepest of the 11
seas, and there's Jacksonville in the distance. Sorta puts a lump in my throat."
Emma snuffled. "It ought to put a real big lump, Carl. See that sign up ahead? It says 'Pensacola - 7 miles'. If that's the Atlantic Ocean l'm Jacqueline Cousteau."
"What ... wha' ... where ... How in the ..."
"Simple, dear you turned west when you should have turned east way back there, where 75 met highway 10. I tried to tell you, dear, but you wouldn't listen. Noooooo, you told me to go to sleep. Well, Mr. Navigator-Compassman, I'm going back to sleep. Wake me up when we do get to Jacksonville."
Carl swore a hearty string of Navy curses and swung The Whale around. The squeal of the tires was almost loud enough to drown out the giggling coming from the passenger's seat.
***
At Tallahassee, Carl swung south on 363, taking them close to the Gulf of Mexico. The white sand against the blue water was a thing of beauty, and they stopped for a while, found a two-track road leading to the beach, and parked The Whale there for two days.
For those two glorious days, they truly lived the good life. Carl fished in the small inlets, while Emma cooked some great meals. In the evenings, they sat in lawn chairs, running their toes through the warm white sand, sipping a cold drink or three.
To cap it off, they retired to the interior of The Whale, turned on the television, lined up the satellite dish and watched wres*tling until they dozed off.
***
After the welcome camping break, they loaded up The Whale, and drove carefully down the sugar-sand road to Highway 98, which they took east to 27. Instead of heading back to the main roads again, Carl kept to the tiny back roads and got a genuine view of the real Florida that the tourists never get to see.
They passed small lakes where cattle stood knee-deep in water, munching on tall green grass. He drove by groves of orange trees, tidy little farms, towns that appeared to be straight out of the 1950s and sections of swamp land that looked like primeval bogs. They explored some interesting dirt roads, wandered from pavement to dirt, and back again. They stopped to eat along the way in small diners, and had real, fresh, orange juice, great seafood dinners and pecan pie with near-sinful richness.
Eventually, they arrived at the outskirts of a big city. This time, the sign said Jacksonville. Carl had no trouble whatsoever finding his way to the massive Naval Air Station, and after getting a visitors' permit, was allowed to drive on the base.
He pointed out the magnificent aircraft and huge hangars to Emma, who "ooohed" and aaaahed" with genuine appreciation. Smart*ly dressed sailors walked around, looking much like starched penguins.
Emma pointed "Why are those sailors over there dressed so funny, dear?"
"Them ain't sailors, Emma. Them's jarheads."
"Jarheads!"
"Yeah, Marines. Swimming pool sailors. Their insignia is a chicken standing on a basketball with an anchor hanging from its butt. lf you can t read or write, you get to be a Marine. lf you're smart, you get to be a sailor."
"Gosh, I never knew that, dear!"
"Don't ever forget it, Emma."
After two hours, Carl had seen enough to convince him that the Navy was still functioning strongly, despite the fact that he was no longer in it.
They drove The Whale up to the gate and Carl went inside to sign out and return the visitors' pass. The Lieutenant JG behind the desk was courteous. "Well, sir. How did you like your tour?"
Carl beamed. It was the first time he'd ever been called sir by an officer
"It was great! You know, I just retired from the Navy a few years ago, and this sure brought back a lot of memories."
"Well, l'm glad you enjoyed it, sir. Where, to now? Back home?"
Carl scratched his chin. "Nope. It's off to Miami for us. l'm going to look around a little bit, relax and maybe try to work out a deal where I can distribute some Coke and turn my retire*ment money into some real bucks!"
The eyes of the young officer turned deadly cold.
"Sir, please leave this facility right now. And if I see your face again, I'll shoot you in both legs on the spot!"
Carl, stunned, took Emma's arm and escorted her out to The Whale. As they drove away, very confused and puzzled, Emma shook her head and asked, "Carl, why do you think that nice young man turned so nasty all of the sudden?"
Carl spit a wad of Red Man out of the window! "Dunno. Must be a YooHoo cola man."
***
Good Lord! What is Carl getting into? He's heading south to Miami, the drug center of the United States, and doesn't know the difference between coke and Coke. I don't know about you, but frankly, I'm concerned about what's coming up!
SuperBuickGuy
Well-Known Member
- Messages
- 3,403
- Location
- Woodinville, WA
I can't think of a better description of Overlanding
They passed small lakes where cattle stood knee-deep in water, munching on tall green grass. He drove by groves of orange trees, tidy little farms, towns that appeared to be straight out of the 1950s and sections of swamp land that looked like primeval bogs. They explored some interesting dirt roads, wandered from pavement to dirt, and back again. They stopped to eat along the way in small diners, and had real, fresh, orange juice, great seafood dinners and pecan pie with near-sinful richness.
and it is true - I used to sell Coke too. Increased sales 3x in my area and got all sorts of awards.
SuperBuickGuy
Well-Known Member
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- 3,403
- Location
- Woodinville, WA
Start of RV modifications
I got a lot done today, just not on the Suburban... but I did do one thing pretty important - I drove it. I hadn't taken it out since before I fixed the vacuum pump - and found today that the cruise control works too (yay). Took some dogs too, they seemed to enjoy going out too
and took the headliner out - at some point I hope to be going forward, but this is important because I need to insulate the roof, build brackets for the roof rack and do the wiring for the solar panels and the a/c that's coming soon.... ugh, I wonder how far I'll get before the rally? I still need to build a tow bar for the fj40 ....
headliner is out
tomorrow I'll weld up the holes from the old roof rack, then get onto the new rack
I got a lot done today, just not on the Suburban... but I did do one thing pretty important - I drove it. I hadn't taken it out since before I fixed the vacuum pump - and found today that the cruise control works too (yay). Took some dogs too, they seemed to enjoy going out too
and took the headliner out - at some point I hope to be going forward, but this is important because I need to insulate the roof, build brackets for the roof rack and do the wiring for the solar panels and the a/c that's coming soon.... ugh, I wonder how far I'll get before the rally? I still need to build a tow bar for the fj40 ....
headliner is out
tomorrow I'll weld up the holes from the old roof rack, then get onto the new rack
Last edited:
SuperBuickGuy
Well-Known Member
- Messages
- 3,403
- Location
- Woodinville, WA
Bought batteries yesterday - they're telecom gel batteries 125 ah - biggest benefit is they're $100/each; they're also quite popular with the solar-cabin set and they are quite heavy...
dug the water pump out of my camper (that I'm scrapping)
and rack build starts tonight
dug the water pump out of my camper (that I'm scrapping)
and rack build starts tonight
JPaul
Well-Known Member
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- 2,402
- Location
- Way up north, UT
$100 each for 125AH is pretty awesome, was that for them brand new or are they used?
SuperBuickGuy
Well-Known Member
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- 3,403
- Location
- Woodinville, WA
NOS from a cell phone company. They were never installed and the latest generation of equipment uses something different. I bought them from a battery distributor. 250ah seemed adequate 
Best of all, they're a gel-filled battery so can be installed in any position - but they are heavy, like 100# each heavy.
Basically, (I'm saying this to have my math checked) I can run the AC I'm planning for about 1 1/2 hours at full load (1500 watts) because these batteries allow to run all the way down to 5%. The solar panels should help it make nearly 2 hours in direct sun - which, usually is about all one needs. I figure to use the AC to cool the interior so that I can sleep or use it in the hottest part of the day to keep the dogs from overheating. In addition to the AC, we have a solar blanket (it looks like linen but is made up of aluminum threads) that reflects the sun. In addition, the roof will be insulated and windows will be blocked to keep direct sun off and out. I'm also painting the roof either light silver or white to further help reflect solar heating....
thoughts?
Best of all, they're a gel-filled battery so can be installed in any position - but they are heavy, like 100# each heavy.
Basically, (I'm saying this to have my math checked) I can run the AC I'm planning for about 1 1/2 hours at full load (1500 watts) because these batteries allow to run all the way down to 5%. The solar panels should help it make nearly 2 hours in direct sun - which, usually is about all one needs. I figure to use the AC to cool the interior so that I can sleep or use it in the hottest part of the day to keep the dogs from overheating. In addition to the AC, we have a solar blanket (it looks like linen but is made up of aluminum threads) that reflects the sun. In addition, the roof will be insulated and windows will be blocked to keep direct sun off and out. I'm also painting the roof either light silver or white to further help reflect solar heating....
thoughts?
Last edited:
RamRod
Well-Known Member
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- AB, Canada
That's awesome! Do they have anymore I am very interested in getting my hands on one or two at that price!!!!
Sent from my SM-G935W8 using Tapatalk
Sent from my SM-G935W8 using Tapatalk
SuperBuickGuy
Well-Known Member
- Messages
- 3,403
- Location
- Woodinville, WA
RamRod
Well-Known Member
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- AB, Canada
Thanks!
Sent from my SM-G935W8 using Tapatalk
Sent from my SM-G935W8 using Tapatalk
RamRod
Well-Known Member
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- 3,914
- Location
- AB, Canada
Not to muddy up your build thread but I called them up and grabbed two!
Thanks for the info! Those were great guys to deal with!
Sent from my SM-G935W8 using Tapatalk
Thanks for the info! Those were great guys to deal with!
Sent from my SM-G935W8 using Tapatalk
SuperBuickGuy
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- 3,403
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- Woodinville, WA
awesome, glad it worked for you too.
SuperBuickGuy
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- Woodinville, WA
hmmm... raw material - I'm weird, when I see raw material it makes me happy.
what to make?
radii It takes a special machine to take round tube and make it flat... ugh, I really need a good bender.
some trimming
and we have the start of top rails
what to make?
radii It takes a special machine to take round tube and make it flat... ugh, I really need a good bender.
some trimming
and we have the start of top rails
SuperBuickGuy
Well-Known Member
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- 3,403
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- Woodinville, WA
I'm going so green that I'm sure a polar bear has now survived to kill another penguin
and some assembly
and more
ummmm, no (tentatively)
absolutely (maybe)
decisions sealed with a tack weld
thinking most definitely probably mocked up
and some assembly
and more
ummmm, no (tentatively)
absolutely (maybe)
decisions sealed with a tack weld
thinking most definitely probably mocked up
SuperBuickGuy
Well-Known Member
- Messages
- 3,403
- Location
- Woodinville, WA
THE WANDERERS #14
TWO KINDS OF WHALES IN THE WOODS - PART II OF THE MIAMI SAGA
By Rick Sieman
When we last left Carl and Emma, they had just toured the naval base at Jacksonville, where Carl had once been stationed. Though they enjoyed touring the facility, their departure was dampened when the gate officer snarled at them. You see, Carl had heard on his radio that billions were being made selling coke in Florida, and he thought it meant "Coke." When he told the gate officer he was thinking about heading south and setting up a Coke distributorship with his Navy retirement money, the officer threatened to shoot him. Carl figured the officer was a YooHoo soda man and forgot about it. We join Carl and Emma now as they wander farther south through Florida, headed for Miami.
***
Carl drove slowly south on highway A1A, quite a few miles under the speed limit. A1A wanders along the edge of the Atlantic Ocean, providing enough truly awesome sightseeing to slow most traffic down to gawking speeds.
Carl and Emma drove around St. Augustine and noticed that most of the residents were substantially older than they were. A sign on the road indicated that Marineland was just ahead.
Emma beamed. "Oh, Carl! Look! Marineland. Let's stop!"
"Sure, honeypot. I always wanted to see Mickey Moose and Donny Duck, anyways."
Emma furled her brow. "No dear. It's Micky Mouse and Donald Duck, and they're at Disney world. That's further on down the road. Marineland has all kinds of fish and sea life on display in a giant tank."
"Hey, great! I'll get my fishin' rod and a Louisiana Red Wiggler lure, and maybe we can catch us some supper!"
Emma sighed. "Carl, these fish are for you to look at, not catch."
Carl shook his head. "Then what good is this place? If I just want to look at some fish, I could drop a half stick of dynamite in the lake and watch 'em float to the top."
***
Half an hour later, Carl and Emma were standing with noses pressed against the glass, gaping at the fantastic variety of sea life that swam around in the huge main tank.
Emma was fascinated. "Oooh, Carl. What's that pointy-nosed fish there?"
"That? That's a barracuda. A couple or three of those could make a meal outta you."
Emma pointed again. "And that one over there, with the big fin?"
"Shark, Emma. That's Jaws junior, just like in the movie."
Emma looked up at a strange shape that was floating downward.
"My oh my, what's that, dear? A poisonous jellyfish? A coral reef? A barnacle?"
"Naw, that's a hamburger wrapper some snotty-nosed kid threw in the water from the top deck. Somebody ought to push the little geek into the water."
An hour later, as they were leaving, Carl told Emma to wait for a moment. "Gotta go to the head, honeypot, and relieve some internal hydraulic pressure. Navy talk for goin' to the bathroom."
Emma opened her purse and knitted a bit, not being one to waste time. She was startled by a yell and a splash, followed by loud, terrible screaming. A moment later, Carl came around the corner with an devilish look in his eyes.
"What happened, dear?" asked Emma.
"I think some kid just fell into the tank. Hope the sharks don't git him."
***
They continued south, through Ormond Beach, famed Daytona Beach, then headed inland to Sanford.
"Why Sanford, dear?"
"Hey, I was stationed here for a few months. Worked with Heavy Attack Squadron Seven. They flew A3Js. Figured I'd stop in here and take a tour like we did in Jacksonville."
Emma sighed. "Carl, I don't mind seeing all these naval bases, but will you please take me to Disney World? Pretty please? With sugar on it."
"Jeez, Emma. Don't get sickening about it. I guess if you can put up with me wandering around these old bases, I can put up with Stinker Bell and the Three Bears."
Emma squealed with delight. "Oh, Carl! You've made me a happy camper. I've always wanted to go there. One thing, though ...it's Tinker Bell and she had nothing to do with the Three Bears."
"I knew that, woman. Just checkin' you out to see if you knew
your history."
***
Three hours later, Emma was wiping Carl's face with a damp rag. "I feel terrible, Emma. Guess I shoulda never ate those three Goofy Burgers and that Space Mountain pizza before I went on that ride."
"Think nothin' of it, dear. I can get most of those vomit stains out of your shirt, but I still don't think that man should have called you all those names just because you splattered him in the back of his head."
"Yeah, the guy was a real jerk. Just remind me never to go on that Pirates of the Carribean ride again in my life. "
"I thought you'd like it dear, what with you being in the Navy and all."
"Emma, real ships don't go uphill and downhill like that. Whatever. I'm feeling a little bit better now. Let's get someth*ing to eat before we go on the Small World ride again. I think my stomach can handle that one okay."
***
They left the Orlando area and took the turnpike back to the ocean. As they headed south, they explored some of the sugar-sand back roads.
Eventually, they found a two-track sand road that led to the ocean, and a secluded little area, right next to the water. They parked The Whale under some palm trees and went about the busi*ness of setting up their off-road camp.
An hour later, Emma had the awning out and the satellite dish up and in position. Lawn chairs were set up close to a folding table, and a few feet from that, the barbecue grill with its coals just starting to turn gray around the edges.
Soon after that, Carl ambled up with a pair of healthy-sized fish on a stringer. Emma beamed. "Oooooh, Carl! You got some fish for supper. What kind are they?"
"Caught. That's what kind. Just cook 'em and put some hot sauce and lemon juice on them. You could make the Yellow Pages taste good with that stuff."
***
A few hours later, Carl and Emma sat back in their chairs and watched the last flickers of sunlight dance on the rippling crests of the waves. They were full and content, and both sipped quietly on a cold can of FrumpMeister beer.
"Carl, isn't this beautiful? It reminds me of when we first used to date. "
"Yeah, that was a long time ago, when you was a lot skinnier and I had a lot more hair."
"Carl, doesn't that give you any ... you know, special ideas? Remember what we did on our honeymoon?"
Carl got a puzzled look on his face, then suddenly his expres*sion brightened. "How could I be so dumb? Remember that special night on our honeymoon , when I took you to Madison Square Garden to watch wrestling? Well, there's a special on tonight highlight*ing the last 20 years of WWF Championship Wrestling. Thanks for reminding me, Emma. I almost forgot!"
Emma sighed and followed Carl inside The Whale.
***
TWO KINDS OF WHALES IN THE WOODS - PART II OF THE MIAMI SAGA
By Rick Sieman
When we last left Carl and Emma, they had just toured the naval base at Jacksonville, where Carl had once been stationed. Though they enjoyed touring the facility, their departure was dampened when the gate officer snarled at them. You see, Carl had heard on his radio that billions were being made selling coke in Florida, and he thought it meant "Coke." When he told the gate officer he was thinking about heading south and setting up a Coke distributorship with his Navy retirement money, the officer threatened to shoot him. Carl figured the officer was a YooHoo soda man and forgot about it. We join Carl and Emma now as they wander farther south through Florida, headed for Miami.
***
Carl drove slowly south on highway A1A, quite a few miles under the speed limit. A1A wanders along the edge of the Atlantic Ocean, providing enough truly awesome sightseeing to slow most traffic down to gawking speeds.
Carl and Emma drove around St. Augustine and noticed that most of the residents were substantially older than they were. A sign on the road indicated that Marineland was just ahead.
Emma beamed. "Oh, Carl! Look! Marineland. Let's stop!"
"Sure, honeypot. I always wanted to see Mickey Moose and Donny Duck, anyways."
Emma furled her brow. "No dear. It's Micky Mouse and Donald Duck, and they're at Disney world. That's further on down the road. Marineland has all kinds of fish and sea life on display in a giant tank."
"Hey, great! I'll get my fishin' rod and a Louisiana Red Wiggler lure, and maybe we can catch us some supper!"
Emma sighed. "Carl, these fish are for you to look at, not catch."
Carl shook his head. "Then what good is this place? If I just want to look at some fish, I could drop a half stick of dynamite in the lake and watch 'em float to the top."
***
Half an hour later, Carl and Emma were standing with noses pressed against the glass, gaping at the fantastic variety of sea life that swam around in the huge main tank.
Emma was fascinated. "Oooh, Carl. What's that pointy-nosed fish there?"
"That? That's a barracuda. A couple or three of those could make a meal outta you."
Emma pointed again. "And that one over there, with the big fin?"
"Shark, Emma. That's Jaws junior, just like in the movie."
Emma looked up at a strange shape that was floating downward.
"My oh my, what's that, dear? A poisonous jellyfish? A coral reef? A barnacle?"
"Naw, that's a hamburger wrapper some snotty-nosed kid threw in the water from the top deck. Somebody ought to push the little geek into the water."
An hour later, as they were leaving, Carl told Emma to wait for a moment. "Gotta go to the head, honeypot, and relieve some internal hydraulic pressure. Navy talk for goin' to the bathroom."
Emma opened her purse and knitted a bit, not being one to waste time. She was startled by a yell and a splash, followed by loud, terrible screaming. A moment later, Carl came around the corner with an devilish look in his eyes.
"What happened, dear?" asked Emma.
"I think some kid just fell into the tank. Hope the sharks don't git him."
***
They continued south, through Ormond Beach, famed Daytona Beach, then headed inland to Sanford.
"Why Sanford, dear?"
"Hey, I was stationed here for a few months. Worked with Heavy Attack Squadron Seven. They flew A3Js. Figured I'd stop in here and take a tour like we did in Jacksonville."
Emma sighed. "Carl, I don't mind seeing all these naval bases, but will you please take me to Disney World? Pretty please? With sugar on it."
"Jeez, Emma. Don't get sickening about it. I guess if you can put up with me wandering around these old bases, I can put up with Stinker Bell and the Three Bears."
Emma squealed with delight. "Oh, Carl! You've made me a happy camper. I've always wanted to go there. One thing, though ...it's Tinker Bell and she had nothing to do with the Three Bears."
"I knew that, woman. Just checkin' you out to see if you knew
your history."
***
Three hours later, Emma was wiping Carl's face with a damp rag. "I feel terrible, Emma. Guess I shoulda never ate those three Goofy Burgers and that Space Mountain pizza before I went on that ride."
"Think nothin' of it, dear. I can get most of those vomit stains out of your shirt, but I still don't think that man should have called you all those names just because you splattered him in the back of his head."
"Yeah, the guy was a real jerk. Just remind me never to go on that Pirates of the Carribean ride again in my life. "
"I thought you'd like it dear, what with you being in the Navy and all."
"Emma, real ships don't go uphill and downhill like that. Whatever. I'm feeling a little bit better now. Let's get someth*ing to eat before we go on the Small World ride again. I think my stomach can handle that one okay."
***
They left the Orlando area and took the turnpike back to the ocean. As they headed south, they explored some of the sugar-sand back roads.
Eventually, they found a two-track sand road that led to the ocean, and a secluded little area, right next to the water. They parked The Whale under some palm trees and went about the busi*ness of setting up their off-road camp.
An hour later, Emma had the awning out and the satellite dish up and in position. Lawn chairs were set up close to a folding table, and a few feet from that, the barbecue grill with its coals just starting to turn gray around the edges.
Soon after that, Carl ambled up with a pair of healthy-sized fish on a stringer. Emma beamed. "Oooooh, Carl! You got some fish for supper. What kind are they?"
"Caught. That's what kind. Just cook 'em and put some hot sauce and lemon juice on them. You could make the Yellow Pages taste good with that stuff."
***
A few hours later, Carl and Emma sat back in their chairs and watched the last flickers of sunlight dance on the rippling crests of the waves. They were full and content, and both sipped quietly on a cold can of FrumpMeister beer.
"Carl, isn't this beautiful? It reminds me of when we first used to date. "
"Yeah, that was a long time ago, when you was a lot skinnier and I had a lot more hair."
"Carl, doesn't that give you any ... you know, special ideas? Remember what we did on our honeymoon?"
Carl got a puzzled look on his face, then suddenly his expres*sion brightened. "How could I be so dumb? Remember that special night on our honeymoon , when I took you to Madison Square Garden to watch wrestling? Well, there's a special on tonight highlight*ing the last 20 years of WWF Championship Wrestling. Thanks for reminding me, Emma. I almost forgot!"
Emma sighed and followed Carl inside The Whale.
***
SuperBuickGuy
Well-Known Member
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The huge Suburban continued south along the ocean, passing through Vero Beach , Fort Pierce and White City. Carl saw a par*ticularly interesting looking road peeling off to the inland side and guided The Whale down it. "Wonder where this thing goes?"
Emma looked at the thick foliage hanging over the trail. "I don't know, dear. It looks too tight to drive through."
Carl snorted. "Hey, woman, this here is a Suburban powered
by a 454 big block and everything is lashed down on the top with Grade 8 nuts and bolts. You just leave the driving up to me."
Moments later, thumping sounds were coming from the top and sides of The Whale, then a yellowish fluid started dripping down the windshield and side windows. Carl became startled and gassed it harder.
The thumping sound increased and the flow of fluid increased until rivulets ran all down the front and side like miniature waterfalls. Carl turned on the wipers, but it did little to increase his vision. The wipers merely flopped back and forth aimlessly, knocking off fluid and seeds...
"Seeds! Emma, those are seeds on the windshield!"
At that moment, a large yellow object bounced off the wind*shield and fell to the ground.
Emma sighed. "And that's a grapefruit, Carl. You've just driven through a grapefruit grove and we are covered with juice and seeds!"
A short time later, Carl found a clearing and pulled The Whale to a halt. Flies were already starting to gather, buzzing madly around The Whale. Carl hooked up the hose to the portable 30-gallon water tank, and spent the next hour cleaning the sticky stuff off the paint job, while Emma knitted silently, which seemed like a good idea at the time.
***
Carl fired up the freshly cleaned Whale and said, "Well, let's head back to the main highway again. I've had enough off-roading through fruit salads for one day. Now, which way did we come from?"
Emma pointed. "I think it's that road to the right, dear."
Carl grunted. "Naw, it's gotta be that road to the left."
***
Three hours later, Carl was well and truly lost. He groaned and took a moment to bang his head on the steering wheel six or seven times. After he had finished, Carl said, "Well, at least we got a CB with us. Gimmee that mike, Emma. I'm gonna try to reach someone and get some directions."
Emma handed Carl the mike and turned the CB on for him. Carl cleared his throat and started talking: This here's The Whale. Does anybody copy me?"
He ran through channel after channel, then, much to Emma's amazement, got an answer: "Identify yourself, please."
Carl thumbed the mike. "This here's The Whale and quite frank*ly, we're lost."
"No problem. Give me a general idea of where you're at."
"Well, we're probably about three miles inland from the high*way. That damned grapefruit grove I went through sorta screwed up my sense of direction."
"Okay. we'll shoot a red flare up in the air. Head for that. You shouldn't be all that far away. Come back to us as soon as you see the flare, La Ballena."
"S'cuse me? What did you say just now?"
"La Ballena. This is The Whale, isn't it?"
"You bet. Fire away."
Moments later, a red flare popped up, burned quickly and then fell. It was off to the left and surely not more than a quarter of a mile away.
Carl thumbed the mike again. "Gotcha. We saw the flare and are headed in that direction. What should I look for?"
"Just look for the usual stuff, Senor Whale. Guns and air*planes." A harsh laugh followed.
Carl looked at Emma. Emma looked at Carl. Carl scratched his chin. "Hmmmm. Wonder how he knew we were driving The Whale? Whatever. We'll find out soon enough."
***
Soon enough! Does Carl even have a clue as to what he's driving into? How many people know that a Ballena is "Whale" in Spanish? I don't know about you, but I'm worried about what's going to happen next in the deep, dark woods near Miami.
Emma looked at the thick foliage hanging over the trail. "I don't know, dear. It looks too tight to drive through."
Carl snorted. "Hey, woman, this here is a Suburban powered
by a 454 big block and everything is lashed down on the top with Grade 8 nuts and bolts. You just leave the driving up to me."
Moments later, thumping sounds were coming from the top and sides of The Whale, then a yellowish fluid started dripping down the windshield and side windows. Carl became startled and gassed it harder.
The thumping sound increased and the flow of fluid increased until rivulets ran all down the front and side like miniature waterfalls. Carl turned on the wipers, but it did little to increase his vision. The wipers merely flopped back and forth aimlessly, knocking off fluid and seeds...
"Seeds! Emma, those are seeds on the windshield!"
At that moment, a large yellow object bounced off the wind*shield and fell to the ground.
Emma sighed. "And that's a grapefruit, Carl. You've just driven through a grapefruit grove and we are covered with juice and seeds!"
A short time later, Carl found a clearing and pulled The Whale to a halt. Flies were already starting to gather, buzzing madly around The Whale. Carl hooked up the hose to the portable 30-gallon water tank, and spent the next hour cleaning the sticky stuff off the paint job, while Emma knitted silently, which seemed like a good idea at the time.
***
Carl fired up the freshly cleaned Whale and said, "Well, let's head back to the main highway again. I've had enough off-roading through fruit salads for one day. Now, which way did we come from?"
Emma pointed. "I think it's that road to the right, dear."
Carl grunted. "Naw, it's gotta be that road to the left."
***
Three hours later, Carl was well and truly lost. He groaned and took a moment to bang his head on the steering wheel six or seven times. After he had finished, Carl said, "Well, at least we got a CB with us. Gimmee that mike, Emma. I'm gonna try to reach someone and get some directions."
Emma handed Carl the mike and turned the CB on for him. Carl cleared his throat and started talking: This here's The Whale. Does anybody copy me?"
He ran through channel after channel, then, much to Emma's amazement, got an answer: "Identify yourself, please."
Carl thumbed the mike. "This here's The Whale and quite frank*ly, we're lost."
"No problem. Give me a general idea of where you're at."
"Well, we're probably about three miles inland from the high*way. That damned grapefruit grove I went through sorta screwed up my sense of direction."
"Okay. we'll shoot a red flare up in the air. Head for that. You shouldn't be all that far away. Come back to us as soon as you see the flare, La Ballena."
"S'cuse me? What did you say just now?"
"La Ballena. This is The Whale, isn't it?"
"You bet. Fire away."
Moments later, a red flare popped up, burned quickly and then fell. It was off to the left and surely not more than a quarter of a mile away.
Carl thumbed the mike again. "Gotcha. We saw the flare and are headed in that direction. What should I look for?"
"Just look for the usual stuff, Senor Whale. Guns and air*planes." A harsh laugh followed.
Carl looked at Emma. Emma looked at Carl. Carl scratched his chin. "Hmmmm. Wonder how he knew we were driving The Whale? Whatever. We'll find out soon enough."
***
Soon enough! Does Carl even have a clue as to what he's driving into? How many people know that a Ballena is "Whale" in Spanish? I don't know about you, but I'm worried about what's going to happen next in the deep, dark woods near Miami.