I forgot to plug in the block heater on my truck yesterday. That’s the simple little act of neglect that’s prompting this post.
I drive a 20 year old F-250 Diesel that holds 15 quarts of pretty heavy oil and if you don’t plug it in and allow the block heater to keep the oil viscous on cold nights then it’s hell to start the next morning. That’s where I found myself at 9a.m. this morning….sitting in a truck that wouldn’t turn over.
Simple fix…plug the block heater in and sit and wait about thirty minutes and like magic, the engine will crank and fire. SO…somewhere in that thirty minute wait I wrote what I thought was a humorous post. Being the facetious and sarcastic guy that I am, I wrote a little post that said I was heading out to pay my taxes and insurance this morning and truck wouldn’t start….I said I didn’t know if it was a sign from the Truck Gods telling me it’s time to buy a new truck, or a sign from the Finance Gods telling me to start rebelling against Government Extortion. That’s funny, right?
Now….those who know well me poked fun with comments about my choice of vehicle manufacturer or made suggestions about the steps necessary to become my own sovereign country to avoid the continued extortion of the current government agencies. It was the other comments that threw me off a little. Not so much the comments as the mass pile of private messages that came pouring in.
FIRST and FOREMOST….it was heartwarming to know that a whole load of people took time out of their day to throw their suggestions into the digital wind in an effort to help me get my truck moving and my day back on track. There’s really not enough of that in the world today, and I’m sincerely thankful that I associate with people who would take a minute or two out of their day in an attempt to make my day a little brighter. So, to each and every one of you…thank you…even if your suggestion didn’t solve my problem the fact that you cared enough to offer a possible a solution to my problem did in fact, brighten my day.
But as I sorted through the comments and PM’s, what became alarmingly obvious to me was something that I’d never really considered. Most of the people offering assistance have been friends of mine for thirty (plus) years…and yet they really didn’t know me. Now…that’s my fault. I don’t talk a lot about myself or what’s going on in my life, and when I do it’s usually something humorous or self-depreciating that my twisted little mind thinks may put a smile on someone’s face. It’s not that I try to be overly guarded with the facts of my life…it’s just that I don’t really consider myself interesting enough to talk about.
So, for the three of you who take the time to read these blogs, here’s a little 101 course on me.
When my hands still functioned like they were designed to, I used to tear old vehicles down to the frame and build them back up just for the fun of it. Cars, truck, motorcycles…Fuel Injectors or Carburetors…stick-shift or automatic…I’ve torn into them all. I’ve rebuilt motors on everything from lawnmowers to three-quarter ton trucks.
I used to build computers from scrap parts. Desktops and Laptops with fully integrated software packages and network ready just like you’d ordered them from Dell or HP…in most cases they’d operate smoother than if you’d ordered them from a big company.
I can run any kind of household wire. From telephone and network wire to fiber optic and coaxial cable to 220 lines for your oven or hot water tank, I can get it to where it needs to be, terminate it properly and make it function safely and effectively.
I’m a pretty decent carpenter/woodworker. From ground-up building construction to bird houses and everything in between, I can usually engineer and produce something structurally sound that will stand the test of time. Aside from the structures, I used to build custom furniture, shelving and cabinets.
I don’t think there’s a weapons system on the planet that I can’t disassemble, repair and reassemble and fire effectively.
I hate….yeah, that’s the right word….HATE….plumbing. However, as much as I abhor it…I can do it.
I hunt and fish and process everything I harvest. I garden all summer long and along with the wife, process everything we harvest. I can grill, I can cook and I can bake. It’s completely possible to sit down to a meal at my house and belly up to a plate full of foods that have been touched by no other human hands than mine.
Now…I’m not formally trained to do any of the stuff I just listed. That’s all just stuff I picked up along the way. Ya see….obsessive compulsive disorder does have an upside when coupled with chronic insomnia. The OCD fuels the quest for a solution and the insomnia makes damn sure I’ve got enough hours in the day to find that solution. 🙂 Combine the OCD & insomnia with the fact that I’ve been fortunate enough to be surrounded by friends and family who never shied away from an opportunity to teach me something I didn’t know and….well….that’s how you end up being a jack of all trades.
As far as formal training goes, I have a BA from Marshall University in absolutely nothing (Regents Degree), minors in History and Integrated Science & Technology and four different grad certificates in Appalachian Culture. I’m a trained water safety and survival instructor, a trained hand to hand combat instructor, a trained transitional shooting instructor, a military parachutist, a military jump master, and a rappelling instructor. I’m trained in mountain warfare, jungle warfare, and urban warfare. I’m trained as a forward observer, I’m trained in reconnaissance, I’m trained in personnel management, and I’m trained in global logistics. I’m highly trained in man-pack communications and can build an antenna that will talk half-way around the world from things you’d find laying around just about any urban dumpsite. The list of places I haven’t been is shorter than the list of places I have been. The list of things I haven’t done is shorter than the list of things I’ve done. If you haven’t noticed yet, I’ve got a whole drawer full of papers that state I’m trained to do a whole lot of stuff….yet, very little of what I’m formally trained in corresponds with any type of employment opportunities you’ll find in the help wanted ads of your local newspaper. So….if the Zombie Apocalypse doesn’t happen in our lifetime, what good is it?
If you’ve read the other blogs, you know about my family and my critters, so I won’t drag you down those roads again.
I’m a big music fan. All genres…literally ALL genres…but I’m partial to electric blues. I can’t play an instrument or read music. I can’t seem to make myself sit still long enough to learn that stuff. After 10 minutes if I’m not bending guitar strings like Stevie Ray Vaughn then I decide I’ve got better things to do. BUT….there’s always music playing in the background of my life…except when I’m hunting…that would be counter-productive.
I speak two languages fluently….English and Appalachian. I know enough words and phrases to get me into or out of trouble in about six different languages.
Since Jordan, Pippen, Rodman, Kerr and Longley broke up the band I can’t get into watching basketball until the NCAA tournament. I’m the kind of guy who can watch and analyze every pitch and swing of a baseball game….from little league through MLB. I’m much the same way with football. I’ve never been able to get into golf, hockey, soccer or tennis.
I have an unfathomable dislike/distrust/disdain of the government and the media. I honestly believe the two biggest examples of organized crime the planet has ever known are the republican and democratic parties.
Time and miles have taken their toll. I’m a little chubbier than I should be. I drink too much coffee, and probably don’t get enough water. (and NO…the coffee has nothing to do with the insomnia) I’ve got quite a bit of metal in me and most of my joints don’t work like they were designed to…BUT, I still love manual labor…as of yet, the trade-off between pain and the satisfaction of looking back over an accomplished task still leans on the side of work. I think I’m too damn dumb to quit some days.
Jeans, T-shirts, Boots and Ball Caps….the occasional sweatshirt & beanie when the weather calls for it. I guess that’s something that never changed. I wake up every morning and dress like I’m headed to homeroom in high school circa 1987. I’ve got nice clothes…I just never wear them. Dressing up for me is normally taking the sweatshirt and beanie off and tossing on a sweater. I love sweaters….you can look semi-dressed-up and still not have a collar on your shirt.
I try not to take things too seriously anymore. I took everything way too seriously for a lot of years…occupational hazard.
SO….there ya go. That’s me opening up and talking about me. I know I left a lot of shit out, but if we’ve known each other most of our lives and haven’t really had a chance to catch up in a few decades, that should bring you up to speed.
I’m sure someone out there is wondering “how did I not know any of this?”…well, it’s real simple…I don’t post any of this stuff on social media. Aside from the music and probably some baseball stuff I rarely post anything that pertains directly to me. The world and especially the internet is FILLED with irrelevant information that people forget thirty seconds after they see it, and I’ve never seen much of a reason to add to that mess. I’m not that interesting….nobody cares what I’m having for dinner or what I plucked from the garden that day. Nobody wants to see the bloody aftermath of my hunting or fishing exploits. There’s more than enough people out there bitching about politics and the media and what I have to say on the matter really isn’t going to sit well with literally HALF of the people I know. So I just try to lighten everyone’s world up a little every day….try to make just one person smile. Because when I’m dead and gone, I don’t want someone to remember that I could fix my truck, hunt, garden or build a cabinet….I want them to think of me and remember the one day that they were about to pull their hair out and I said or did something to make them smile.
BUT….I am an open book….I have no secrets. So if you ever have a question, just ask.