I can't say that I particularly liked being a security guard, but that's OK, because there were other, jobs that I disliked more. They paid a lot less, and you had to work a hell of a lot harder!
Our old station wagon gave up the ghost and my wife bought herself a late model four door intermediate sized car.
She gave me the keys to the car to test drive it. My wife is short and thin, and I am medium heighth and stocky, so the first thing i did was open up the door, and slide back the seat. I grabbed the steering wheel and tried to slide in but my leg wouldn't go under the wheel. I got back out and looked it over. I put my right foot on the floorboard, then dropped my butt on the seat, levered my head under the roof, bent my right knee and slid my leg under the wheel, bent my left knee, picked up my left leg and placed it inside the car, slid the seat forward, and was finally ready to drive the car. Getting out was almost as bad!
If I have this much difficulty getting in and out of this car, how does a tall person drive one of these things? And how does anybody drive one of those subcompact cars? I read in the paper all of the time about a car being in an accident and the firemen having to use the jaws of life to get the driver out. I think the driver should have used the "jaws" before he got in!
That old station wagon was a good one though, before the motor went bad. It had power steering, brakes, windows, door locks, seats, automatic transmission, and air-conditioning. Even the glove compartment was automatic. It opened everytime you hit a bump in the road.
It also had a four barrel carburetor that held more gas in the fuel bowl than most cars now hold in the tanks. You could drive it along push the pedal to the floor hitting passing gear, look in the rear view mirror, and there behind you would be a smoke screen.
You knew you had just dumped a gallon of gas on the road! I think the gas station where we traded kept a fuel tanker on call just for when my wife pulled in.
You could tie their equipment on top, and carry most of the highschool football team to and from practice, or blow your way through a two foot snow drift during a heavy snow storm. If you put three members of the highschool football team in that new car my wife got, the bumpers would be dragging the ground, and if the weatherman even mentioned snow flurries, it was stuck.
When the battery went bad in that new car, I had to buy a new set of tools. Every nut and bolt on it was metric, and the only metric tools I owned was a screw driver and a pair of pliers.
I decided to change the air-filter also, and it took me fifteen minutes of looking, and then I nearly had to dismantle the engine to get it out!
When it had a flat tire, my wife called, and I went to change it. With the tire flat, the jack wouldn't go under the frame, so i had to go to the gas station and borrow a floor jack to get it high enough to get the car jack underneath.
The lug nuts were stuck and I couldn't get enough leverage on the little two piece wrench that came with the car to break them loose. The lug nuts were also metric and my four-way tire iron wouldn't fit so I had to drive home, pick up a set of tools then change the tire.
And they call this PROGRESS!
The best thing that ever happened to leftovers was the microwave oven. A couple or three minutes and ZZZZZZ, bing and you have a hot meal that tastes as good as when it was cooked.
The worst thing to happen to leftovers was pets.
When I got home from work, my wife was there, getting ready to go shopping.
"Is there anything to eat?", I asked.
"Look in the refrigerator.", she said.
"I looked and asked "What happened to the pot roast?"
"I gave it to the dog."
"How about the beefstew?"
"I gave it to the cat."
"Then, what's to eat?"
"Hotdogs in the freezer."
Sometimes I think the pets eat better then I do!
After I had taken the battery out of the pick-up every night during the winter, I was heading to work one spring morning, and I stopped off at the station for gas. I filled it, got in and hit the starter, and I got one "click" and then dead. I tried again and nothing.
I knew I had one battery cable end that wasn't very good, so I got some tools, took the end off the battery, cleaned it, put it back on and tightened it as well as i could. I tried the switch and "click", and that was it. I took a hammer and tapped the cable end counterclockwise until it appeared to be tight. Tried the switch, "click", and no more. I tapped the cable end clockwise, tried the switch, "Click", and still nothing.
I went inside the station, saw the attendant, and bought a new battery cable end, and installed it.
"Click", "Click", silence.
The other battery cable end was newer, but still had been heavily used, so I took it off and cleaned it.
Tried the switch, "Click". I tapped it counterclockwise, "Click", counterclockwise, "Click".
I went back inside the station, bought another battery cable end, installed it and hit the switch "Click", "Click".
I grabbed a hammer and crawled under the pick-up and tapped the starter.
"Click, Click".
I tapped some more "Click, Click".
The station attendant had come out by this time and suggested that we try jump starting it. He pulled his car over, and I put the jumper cables on. His car was one of the little foreign subcompact cars, and the battery in my pick-up was almost as big as his engine. The battery and alternator of his car looked to be the size of peanuts.
I let the battery charge for a couple of minutes and then tried it. "Click, Click, Click".
I asked about the mechanic, and the attendant told me the mechanic would be coming in about an hour.
I handed the attendant the key and told him "When the mechanic comes in, tell him to fix the "@^#$^&*^$#*ing thing!"
And walked the rest of the way to work.
The mechanic called an hour later and the battery was dead! I had him replace it, but after that I never turned that pick-up off until I got to work!
At the start of one winter the battery in my pick-up was four years old, and I knew it should have been replaced, even though it was a five year battery.
It started good, and I wanted to save the money for Christmas.
In November we had a cold snap where the temperature dropped to five degrees above zero, and the pick-up started with no problems.
In January, what the weatherman called a Polar Airmass rushed in and we had high winds, snow flurries, daily high temperatures of no more than ten degrees above zero, and nightime low temperatures of zero to twenty six degrees below zero.
Zero degrees, the pick-up started right off.
Ten degrees below zero, absolutely no problem.
Twenty degrees below zero, the pick-up turned over six times and started.
Twenty six degrees below zero, grind, groan, click, silence, leaving me shivering, shaking, and cussing in, the high winds, snow flurries, and minus twenty six degree temperature while I ran extension cords so I could set up the battery charger.
Thereafter, every four years, I bought the biggest and best battery I could find, and let everybody else do the shivering, shaking, and cussing!
When I was in the Air Force, I was driving through the desert on a hot summer day, on my way to a job. I hadn't seen a soul for five minutes, and the car suddenly quit running. I coasted off to the side of the road, and turned it over, but it wouldn't re-start.
I opened the hood and checked the radiator and it was OK. I checked the carburetor and it was getting gas. I checked the electrical connections and they were all tight. I went to the door of the car, reached inside turned the ignition switch, and the car started off. I closed the hood, and drove on to my destination without any further problems.
I guess the car got tired of running, and decided to take a break!
I was sitting at a stop light in the left hand lane, and while I was waiting for it to change two cars pulled up behind, and then a guy in a little station wagon pulled up in the right hand lane beside me. He started revving the motor and rocking the car back and forth as if he was Fireball Roberts in a five hundred horse Corvette getting ready to start the Indianapolis Five Hundred. It was pretty obvious that he was going to race off from the stop light, cut me off and make a left hand turn in front of me.
He kept revving the motor, while he was waiting for the light.
I just sat there.
When the green light for the opposite lanes of traffic turned to yellow, he began inching forward.
I just sat there.
By the time our light changed to green, that driver was halfway across the intersection.
I popped the clutch, floored the pick-up and caught him on the other side of the intersection.
He shifted gears, and floored it again.
I held the gas.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him look in the read view mirror, look up, and then he looked over and saw me next to him.
He shifted gears, and floored the gas again.
I held the gas.
The driver looked in the rear view mirror, forward and at me again. That was when the driver remembered that he had bought that station wagon because it got forty miles per gallon and not because it was a drag racer.
I shifted gears.
He slammed on his brakes, and changed lanes cutting off the driver behind me.
He made his corner, but I'll guarantee that from then on, he took his place in line and waited just like the rest of us drivers!
With the exception of one incident where I came pretty close to a crime, I have always lived a fairly honest life. Now, if I should ever decide to steal some money, I am going for at least two million dollars. That's a million for myself, and a million for the lawyers!
I think I'll open up a fitness spa with a fast food restaurant in it.
I'll call it burger, fries, & exercise.
The motto will be EAT while you BEAT your FEET!
