Right off the bat, let me say that I haven’t gotten squat done today at work. The internet has been crawling along at a snail’s pace and I’ve spent most of the day reading and writing about last nights WKRN blogger meet-up. What does it say when you spend more time reading about what you did last night than you actually spent doing it?
I also have made no progress on finishing my last Ireland post, which I hoped to have done before today so as to keep them all in order. I’m a little bit anal that way. I guess I’ll have to do that on my own time and not during work. Well, excuuuuuuse meeeee! Is that a dooce I hear?
But the good news is what I got to do during lunch. When my dad passed away last year, we started to discover stuff he had squirreled away all over town. One of the prime finds was his 1974 Cadillac El Dorado convertible. In his later years, he had forgotten where he had stored it and nobody knew where any of the keys were. Apparently after death notices come out, Store-and-lock places have to cut off the locks and contact next of kin because the automatic bank drafts stop coming.
So we found this car that hadn’t been started or driven in over a decade. (Dad was a pack rat. What can I say?) Until we finally had his 1962 Chevy Bel Air hauled off to the junkyard, he still owned every automobile he had owned since he bought that one new. The only way we got rid of that one was to convince him that we were going to sink it in the Gulf so he could fish for red snapper over it. We didn’t mention the environmental issues if we had actually tried to do that…
Well the Caddy needed everything done to it from tires to transmission, and me and my two brothers aren’t the handiest guys when it comes to things with engines. More than once I’ve put oil in the gas hole and vice versa in my lawn mowers and weed eaters. Luckily, a guy that works with us was also one of Dad’s good friends and really cared a lot about him. He is also a total gear head. We knew he would love the car and restore it, so we just gave it to him.
Today he drove it to work in its mostly-restored state and let me take RUABelle out to lunch in it. Let me tell you, we were pimp-daddy stylin’! I made an entire funeral at the Greenwood Cemetary turn away from the casket when I stopped at a light. OK, I’ll admit that was a little creepy.
Unfortunately, our friend’s wife won’t let him invest any more money in it and she thinks their yard is starting to look like Sanford and Sons. I think she’s pissed because he makes her park in the yard so he can keep the Eldo in the garage. So we’re now investigating future options. I hate to part with it, but I just sold my boat to clear room in my back yard. It reminds me a lot of Dad and it drives like a dream, but it’s a really stupid thing to do. I just don’t know.
The bad news? I was using the aforementioned weedeater last weekend and apparently got into a mess of poison ivy. It is just now swelling and getting painfully itchy. Where, you ask? I swear to God I was wearing shoes while I worked, but it’s between all the toes and the sole of my right foot. Can you imagine anything more annoying?!
Arrrrrgh. Have a nice weekend and pass the Ivy-Rest.