Ten Weeks, Give or Take

And that's the answer to that question. Not bad, actually.

Back in April I was photographed by the Googlemobile on my way to the library. I have to confess, after the first few weeks I stopped checking every day and lately have been looking only once or twice a week so I don't know exactly when it went up, but the new street view is there now and there I am making my turn.

Can't tell that it's me, but it is.

They didn't blur me out or anything, the shot is just too far away and fuzzy. My brother could tell. No one else ever will.

Questions On Being Street Viewed

On my way to the library yesterday, I turned right in front of the Googlemobile waiting at the intersection. Boom! There they were, just past the police radar trap. Since that was the street I was turning onto, I looked them straight in the camera lens. It was a beautiful, warm day and I had my windows down and everything.

The current Street View for that intersection is four years old. I will now check that spot on Google Maps every day for the answers to two questions. How long does it take Google to put up new views once the pictures have been taken? Assuming the camera is running constantly and their car was stopped for a minute or two due to cross traffic, will they select me (and others) out of the scene in favor of shots without traffic if possible? And, if they do use a shot with me in it, how will I look making my turn all pixelated?

O.K. Three. Three questions.

And did they catch the radar trap on camera?

Four.

Steal From My Brother Once, Shame On You. Steal From My Brother Twice . . .

My brother has the learning curve of a lizard.

The police rang our doorbell at 4:00 this morning to let him know they had found his truck. (He was already up having been called by them a few minutes earlier to announce their imminent arrival. I woke up at the sound of the bell.) When they saw who was at the door, the cats all took off like the Angel of the Lord was come to take them to their just reward. We didn't see Paribanour or Mittens again for about six hours.

At first, this particular service--waking people in the middle of the night to notify them of the location of their property--seemed a bit, I don't know, superfluous, since the truck was in the driveway when I went to bed. (Apparently, I don't process too well upon first waking unexpectedly.)

The truck was not in the driveway.

It had been stolen.

It had been stolen and used as a getaway vehicle on a crime spree lasting several hours before being left in a ditch behind the town high school a couple of miles away. Several vehicles in our neighborhood (including, it turned out, Neighbor Dan's truck but not my car) had been entered and pilfered but it was my brother's truck they stole.

Because he left the keys in it.

He left the keys in it! After having his wallet stolen out of the truck only a couple of months ago, he left the keys in it!

So we stood in the driveway, under the eaves of the garage, in the dark and intermittent pouring rain with lightning crashing nearby and the tip of one of Neighbor Dan's palm trees rubbing against an electrical wire in the wind, arcing and sending sparks flying, filling the air with the scent of ozone and burning wood while my brother filled out a criminal complaint form and answered the same questions to each of the three officers who eventually showed up one by one.

They warned him that, although they would try to get the truck back to him as soon as possible, it might take a while if the forensics crew decided they wanted to look for DNA or fingerprints. Also, at the moment they were using the truck as bait, having staked out the area in hopes the perp(s) came back.

As it was, they called at seven to let us know we could come and retrieve it. It was stuck in the ditch, bogged down because of the rain. Neighbor Dan ended up coming by and pulling it out.

The truck works fine and, at first, my brother thought he hadn't lost anything, himself, but on further inspection a diamond ring that belonged to our uncle, of mostly sentimental value, and a check he had out to pay the utility bill, necessitating a visit to the bank to change account numbers, were missing. He added those items to the complaint form. Neighbor Dan may have lost a (full) cash deposit bag from his business. The problem with living in an area as safe as ours is that people get careless.

Let's hope, for my brother's sake, that third time's the charm.

There Is a Fine Line Between Innocence and Irresponsibility

And my brother crossed it.

Apparently, he's been across it for some time now but it's just this weekend that it finally caught up with him.

It's not just that he leaves his truck unlocked. We live in a very safe area of a very safe town. I also leave my car unlocked and, when it's not Rainy Season (or even when it is and the weatherperson is convincing enough about an upcoming temporary dry spell), will leave the windows down* as well. We seldom lock the house, either, even when both of us are away. No, that's the allowable innocence which comes with living here.

It seems my brother, however, has been in the habit of leaving his wallet in his truck. With his driver's license and insurance card in it. And his credit cards.

He could (and did) get away with that here, at home. But, this weekend he went to visit his girlfriend at her place down by the beach. The thieves didn't break anything (didn't have to) and didn't take anything except the wallet. The police took a report although there's not much they can do about it since the bad guy(s) probably had a few hours head start. My brother spent some time on the phone cancelling the cards so he's not out any money (which is the one thing he never keeps in his wallet, anyway) and the insurance company will issue a new card so his only expense should be replacing the driver's license.

And the inconvenience of having to pay for things with checks until his replacement cards arrive.

Will he learn his lesson, change his behavior, or will he figure, considering how long he's been lucky, he's got another twenty years before it happens again?

*Windows up on a clear, sunny day will heat the interior to the point where getting in will suck the air right out of your lungs.

Miscellanea

We're still officially in the middle of Dry Season. (We are also in the middle of The Season, and High Season, both involving tourists from up north and the money they bring with. We have lots of overlapping "Seasons.") So, of course, tthe first big thunderstorm of the year arrived at noon, exactly as predicted, and my brother announced that his truck was dead. Fortunately, just the battery, so we spent a few minutes in the pouring rain using my new battery to jump his.

The sidewalk construction is over (directly in front of us, anyway). Tuesday morning a gang of six or seven came by with the front loader. It was carrying a stacked cube of lawn turves, each like a large flooring tile about two feet on a side. When the scraper went through at the start of construction, the path it made was more a suggestion of where the sidewalk could go rather than the exact line it would take and so the scraped area was a couple times wider than the ultimate installation. This bunch was filling in the divots, as it were, walking along beside the front loader as it crawled down the street, pulling turves from the stack and plopping them in place on both sides of the sidewalk. It was absolutely the largest crew I've seen working on any aspect of this project. When they were gone, the guy with the leaf blower came down the street again al by himself, pushing their dirt and droppings off the road, cleaning up after the parade. Today the cones came down and we are officially out of the construction zone.

The mango tree is covered, engulfed, smothered in blossoms. If even one per cent of them survive to become fruit we are going to be buried this summer. We gave away half our crop last year, ate mangoes every day for six months (mango ice cream, bowls of mango and mixed fruit, pancakes and French toast topped with mangoes, chilled mango salad, sweet potatoes with mango glaze, mango salsa, mango lassi, mango chutney, . . .), and we still have stocks in the freezer.

Close, But Still Not the Jetson's Car

I've been a little disappointed in our collection of catalogs this year. The usuals have arrived on schedule and a couple of new, although not terribly interesting, new ones have shown up but, overall, and with the obvious exception of Hammacher Schlemmer, they're pretty bland this year.

The one I was looking forward to, Vermont Country Store (because it's the one catalog that offers old-fashioned metal ice cube trays with a pull-up release handle to replace our increasingly brittle, leaky plastic twist-the entire-tray-to-get-the-cubes-out ones) sent a truncated "gift" catalog without the usual old-timey necessity items--like ice cube trays.

Speaking of Hammacher Schlemmer, this is the first time my brother has ever tossed a catalog my way and said simply, "Want!" I don't blame him. The featured toy for folks with too much money is a helicycle, a three-wheeled, two seater, street legal enclosed motorcycle which converts into a helicopter. And it's only $295,000, including flight lessons. No telling what the insurance would run. Still, I think if I win the lottery, if I ever play the lottery, I'd rather just buy four or five Teslas and keep the change.

And, anyway, that's already old hat. The newest Hammacher Schlemmer (they come every two weeks this time of year) features a tricycle that seats seven adults in a kind of circular firing squad pattern. Only one person controls direction and braking but a fancy gearing mechanism means everyone pedals. And it's a much more reasonable $20K.

 

Now, if only it played calliope tunes and the seats moved up and down.

 

 

Financial Wheeling and Dealing, Tax Division

The deadline for renewing my car's registration is here . . . so I bought a couple bottles of wine.

It's not that the re-registration process is something that could drive someone to drink. I have mentioned before that it's actually very quick, simple and relatively painless. Bring the registration notice to the county building, pick up a number, stand in the shortest imaginable line (there was one couple ahead of me), hand the notice to the clerk, pay the fee, receive the sticker and off you go. Fifteen minutes, including travel time (we live pretty near the county building).

No, the wine, or at least some purchase (I also bought dates, figs, tomatoes, onions, a wedge of brie and a pomegranate), is necessary because the county insists on tacking on a surcharge to all payments made with debit/credit cards and, since I still use my bank back in Salt Lake City, meaning all ATMs out here are out-of-market and charge fees for extracting cash, therefor getting said money requires going to the grocery store and adding on the cash-back option to my purchase.

Theoretically, I could just buy a pack of gum and still get the $60 cash back but that seems lame and Thanksgiving is here so we're going to indulge anyway.

And the car's legal for another year.

The Recession Must Be Over

I found a notice from the city hung on our front door knob this morning. They're planning on installing sidewalks on both sides of the main road past our house.

The road, when originally built, was two lanes in each direction with a large median separating oncoming traffic. The lane widths, however and in keeping with the typical cheap design of the entire town by the original developers*, were too narrow, although technically legal (the best kind of legal) which meant cars traveling in the same direction, if one tried to overtake the other, would literally come within inches of each other in the process. And this was before SUVs. Forget about trucks.

In the case of our road, a decision was made** to make the next-over parallel through road into the major thoroughfare and to remove a lane in each direction from our now-secondary street. The remaining lane was widened and the leftover paved right-of-way was turned into bike lanes.

Now they're going to put in sidewalks, although the few people I see out walking around use the bike lanes without any conflict from the (just as few) bicyclists. Still, considering the amount of rain we've had recently and the soggy condition of the ground, a hard surface to walk on further removed from traffic might be a good idea.

In fact, the major problem I see is the continuing rain. We had a couple of glorious sunny, low humidity days right at the equinox. Since then it has been continuous overcast and downpour without sight of the sun. The ground is mush and our swale is a fully qualified moat. Any digging the road crew does is going to have to be between the swale and the road and is still going to be all mud. I can't imagine any concrete they pour is ever going to set properly before mid-winter.

In any event, it will keep the city workers busy and our driveway doesn't open on to that street. Also, I think the palm on the corner is far enough back (our side of the swale/moat) to not be affected by the construction. So have at it!

*Many of the major roads have since been widened but the bridges over the canals, being much more expensive to upgrade, are still the original width and can cause quite the adrenaline rush when multiple vehicles attempt to use them at the same time.

**This happened when the powers finally admitted the entire city's transportation infrastructure was completely inadequate for the population and bulldozed a limited access crosstown boulevard clear through the city about a 1/4 mile south of us. The next street over got the full intersection and traffic signal, we got a westbound only entrance/exit and no light.

Payin' It Out, Old School

I got on the phone yesterday to pay my semi-annual auto insurance bill and received a surprise. A human answered.

There was a weird kind of electronic hiccup while the phone was ringing, a hesitation of sorts, while the system apparently switched from the standard automated routine to human back-up. I was so startled to hear a real person I blurted out, "Oh, I was expecting the computer," when she said, "Hello."

She seemed a bit taken aback, too, and not aware their system was down. Nevertheless, she took my policy number, confirmed my name and birthdate, and asked if I wanted to pay the full amount with the card they have on file. I said, "Yes." She said, "Done," and gave me my confirmation number.

The whole process took less than half the time going through their automated phone tree does mostly because the robot voice offers repetitive descriptions of its intent and actions and demands constant confirmation of mine.

I'm sure the robot is cheaper but the human was way more efficient. And nicer to talk to.

Sign of the Times

Pulled up behind a truck towing an enclosed utility trailer at a traffic light yesterday. The back of the dark maroon trailer had a large headline that read, "Ten Simple Rules" across the top with the list appearing below in rather fine yellow print that was difficult to read without tailgating.

At first I thought the trailer might be a rental and the "Rules" were instructions for proper usage. As I eased up closer, however, I could finally decipher that small print and recalled where I was.

Ah, yes. Not "Rules." The Ten Commandments. Written in contemporary ("You must not . . .") rather than traditional ("Thou shalt not . . .") style. The trailer might still be a rental, though. Sometimes this place is south New York. Other times it's just deep South.

Stereotypes, Florida Automotive Division

Today, on a major boulevard in town: a delivery truck for a local electronics retailer cruising down the middle lane with his left turn blinker on. Yesterday, on a slightly smaller street (only two lanes in each direction) a motorcycle in the far right hand lane, ridden by an elderly gentleman, cars fearful of passing him because he, also, had his left turn signal blinking merrily away for over a mile.

Coming out of the library, a little old emphysematic lady (she doesn't use oxygen but you can hear her wheezing a good ten feet away) wisely stopped at the edge of the curb and waited while an SUV pulling out from the book drop-off ran the stop sign. She then tottered through the parking lot to her own car where she literally disappeared (her hands on the steering wheel were more visible through the windshield than her head). The car eased off down the road a good fifteen miles and hour under the speed limit.

The decade-old, mufflerless pick up truck with the rebel flag decals on the rear window that took off from the intersection as if the green flag had dropped at Daytona all screeching tires and clouds of exhaust fumes only to stall out half a block down the road blocking the lane.

And not least, by far: the Mercedes SUV with the "Tell Barack I'm Baroke" bumper sticker.

I don't think so.

Government Efficiencies

Birthday time is also automobile registration renewal time so I went over to the tax collector's office this afternoon.

The county has separated routine tax payments from others that might require additional information/decision-making/judgment calls and so there is a typically governmental larger room with rows and rows of metal framed plastic chairs for people dealing with those issues and a small rope-lined area for "I'm just here to pay, no questions, no issues, thank you very much," folks, like me, all overseen by the number-issuing concierge.

I told the number-issuing concierge I was here to renew my vehicle's registration. He said, "That's it?" I said, "Yes," he printed out my number and told me to enter the rope line. By the time I reached the end of that (very short) path, the only person in front of me was finishing up with the cashier, who called my number. I handed her the registration notice and the cash (because Florida lets card companies tack on a service fee for using plastic) and she handed me my change and the license plate sticker.

I was in and out in under two minutes.

A few years ago, when I wanted to start an LLC back in Salt Lake City, I went on line to learn the process and required information (which was minimal). With that in hand, I went to the county offices there, paid the fees and had my business officially up and running in less than two hours.

When the government has a financial interest in getting you through the system it can be impressively efficient.

I just wish I knew how to apply that interest to running an election.

Redneck Studies

My brother had to take his truck in for repairs . . . again.

It is my considered opinion, after careful study, that rednecks make purchases, especially major ones, only after careful study and deliberation which they invariably ignore in favor of the emotions of the moment.

When my brother's car died last year, he looked at a used truck in a repair shop lot as a potential replacement. Since the vehicle was offered without warranty, I went and bought him a CARFAX report on it which showed a clean record with no serious issues. The next day, he came home with his "new" truck--which he had purchased, for cash, on the spur of the moment, at a completely different garage. Since then, he has had to replace/repair tires, fuel pump, radiator, driver's door, driver's window motor, an axle and now the water pump. He makes no connection between the number and cost of the repairs and not doing research before impulse buying.

The same thing happened last weekend with our new freezer. The store advertising the sale was sold out, six to eight days until delivery. So he went out scouting around, found a used one for even less and had it delivered on Sunday. It doesn't fit under the shelf where the old one was and wouldn't go through the front door so we had to dig out a path through the garage (which was actually shorter to its final destination in the laundry room) which caused the local zoning popo to stop by a day later and inquire about all the cartons still scattered across the lawn and driveway because we left the pathway in the garage open but my brother was able to explain them away since they were mostly Christmas decorations which he had decided to take over to the storage unit until needed again. The gasoline cans he explained as precaution against Isaac which the city guy thought was reasonable and said as long as everything was cleaned up within a week it would be O.K.

At least the freezer does have a one year warranty. As for raising/removing the shelf so the freezer can go back against the wall: if it happens before the warranty runs out I will be very surprised.

DIY Follies, Automotive Division

I am not mechanically inclined. I know this and readily admit it. While I am fascinated by systems and the workings of mechanical objects and often understand (and can, in cases, even teach others) the theory behind things that work, I know better than to try making them work myself, if they choose not to. This applies especially to automobiles.

Despite 20+ years of listening to "Car Talk," to the point where I often call out the diagnosis before the hosts do, and despite "helping" (meaning "supervising," meaning "watching") a friend do a driveway brake job, I will not attempt my own repairs. That said, there are two things I can do: change a tire and change the oil.

So this morning, having purchased oil and filters, gathered paper towels and tracked down the funnel, I made ready to do manly car stuff. I pulled on the little handle to release the hood latch and heard the thump as it released.

Or, heard a thump of some kind. The hood was still sealed shut.

I pulled again. Nothing happened. Finally, on the third try I got a result. The latch handle broke free from the cable.

I managed to get the latch reattached to the hinge (but not the cable) and drove up to the mechanic my brother uses on a regular basis. I had been there only once before, myself, when I first moved down here and wanted the car gone over after it's 2000 mile trip, but I was in their computer so all was good and, within half an hour, the cable was reattached and the oil changed all for less than $30. They used their own oil and filters, so now I have a stash set aside against any future lubricant-based emergency.

At least I can still change a tire.

The Shortcut

My brother went across the river yesterday to buy a couple of tires, one for himself and one for me. He picked some little hole-in-the-wall shop no bigger than a two car garage that specializes in cheap tires. He came home empty-handed.

Just as he pulled into the alley where the shop is located he heard a loud explosion. It seems a full size semi-tractor trailer rig had, instead of simply going straight out to the street, tried to take the diagonal through the back lot of the tire shop where the low hanging power lines slid up and over the wind spoiler on top of the cab and dropped down between the cab and the trailer catching there and pulling down the power pole, snapping it into six pieces and blowing up both of the transformers attached to it. When people went to investigate, they found the idiot driver out of the cab and trying unsuccessfully to push, by hand, the wires back over the top of the trailer, presumably so he could continue on his way.

With power out in the neighborhood, my brother came home mission unaccomplished.

He went back this morning after calling to confirm that electricity had been restored. The owner was so grateful/desperate for business he called back to ask what sizes we were looking for so he could have them ready and waiting when my brother arrived.

Miscellanea

Why, when entering a limited access road, do people stop on the entrance ramp and, instead of using the acceleration/merge lane, wait for traffic to clear and then enter by immediately cutting across three lanes to start speeding up in the express lane? I have not seen this behavior anywhere else although it is being done here by drivers with a number of different out-of-state plates.

What I first took to be an obvious and badly placed speed trap turned out to be two city police cars, a city police pick-up truck and the city police dive squad panel truck all parked at the end of a canal. Not a good sign.

Redneck Studies

I've been studying my brother for some time now and I am beginning to get a handle on the concept of "Redneck" especially the southern variety. For one thing, it's an acquired trait. My brother was born and raised in New England and has lived everywhere from the northern plains to southern California without betraying any such tendencies previously.

One of the primary traits is the habit of trying to come up with original yet ad hoc solutions to common problems, attempting to bypass the ways of the world as it were, without, at the same time, covering all of the possible, and often obvious, consequences.

For example: My brother decided, a couple of years ago when gasoline prices were going through one of their regular and in no way manipulated spikes, to do a little hydrocarbon arbitrage. He bought a number of plastic jerry cans and filled them with regular unleaded in an attempt to lock in the price. The full cans he then stored in the shed out back.

Let's forget the opportunity cost of tying up cash in a volatile commodity.

The redneck point is: The shed is not watertight. Neither are the jerry cans. By the time the price of gas had risen enough for him to feel justified dipping into the strategic reserve, the cans contained probably 98% distilled petroleum and 2% H2O. I had to rescue him more than once before we figured out why his truck kept conking out on him (invariably in the middle of the night).

Although he no longer tops off the truck from the cans neither has he disposed of the contaminated fuel. (Note: Review the concept of sunk costs.) Apparently, a couple of weeks ago he filled the tank of the lawnmower from one of the cans. The lawn is now knee high and the grass is literally going to seed. (The length of time it has taken to fix the mower, this time, is not entirely his fault since Mom put the receiver of the phone in her room (Why does she even have a phone in her room?) down backwards which took the entire house off-line for the weekend (we don't use the land line much) causing the lawnmower repair guys to get a busy signal and delay returning the mower to us.)

The last time the mower needed repair (August) he bitched and moaned for a day and a half about the cost. This time, not a word. Which means he knows it's his fault. The repair guys didn't just find water in the tank. Spiders (more accurately, spider corpses) were clogging up the carburetor, too.

Saunamobile

I foolishly left my car windows open last night. In my defense, it hasn't rained directly here in several days (although we could see the rain coming down all around us) and the humidity was way down and there were no clouds of consequence nearby. So I took the chance.

Somewhere around 11 p.m. I realized the sound I was hearing was not the air conditioner fan but rain pounding on the roof. I could see the full moon through the clouds even though it was pouring. So I ran out and put the windows up even though the interior was already wet. (I think I must have gotten out there fairly early in the storm because the seats were damp but not soaked through.)

When I went out to retrieve the mail at noon today I opened the driver's door and was stunned by a blast of intense humidity. I could hardly breathe as I sat down to insert the key to activate the windows. The buttons were so hot I couldn't maintain contact and had to press them intermittently. Even an hour later the car is noticeably more humid than the surrounding air.

On the bright side, a few minutes in the car makes the rest of the Florida day seem very comfortable.