It Happened Out There

In one of my favorite scenes in the movie 'Captain Ron', the one-eyed captain gazes out over the blue green waters of the Caribbean Sea, and says 'What ever is going to happen is going to happen out there.' I love that line. Of course, at this point in the movie, Captain Ron has yet to be revealed as a complete lunatic.

In a similar fashion, we set out last Thursday for Arkansas. As a result of having suffered various forms of vehicular failure on most of the last few trips down south, we have recently acquired a 'new' van. It will be recalled that a year ago last December, we made a Christmas run to Arkansas that was inturrupted only 60 miles into the journey. After being rescued by my Father-in-Law, and slamming my hand in the car door, we continued on to Arkansas for a successful trip. Our next excursion was Florida for spring break. Unfortunately, on the day we left Florida we discovered that our fuel system was still compromised, and water was still able to penetrate the tank. The final debacle was this past December when we were stranded in a rest area near Marion, Virginia in a horrible ice storm. It was certainly time to retire the old Ford Van.

Our new van is a Dodge. It has a few miles on it, but it is pristine, and we bought it through a reputible dealership. It's about 3 feet shorter than the old Ford, but we don't need all that room anymore. I was anticipating much better gas milage because it has a six cylindar engine rather than the huge eight cylindar that was in the Ford. We looked at the van and drove it on a Saturday, and returned to the dealership on Monday and bought it.

On Wednesday, the dealership filed for bankruptcy protection. Uh oh.

Did we have the title in our hands? Nope. Did we have tags for the van? Nope. Did we have the registration? Nope. But, apparantly the Fates were in our favor because all three materialized over the next week or so, and I thought out troubles might be over. I was wrong.

Having secured tags, title and registration, I drove the van one day to have lunch with some of my old work pals. It's a 24 mile commute up over the Watchung Mountains. I drove it almost daily for 3 years. I was 10 miles into the journey when I noticed that the alternator was not charging. Damn. I turned around and took the van to our local garage. There was a little voice in the back of my mind snickering. The rational moron who apparantly co-habitates with the little voice in the the back of my mind suggested that 'Hey, it's not that bad. Alternator's go out. It's a maintenance thing.' That's 'reasonable', I thought, but the snickering still bothered me.

While in the shop, I decided to have the van checked for other potential problems because in a few short weeks, we would be making a trip to Arkansas in it. $2700 later, with a new water pump, a mostly rebuilt front end as well as new brakes, our 'new' van was fit to make the journey to Arkansas. Having picked the van up from the garage, we decided to drive it when we went out for dinner and a movie.

The restaurant and theater are only about 5 miles from our home. Before we even got half way, the van was surrounded by clouds of steam. Back to the garage. The little voice in the back of my head snickered again. The rational moron in me said "This sort of stuff just happens sometimes."

Finally, the day for the trip to Arkansas arrived. My bride and I both were a little apprehensive because this was the 30th day we had owned the van, and it had been in the garage for 18 of those days. The little voice in my head was placing bets with the rational moron in me as to whether or not we'd even make it out of Jersey.

Never the less, as we loaded the van with luggage and assorted crap, my mind wandered back to Captain Ron's words. The van's engine was tight, and pulled well. The tires were good. The belts were good, and the radiator was topped up. There was plenty of windschield washer fluid. Landi, Jordan, Catfish and I got in the van and pulled out. Weather reports indicated that we could expect good weather for the entire trip. Everything was wonderful as we crossed the river from Jersey to Pennslyvania. We switched the radio to the rock station that broadcasts from Allentown. Jordan was studying in the back of the van. Catfish was listening to his Ipod. Landi was knitting, and I was listening to the clatter of the lifters.......

Clatter of the lifters? WTF? The little voice in my head and the rational moron in me were laughing their asses off.

A quick glance revealed that we had no oil pressure. None. Ziltch. I switched off the engine and steered the van onto the shoulder of the road. We had gone 78 miles, and suffered a catastrophic engine failure.

Captain Ron was right. It did happen out there.

A Truely Super Sunday

Sunday was a beautiful day. It began with Mimosas and a good breakfast. Since my former employer told me last month that my services were no longer needed because my performance was not on par with that of my fellow Vice Presidents, I don't get up and check 'my' computers first thing in the morning. It's just not my problem anymore. I get up, and I have a Mimosa and cook the Catfish and my bride a good breakfast. I have found that it really is true that if you're going to drink all day, you have to start in the morning.

So, SuperSunday began nicely, and then it got better. A friend texted me. "Intellione is down.", the message read. Intellione is a huge computer that runs roughly 30% of the world's third largest collections company. When it is down, the company is down and is bleeding serious money. Intellione had been one of my boxes. For three years, I had monitored it and pampered it and corrected the miriad of problems that had made the big server so unreliable and troublesome for prior administrators. In the last two years, Intellione had been very stable and reliable. It had not suffered not one minute of unplanned downtime in over 25 months, which is why 2.0 decided that my services, and my bad attitude, were no longer needed.

These sweet moments are to be treasured.

This guy, who just days after Mom passed away, gave me a ration of shit telling me that this company doesn't have berevement time; this guy who gave me a ration of shit about taking a day off in December to attend my Father-in-Law's funeral; this guy who just last month told me that 'my performance wasn't up to par' and fired me, was being slow roasted over a raging fire of sleep deprived, caffine fueled weasels. Because he didn't have a single ally in the organization, I knew that he was alone in the debacle, swinging in the breeze. It must have been truly agonizing because I know that he would rather french kiss a monkey's ass than call me, but my friend had texted me again, and he was asking for my phone number.

There are moments in your life where you get to make a decision. Sometimes, you see a drowning man, and, even though you know him for what he is, you find the means to rescue him. You find a bouy, or a rope, in worst case you get in the water, but you find a way to help the man.

This wasn't one of those times. This was a time for popcorn...... and Mimosas

The phone rang.

Pucker up big boy.