apparently
this is the new and improved blogger
whatcha think about that?
Sunday, August 31, 2008
Saturday, August 30, 2008
Chapter 78
the sound: Leehorn – China White, Velvet Undergound - Heroin, Lou Reed - Heroin, Neil Young – The Needle and the Damage is Done, Eric Clapton – Cocaine, Jackson Browne – Cocaine
Gus turned out to be just the kind of weasely, greasy little fellows one would suspect a drug dealer would look like in those days.
“how cliché” I thought as I led him into the bedroom to speak to Robert
“get lost Baby” Robert suggested as I ushered Gus through the door
“what? No welcoming kiss?” Gus sniggered as he made a grab for my breast when I walked past him
“maybe you handn’t heard Gus” Robert spoke softly “Baby is my Canadian girl...soon to be my wife if Mrs. K has anything to do with it…”
Gus threw me a look of sympathy and I found myself angered that this little spit, this little despicable ant of a man felt anything like sympathy for me.
“Fuck you” I said succinctly as I headed for the door.
Gus made a noise and a sound behind me and I turned in time to see him reaching for me but stopped in his tracks as Robert leveled his 45 at Gus’s head. “ya might not want to upset me Gus…I’m a little shaky today”
Gus sniggered his greasy uncomfortable little laugh “Robert, Robert, Robert let’s not be hasty…you have something I’d like...and I have something you need…”
“Gus…yer right…you do have something I need…but I’ll be fucked if yer having Baby before me…” I saw the beads of sweat on Robert’s brow and understood just how much holding that pistol up was costing him.
“Fine then…lets talk” Gus replied.
I left the room.
Not long after Gus left, I walked into the bedroom at Robert’s call. “Baby…I need my works…in the bottom drawer in the bathroom”
“get em yerself” I swore…
Again the fist with the pistol came up…”I ain’t arguing with you little girl…get me my works or it’s gonna get right fuckin ugly in here….”
“win the fight and lose the war” I thought to myself as I got Robert’s kit out of the drawer and stomped into the bedroom to toss them on the bed.
“Fine…yer on yer own” I barked…
“Not quite….I’m gonna need some help” was Robert’s reply
I argued for a bit…but in the end, Robert and his 45 were convincing…
I sat on the side of the bed closest to the table and opened the kit. I took out the belt and the glass syringe and laid them on the table top. I took out the spoon and I placed a hefty amount of the powder from the packet Robert handed me into the bowl of the spoon and very carefully added a couple of drops of water…I picked up the syringe and checked the point for barbs and then stirred the mixture in the spoon carefully...I set down the syringe and picked up Robert’s Zippo looking up to meet his eyes...
“You’ve done this before” Robert commented.
“yeah” I sighed and felt the sweat begin…my arm itched and my hands trembled just the tiniest bit…
This was the closest I’d been to a kit or powder since Michael had died and in a moment all that sadness and desperation came flooding back to me...
"what the fuck" I thought...
I remembered gladly the comfort in not feeling anything and I no longer knew if I had the strength to walk away.
Gus turned out to be just the kind of weasely, greasy little fellows one would suspect a drug dealer would look like in those days.
“how cliché” I thought as I led him into the bedroom to speak to Robert
“get lost Baby” Robert suggested as I ushered Gus through the door
“what? No welcoming kiss?” Gus sniggered as he made a grab for my breast when I walked past him
“maybe you handn’t heard Gus” Robert spoke softly “Baby is my Canadian girl...soon to be my wife if Mrs. K has anything to do with it…”
Gus threw me a look of sympathy and I found myself angered that this little spit, this little despicable ant of a man felt anything like sympathy for me.
“Fuck you” I said succinctly as I headed for the door.
Gus made a noise and a sound behind me and I turned in time to see him reaching for me but stopped in his tracks as Robert leveled his 45 at Gus’s head. “ya might not want to upset me Gus…I’m a little shaky today”
Gus sniggered his greasy uncomfortable little laugh “Robert, Robert, Robert let’s not be hasty…you have something I’d like...and I have something you need…”
“Gus…yer right…you do have something I need…but I’ll be fucked if yer having Baby before me…” I saw the beads of sweat on Robert’s brow and understood just how much holding that pistol up was costing him.
“Fine then…lets talk” Gus replied.
I left the room.
Not long after Gus left, I walked into the bedroom at Robert’s call. “Baby…I need my works…in the bottom drawer in the bathroom”
“get em yerself” I swore…
Again the fist with the pistol came up…”I ain’t arguing with you little girl…get me my works or it’s gonna get right fuckin ugly in here….”
“win the fight and lose the war” I thought to myself as I got Robert’s kit out of the drawer and stomped into the bedroom to toss them on the bed.
“Fine…yer on yer own” I barked…
“Not quite….I’m gonna need some help” was Robert’s reply
I argued for a bit…but in the end, Robert and his 45 were convincing…
I sat on the side of the bed closest to the table and opened the kit. I took out the belt and the glass syringe and laid them on the table top. I took out the spoon and I placed a hefty amount of the powder from the packet Robert handed me into the bowl of the spoon and very carefully added a couple of drops of water…I picked up the syringe and checked the point for barbs and then stirred the mixture in the spoon carefully...I set down the syringe and picked up Robert’s Zippo looking up to meet his eyes...
“You’ve done this before” Robert commented.
“yeah” I sighed and felt the sweat begin…my arm itched and my hands trembled just the tiniest bit…
This was the closest I’d been to a kit or powder since Michael had died and in a moment all that sadness and desperation came flooding back to me...
"what the fuck" I thought...
I remembered gladly the comfort in not feeling anything and I no longer knew if I had the strength to walk away.
Thursday, August 28, 2008
Chapter 77
the sound: AC/DC – Thunderstruck
By the time Robert got out of the hospital I’d been moved from Mrs. K’s house down the hill to Robert’s.
I’d spent a bunch of time fighting the move, and trying to convince just about anyone that I talked to that I wanted to go home…but all the men just smiled knowingly, and most of the women refused to look me in the eye. Those that did, did so with such a sadness that I really truly got more and more afraid all the time.
The day Robert got out of the hospital there was a huge production.
Robert, of course, wanted to ride…his mother would have no part of it…so Robert came home in the passenger seat of one of the Cadillacs. Rosie and Mrs. K rode in the back while I sat wedged between Robert and Grey.
Mrs K having made the arrangements for the “young lovebirds” to sit together and Robert didn’t fit in the back of the car.
We arrived out at the farm and ushered Robert into the bedroom, the one with the big 4 poster bed and the bathtub the size of a pond. Robert’s bedroom was the room that I’d made myself at home in from the beginning and now all I could think of is finding a way to get my little bit of gear gathered and getting out....out of the bedroom, out of the house, out of the country.
Mrs. K and I got Robert settled into bed and Mrs. K handed me a prescription bottle. I read the label. It was dilaudid for pain. He was to have them at scheduled intervals and Mrs. K was happy to tell me that “even should he rage at me…he was not allowed more than the prescribed amount.”
“Fat chance I’ve got of stopping him” I thought…but for once wisely kept my trap shut.
Mrs. K left advising everyone that “the fiancé” was in charge of Robert’s care and they should all leave the “lovebirds” alone. She smiled, in what I’m sure she believed to be a kindly manner, and left.
I walked back into the bedroom to find Robert with the pill bottle in his hand, open and shaking literally a handful of dilaudid into his palm.
“they ain’t gonna last long if you take em all now” I said.
“shaddup and get me Gus the Greek on the phone” came the reply.
I left the bedroom and went into the kitchen to find Rosie and find out how to reach one “Gus the Greek”.
Rosie’s face dropped “no…he wouldn’t” she said.
“he wouldn’t what?” I asked
“Gus is the go to guy for china white in this neck of the woods” she replied.
“heroin? He wants heroin?” just making myself clear.
“apparently…that he does” Rosie said as she dialed the phone and handed it to me…”apparently he wants to speak to Gus” and she shushed me out of the kitchen towards the bedroom.
Gus arrived a couple of hours later…by that time there was no one to be found anywhere on the property. Just Robert in his big bed, and me, perched on the ottoman in the livingroom desperately trying to figure out how I’d landed where I was...and how the hell I was gonna get out.
By the time Robert got out of the hospital I’d been moved from Mrs. K’s house down the hill to Robert’s.
I’d spent a bunch of time fighting the move, and trying to convince just about anyone that I talked to that I wanted to go home…but all the men just smiled knowingly, and most of the women refused to look me in the eye. Those that did, did so with such a sadness that I really truly got more and more afraid all the time.
The day Robert got out of the hospital there was a huge production.
Robert, of course, wanted to ride…his mother would have no part of it…so Robert came home in the passenger seat of one of the Cadillacs. Rosie and Mrs. K rode in the back while I sat wedged between Robert and Grey.
Mrs K having made the arrangements for the “young lovebirds” to sit together and Robert didn’t fit in the back of the car.
We arrived out at the farm and ushered Robert into the bedroom, the one with the big 4 poster bed and the bathtub the size of a pond. Robert’s bedroom was the room that I’d made myself at home in from the beginning and now all I could think of is finding a way to get my little bit of gear gathered and getting out....out of the bedroom, out of the house, out of the country.
Mrs. K and I got Robert settled into bed and Mrs. K handed me a prescription bottle. I read the label. It was dilaudid for pain. He was to have them at scheduled intervals and Mrs. K was happy to tell me that “even should he rage at me…he was not allowed more than the prescribed amount.”
“Fat chance I’ve got of stopping him” I thought…but for once wisely kept my trap shut.
Mrs. K left advising everyone that “the fiancé” was in charge of Robert’s care and they should all leave the “lovebirds” alone. She smiled, in what I’m sure she believed to be a kindly manner, and left.
I walked back into the bedroom to find Robert with the pill bottle in his hand, open and shaking literally a handful of dilaudid into his palm.
“they ain’t gonna last long if you take em all now” I said.
“shaddup and get me Gus the Greek on the phone” came the reply.
I left the bedroom and went into the kitchen to find Rosie and find out how to reach one “Gus the Greek”.
Rosie’s face dropped “no…he wouldn’t” she said.
“he wouldn’t what?” I asked
“Gus is the go to guy for china white in this neck of the woods” she replied.
“heroin? He wants heroin?” just making myself clear.
“apparently…that he does” Rosie said as she dialed the phone and handed it to me…”apparently he wants to speak to Gus” and she shushed me out of the kitchen towards the bedroom.
Gus arrived a couple of hours later…by that time there was no one to be found anywhere on the property. Just Robert in his big bed, and me, perched on the ottoman in the livingroom desperately trying to figure out how I’d landed where I was...and how the hell I was gonna get out.
Friday, August 22, 2008
alrighty then...
I've mentioned more times than I can count
the frustration I bear
over being a member of 3 siblings
2 of whom can't seem to step up
where their mother is concerned
I've also mentioned
that we almost lost my mother
to passive suicide
3 weeks ago
today she announces that
my bother has decided
to move his 17 yr old son
in with Grandma
while he goes to University
?????
said 17 yr old son
while a wonderful kid
and I love him to death
is spoiled on levels
I can't even begin to describe
and
she's not going to let him
pay part of the rent
or the food
I'm like
"what"?
"are you outta yer fucking mind?"
I think I feel a move to Guam
in my not too distant future.
so the bother
didn't get it together in time
to get his boy into housing for U
and as a matter of convenience
they'll move the kid in with the woman
that can't walk next door for groceries
but can make it the block to the liquor store
no problem....
or
can't make it to the bank on her own
or can't cook in her own home
or has no room in her home
cos she's like the old crazy lady
all her cupboards and closets
fulla stuff she can't make herself
throw away
and into this
they are moving a 6 ft 5in,
17 yr old
that sleeps till 3
eats enough to sink large battle ships
plays electric guitar
at warp factor 8
and then goes back to sleep
so I call the fadder
to vent
and I say...
"over the years
both the bother and the blister
have promised to step up to the plate
and as a result of them not doing so
I'm about 10 grand in the hole
and going stark raving mad"
and the fadder says
"I think you should keep an open mind"
????
my mind ain't closed
and neither are my eyes
dammit!
the frustration I bear
over being a member of 3 siblings
2 of whom can't seem to step up
where their mother is concerned
I've also mentioned
that we almost lost my mother
to passive suicide
3 weeks ago
today she announces that
my bother has decided
to move his 17 yr old son
in with Grandma
while he goes to University
?????
said 17 yr old son
while a wonderful kid
and I love him to death
is spoiled on levels
I can't even begin to describe
and
she's not going to let him
pay part of the rent
or the food
I'm like
"what"?
"are you outta yer fucking mind?"
I think I feel a move to Guam
in my not too distant future.
so the bother
didn't get it together in time
to get his boy into housing for U
and as a matter of convenience
they'll move the kid in with the woman
that can't walk next door for groceries
but can make it the block to the liquor store
no problem....
or
can't make it to the bank on her own
or can't cook in her own home
or has no room in her home
cos she's like the old crazy lady
all her cupboards and closets
fulla stuff she can't make herself
throw away
and into this
they are moving a 6 ft 5in,
17 yr old
that sleeps till 3
eats enough to sink large battle ships
plays electric guitar
at warp factor 8
and then goes back to sleep
so I call the fadder
to vent
and I say...
"over the years
both the bother and the blister
have promised to step up to the plate
and as a result of them not doing so
I'm about 10 grand in the hole
and going stark raving mad"
and the fadder says
"I think you should keep an open mind"
????
my mind ain't closed
and neither are my eyes
dammit!
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
kickin ass and taking names
I've been thinking…
it seems that the major thorn in the side of everyone over this holiday was me…
the very fact that I was even there seemed to be more than "he" could bear
he was civil….but obviously unable to be comfortable or friendly towards me... and although I have done nothing to him, he continues to treat me with open derision...he who professed to be my closest friend....now he's accusing others of "choosing to take my side over his wife's"…
not so
and yet another assumption has been made by one of them…for people who stress that they will no longer make assumptions...they are too busy assuming to simply ask...
I think I may be done and I think I may be leaving the club that became a club when we left the other club...because I will not be abused by people who said they were my friends...and can't understand the breadth of what they did to me...and are still doing to me...(and he has the nerve to talk about the people that stabbed him in the back? what is he....fucking 12?)
I am tired of feeling hurt....and I'm tired of trying to couch my words and gestures on the off chance that they might be taken in the wrong way by them because they are so fucking defensive...they can't even return friendly emails...apparently no matter what I say or do I'm gonna be wrong...so why fucking bother?
I gave "her" every opportunity to apologize to me face to face - something she only did via email once I asked her to via this blog...but again...they are above reproach
I gave her every opportunity to take me aside and talk to me about this...she chose not to...
I "allowed" her to talk to me and another of my friends like we were something that should be scrapped offa the bottom of her shoe when she decided to 'straighten us out about Idaho"…because I'm willing to admit that I may have been wrong in my "interpretation of the facts as listed" (funny that there were several others that had the same understanding tho)
and I even spent an uncomfortable afternoon as a captive audience in her car while we were in Idaho in an attempt to allow for smoothing things over...
not so much...
I have repeatedly gone outside of the bounds of my personal comfort levels in an attempt to "make it good for the all"...because a couple of friends asked me to...and because right from the beginning of this I have been focused on "saving" a friendship....
but it didn't work... apparently it was a mistake...I can only surmise that it didn't work because they don't believe that there was a wrongdoing...but I hate to surmise...so I will go by my gut....and my gut says that so far what I've seen is that the best defense is an offence on their part...so....
In the end….I've just suffered thru the worst holiday of my adult life...through no fault of my own...I think I'm finished feeling like shit and having my friends be treated poorly simply cos they are my friends
What I do know (yet again) is that I didn't do anything wrong...I'm tired of having to remind myself that I did nothing wrong...but I do because I am a people pleaser (it's a curse!)
I will say this....at no time have I asked anyone to take my side - you can bank on that....I simply told anyone who asked me the truth of what occurred...and actually I've requested that people make their judgements based on their own experiences with him and her…. not mine (try asking them if you have the balls - they'll set you straight)....but they are so busy making accusations they can't spend the time it takes to clearly communicate with the remainder of their friends...let alone me...
From what I can glean…him and her are upset that I let others know what she'd done...well gee...that's just too bad...shoulda thought of someone besides themselves in the first fucking place...
People can only hurt me this deeply when I open myself to them by loving them...I won't make that mistake again...my only solace now is that I am not alone in feeling like the wool has been pulled over my eyes....I am, apparently, in good company....
and while I'm making myself clear.....know this.....there isn't any chance in hell that I would have not called him and her to let them know about Bull's passing if I knew...I'd have moved heaven and hell to make sure they got you the news....not let us find out 24 hours later via some fucking text message....cos there's some kind of fucking pissing contest going on here...
IMHO that's just childish and vengeful...and I guess there's my proof
My Grandma used to say…"the thing about lying or being mean behind some one's back is that people will always talk and the truth will come out in the end" and she used to also say that "if you've done nothing wrong..there's no danger in speaking your mind"
so going forward...I am officially kicking ass and taking names…I'm through being shit on from lofty heights…and I’m through taking the high road…
him and her have made their bed…and now they can lie in it…with themselves…they've burnt their bridges....
their doing
not mine.....
they've made their choices…and now I'm making mine….do ya remember "Wyz choices"? http://wyzwmnsworld.blogspot.com/2007/07/wyz-choices.html
it still rings true....
it seems that the major thorn in the side of everyone over this holiday was me…
the very fact that I was even there seemed to be more than "he" could bear
he was civil….but obviously unable to be comfortable or friendly towards me... and although I have done nothing to him, he continues to treat me with open derision...he who professed to be my closest friend....now he's accusing others of "choosing to take my side over his wife's"…
not so
and yet another assumption has been made by one of them…for people who stress that they will no longer make assumptions...they are too busy assuming to simply ask...
I think I may be done and I think I may be leaving the club that became a club when we left the other club...because I will not be abused by people who said they were my friends...and can't understand the breadth of what they did to me...and are still doing to me...(and he has the nerve to talk about the people that stabbed him in the back? what is he....fucking 12?)
I am tired of feeling hurt....and I'm tired of trying to couch my words and gestures on the off chance that they might be taken in the wrong way by them because they are so fucking defensive...they can't even return friendly emails...apparently no matter what I say or do I'm gonna be wrong...so why fucking bother?
I gave "her" every opportunity to apologize to me face to face - something she only did via email once I asked her to via this blog...but again...they are above reproach
I gave her every opportunity to take me aside and talk to me about this...she chose not to...
I "allowed" her to talk to me and another of my friends like we were something that should be scrapped offa the bottom of her shoe when she decided to 'straighten us out about Idaho"…because I'm willing to admit that I may have been wrong in my "interpretation of the facts as listed" (funny that there were several others that had the same understanding tho)
and I even spent an uncomfortable afternoon as a captive audience in her car while we were in Idaho in an attempt to allow for smoothing things over...
not so much...
I have repeatedly gone outside of the bounds of my personal comfort levels in an attempt to "make it good for the all"...because a couple of friends asked me to...and because right from the beginning of this I have been focused on "saving" a friendship....
but it didn't work... apparently it was a mistake...I can only surmise that it didn't work because they don't believe that there was a wrongdoing...but I hate to surmise...so I will go by my gut....and my gut says that so far what I've seen is that the best defense is an offence on their part...so....
In the end….I've just suffered thru the worst holiday of my adult life...through no fault of my own...I think I'm finished feeling like shit and having my friends be treated poorly simply cos they are my friends
What I do know (yet again) is that I didn't do anything wrong...I'm tired of having to remind myself that I did nothing wrong...but I do because I am a people pleaser (it's a curse!)
I will say this....at no time have I asked anyone to take my side - you can bank on that....I simply told anyone who asked me the truth of what occurred...and actually I've requested that people make their judgements based on their own experiences with him and her…. not mine (try asking them if you have the balls - they'll set you straight)....but they are so busy making accusations they can't spend the time it takes to clearly communicate with the remainder of their friends...let alone me...
From what I can glean…him and her are upset that I let others know what she'd done...well gee...that's just too bad...shoulda thought of someone besides themselves in the first fucking place...
People can only hurt me this deeply when I open myself to them by loving them...I won't make that mistake again...my only solace now is that I am not alone in feeling like the wool has been pulled over my eyes....I am, apparently, in good company....
and while I'm making myself clear.....know this.....there isn't any chance in hell that I would have not called him and her to let them know about Bull's passing if I knew...I'd have moved heaven and hell to make sure they got you the news....not let us find out 24 hours later via some fucking text message....cos there's some kind of fucking pissing contest going on here...
IMHO that's just childish and vengeful...and I guess there's my proof
My Grandma used to say…"the thing about lying or being mean behind some one's back is that people will always talk and the truth will come out in the end" and she used to also say that "if you've done nothing wrong..there's no danger in speaking your mind"
so going forward...I am officially kicking ass and taking names…I'm through being shit on from lofty heights…and I’m through taking the high road…
him and her have made their bed…and now they can lie in it…with themselves…they've burnt their bridges....
their doing
not mine.....
they've made their choices…and now I'm making mine….do ya remember "Wyz choices"? http://wyzwmnsworld.blogspot.com/2007/07/wyz-choices.html
it still rings true....
Monday, August 18, 2008
Chapter 76
the sound: Help – the Beatles
I began planning my “clean getaway” immediately upon leaving the hospital that evening….(again…little did I know).
My first course of action was to enlist the assistance of Boomer. Boomer the not so bright ne’r do well that had the brilliant idea of bringing me to the TriCities in the first place.
“Boomer….man….I need a ride”
“where ya goin Baby?”
“home”
“er….uhmmmm…how about a beer? Smoke a spliff…coupla lines maybe?”
“No buzzard breath…home! Canada…across the border…top o the 48…remember????” exasperation creeping in.
“Baby…I can’t take you anywhere that remotely resembles outta state”
“remotely resembles? Who the hell are you and what the fuck did ya do with Boomer the Boozehund?”
“oh Baby…I’m still yer favorite Boozehund….but Mrs. K says yer gonna be moving here for good so I’ve already made arrangements with Al n Suzie to pack up yer place”
“pack up my place? PACK UP MY PLACE? Are you outta yer muthafuckin mind man????I live in Canada! And.I.am.goin.home.now! Home to my studio…home to my hotel and home tomy fucking bar!!!!!!!!” I screamed.
“ya shoulda said something sooner Baby…it’s too late…” Boomer replied…
“What the hell do you mean…it’s too late? It’s never too late Boomer…we’re Canadian citizens…we can go home when ever the hell we want!”
“I wish it was that easy Baby….here…have a beer….”
I grabbed the beer outta his hand and then promptly threw it at him, missing him by a country mile and smashing the bottle against the door of the garage.
“I am not staying Boomer! You mark my words!”
“We’ll see” came the reply.
I slumped down the garage door and hung my head….weems that the trip home wasn’t going to be as easy as I’d first surmised….but I’d find a way…I was sure of it!.
I began planning my “clean getaway” immediately upon leaving the hospital that evening….(again…little did I know).
My first course of action was to enlist the assistance of Boomer. Boomer the not so bright ne’r do well that had the brilliant idea of bringing me to the TriCities in the first place.
“Boomer….man….I need a ride”
“where ya goin Baby?”
“home”
“er….uhmmmm…how about a beer? Smoke a spliff…coupla lines maybe?”
“No buzzard breath…home! Canada…across the border…top o the 48…remember????” exasperation creeping in.
“Baby…I can’t take you anywhere that remotely resembles outta state”
“remotely resembles? Who the hell are you and what the fuck did ya do with Boomer the Boozehund?”
“oh Baby…I’m still yer favorite Boozehund….but Mrs. K says yer gonna be moving here for good so I’ve already made arrangements with Al n Suzie to pack up yer place”
“pack up my place? PACK UP MY PLACE? Are you outta yer muthafuckin mind man????I live in Canada! And.I.am.goin.home.now! Home to my studio…home to my hotel and home tomy fucking bar!!!!!!!!” I screamed.
“ya shoulda said something sooner Baby…it’s too late…” Boomer replied…
“What the hell do you mean…it’s too late? It’s never too late Boomer…we’re Canadian citizens…we can go home when ever the hell we want!”
“I wish it was that easy Baby….here…have a beer….”
I grabbed the beer outta his hand and then promptly threw it at him, missing him by a country mile and smashing the bottle against the door of the garage.
“I am not staying Boomer! You mark my words!”
“We’ll see” came the reply.
I slumped down the garage door and hung my head….weems that the trip home wasn’t going to be as easy as I’d first surmised….but I’d find a way…I was sure of it!.
Friday, August 15, 2008
Bull
A couple of years ago I was headed to the Port Alberni Toy Run and blew the motor in my antique trike (aka the Pickle) in Nanaimo…the friend that was riding with me later told me that she’d never heard anyone use the “f” word that many times in one sentence…To say that I was less than impressed with the kid that worked at the gas station by my home because I’d asked him to check the oil and he’d told me that he had and that it was fine…would be an understatement…Bull later told me that almost the only way to blow a hole in a VW motor the way I had was to have no oil in it...but I digress...
I arrived at the Toy Run in a van and it kinda cramped my style for the event…(quiet, demure and subtle woman that I am….)
My buddy 3Wheel (Bryan) suggested that I contact Bull as he “worked on VW’s in the past”….I did so and Bull kinda laughed and then suggested that he could get me a used motor out of a VW dune buggy…
I had the Pickle dragged there from 3Wheel’s place and Bull began the Pickle reparations.
Working on an antique trike does have a few foibles...for instance…you have to take the whole body off to get at the motor…
As it was winter and I’m whiny about riding in the rain I wasn’t in a great rush to have the Pickle back…and as Bull wasn’t charging me for the work I’d just call every now and then and get an update from the great hulking giggler.
Spring was just around the corner when Bull suggested I come up and pick up the Pickle…I did so…and was tickled to death to see her sitting in the driveway…we talked a while…Bull gave me the gears about “checking the oil regularly” and she started up first try…I waved goodbye made it about 3 feet down the driveway when she started to smoke!
Bull came running up and pulled a bunch of wires out to get it to stop…
Nothing stinks worse than old burnt wires…except maybe hair…and I think Bull lost some that day…
Next visit to Bull and Jenn’s house was to see my trike hanging from the roof in the garage…and Bull’s great hulking body crammed underneath it on his office chair….laughing, giggling and pulling wires….there may have been a little Fireball involved…but that may also have been my imagination….
I eventually got my trike back with new wiring too…and Bull made a small presentation to me of an oil rag in a zip lock bag “just in case”…and he bobbed a bit as he laughed…and then waved me down the road…I got as far as the turn off to the highway before we realized that the screws in the new fender were rubbing on the tire and creating that burnt rubber stink again…Bull pulled up in the van and whipped the fender off till I could get better bolts….
That was Bull…always up for a rescue, always up for a laugh, always up for helping his friends…He developed an wonderful connection with Kaylee his step daughter…and that in itself was enough to make me respect he man…He was a good man, with a great big heart and a laugh I could pick out of a crowd…he was a good friend to me and many more.
Here’s what I think…Bull wouldn’t want us to be sad…he wouldn’t want us to cry and he wouldn’t want us to mourn…He’d want us to put on the brightest ugliest shirts we could find…and to laugh about what a great fashion maven he was.
That would have been Bull…takin life by the horns…and laughing at me for making my own face leak yet again!
R.I.P.
"Bull"
James Francis Jones
Friend
Saturday, August 02, 2008
a rather inauspicious start
I'm leaving in half an hour
on holidays
but I've not had any sleep
cos I've had a puky tummy all night
so I'll just go as far as I get
and get a motel room
I am
after all
on holidays!
see ya around the 19th!
on holidays
but I've not had any sleep
cos I've had a puky tummy all night
so I'll just go as far as I get
and get a motel room
I am
after all
on holidays!
see ya around the 19th!
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