Redneck: You Always Knew I Was

A joyous Christakwanzukkah to all. I hope everyone out there in etherland managed to spend time with family and/or friends, gain a few pounds, drink a little too much, and get away from the grind for a little while. I did about that, though my trip was a slightly complicated one as I shall recount here.

In Which Jamie Proves Conclusively You Can Take The Redneck Out Of Maine, But You Can't Take The Redneck Out Of The Mainer

Part of my trip last week involved getting back to DC with the 1980 Chevy Scottsdale pickup truck I kinda inherited from my late step grandfather. That is to say, while he didn't leave it to me, nobody else wanted it so I decided to add a third vehicle to my stable. What the hell I plan to do with it, I couldn't possibly say, but a 28-year old full-size pickup truck with a cap, and a mere 45,000 original miles on the odometer was just too good to pass up.

At left, a simulated image of my truck since I forgot to take a picture. But it looks strikingly like this one - brown, with a camper cap - but believe it or not, mine's in nearly mint condition.

A few weeks ago I had had the thing towed to a mechanic since I was told the brakes didn't work. $280 later, I had a new master cylinder. I spent a few more bucks having them give it a once-over and basic tune-up since I planned to drive the beast about 800 miles by the time I was back in DC. On Christmas Day my mother drove me the 80 miles from Boston to Stafford Springs, CT where I found the truck with keys under the floormat as promised by the very gracious folks at Monson Road Garage and I was on my way.

Can I tell you how unbelievably awesome this truck is? It's got the small block Chevy V8 - I'm guessing the 305 vs. the 350 since it doesn't seem especially overpowered. Which is probably a good thing, since I got awesome fuel economy, averaging 14 miles per gallon on my trip. You think that sucks, huh? Compare that to a brand-new 2009 Chevy Silverado, about the equivalent vehicle nearly 30 years later. Fuel economy for this marvel of modern engine design? 15 city/20 highway. Nearly three decades later, that's the best they could do, apparently. And the review I linked to lists fuel economy as a "pro", saying "good fuel economy for a full-sized truck!!" Pretty sad state of affairs if you ask me. I'll take the ever-reliable 305 with a caruberettor, thank you very much.

Anyway, moving on... while it's just a regular cab, I easily fit four adults across in the bench seat (another simulated image, right). That rocks. I could probably fit at least 12 day laborers in the back, too. On the down side, it does take up about half of my back yard, and parallel parking is a bitch. But it's the price we pay for hugeness.

The Journey

So, there were several goals for this absurd hayride to hell. I had to get to my sister's house in Boston on common carrier transportation so I could drive back. That meant flying out of National since I wouldn't be driving to the airport. I managed to get a flight less than a week before Christmas for 200 bucks, not bad, though it did invovle a layover at JFK. Three hours. Which is just as well since my first flight was delayed almost two hours.

This might have been my first time at JFK, and I have to say, I'm a pretty seasoned traveler, but that airport is designed specifically to baffle tourists. I'm fairly fluent in English and I still found myself staring at walls, signs, and arrows frequently trying to figure out where the hell I should be going. My odd flight was on two different airlines, so I had to go between terminals. Fair enough. Except there were absolutely zero signs in my landing terminal (Terminal 1) that gave any indication that there were even other terminals, much less how to get there. Finally I asked a nice man which way out of the twilight zone, and he directed me to a tiny passageway in a corner with no sign that even said "exit" which would apparently take me to the "Airtrain."

Once at the "airtrain," I marveled at this gem in the elevator to the platform. The sign outside had said "Airtrain, Level 2." Once in the elevator, I was confronted with this completely inexplicable set of button labels. As a non-blind person, I was able to correctly deduce that I should be pushing the center button to get to the "airtrain." But seriously. What the hell? Was the elevator installer smoking crack?

Once on the train, though, it was pretty cool, it felt very futuristic and monorailish as we swooshed around the airport high above the mayhem. Though the blinking red sign that kept saying something like "Pay Fare At Jamaica" was a little disconcerting. Luckily I saw the stop for my terminal before I ended up in Jamaica and made it to my next plane on time. Once in Boston, I met my brother and we enjoyed another hour on three different lines of the Boston "T," always a good time.

I had a lovely evening and day with my sister's family, including the three nephews who were remarkably well behaved on this visit. My sister's in the middle of expanding their Cape Cod-style house so I got to check out the work in progress. I still enjoy walking around unfinished construction sites, and I was intrigued by some of the modern techniques they were using for plumbing and wiring. I admit I am slightly skeptical of plastic plumbing, and as long as I'm not paying for labor there's no way I won't drop the extra bucks for copper in my own house, but it sure looked a lot easier to install than copper. I know it's becoming pretty common in new construction, I'm just a bit of a luddite... with a tendency towards overbuilding.

In Which We Place Absolute Faith In 28 Year Old Machines

Come Friday morning, the marathon begins. I departed boston at 6 AM in predawn darkness. The beast fired up right away despite the 16 degree temperature. Being scraper-less I had to let the frost melt off the windshield before I could go, but soon I was rolling along happily. My first stop was Maine. Another important factor in this mission was acquiring furniture and some vintage tools I'd also gotten from my grandfather's estate but hadn't been able to get back to Washington until I was up north in a car. So I hightailed it up there, and was on the way back south again about 3 hours later. I stopped off in Portland on the way back to say hello to Johnny Bigtime and his brood, then again in Boston to pick up an air conditioner my sister was donating to my cause (and I'd forgotten to get before). Then, it was on to DC.

My journey took me through West Cornwall, Connecticut, where I stopped over again to visit Aislinn. I had originally planned on spending the night with her family and finishing the trip in the morning. By the time I got there, it was 4:30 PM so I'd already been on the road for over ten hours, though with a few stops. But the weather report was ominous for the late night and morning: freezing rain, snow, sleet, brimstone, you name it. Now, while I'd already developed a strong trusting bond with the truck, I wasn't sure I trusted the rather crusty looking tires, and the vintage windshield cleaning system that did not involve a sprayer or an intermittent setting.

So, with great resolve I said goodbye and departed again around 7:30. There was a light rain for part of the trip, which was very annoying to say the least without an intermittent setting. The rest was kind of a blur. I learned a few thing, though.

1) When you are barreling down the road in a giant pickup truck, people get the hell out of your way.

2) Speedometer is off by 7 mph at 70. That is, I'm really going 77. After I kept blowing by people when I though I was doing only 70 or so (in a 65) I did a reality check using the GPS. Probably lucky I didn't get pulled over since I was doing what I thought was 70-75 most of the way.

3) Thank god gas was generally $1.50 a gallon

4) Factory 1980 radio (with two knobs and five buttons) sounds like ass, but creates perfect retro environment for reliving a simpler time.

5) It costs $6.35 to take the Jersey Turnpike from Exit 15 (GW Bridge) to Exit 7 (Route 295). WTF??? It was 2 bucks last time I did the drive!! At first I thought the toll attendant was messing with me. Maybe she thought my truck had three axles or something. But apparently, they had just raised the prices. Welcome to Recession '08, suckers!

I finally arrived in DC at 12:30 AM. It was a hell of a long trip but worth it. I will post actual pictures of The Beast soon. And I will be accepting offers, opening bid will be $3,000. You laugh, huh? Check this out!

OK, never mind, I want to play with my totally impractical new old toy for a while... but I will definitely be accepting ideas about what to do with this behemoth. Late night conversation has already gone to Inauguration Day Float. Be very afraid....

Jazz Fest 2008 Part 2

Some more pictures from the weekend. The highlight of the fairgrounds music was Leo Nocentelli's Rare Funk Gathering, with Doug Wimbish and Will Calhoun of Living Color. Doug Wimbish apparently replaced Victor Wooten Muzz Skillings as their bass player. Will Calhoun was the drummer from day 1. I haven't seen Living Colour in years but they were always a great band back in the day... should probably check them out again. Doug certainly proved himself on the stage with Leo.

Anticipate home improvement posts soon. I've finally gotten my new windows and after putting them in I can finally proceed with the finish work in the kitchen. Once that's done I'll be moving outdoors and hopefully get my backyard fenced in this summer. Anyone want to come help me dig holes...




Doug Wimbish. Nice shout out to DC with the 9:30 club tee shirt





Leo Nocentelli






Will Calhoun

Jazz Fest '08 Part 1

It's been a long time since I posted. Don't worry - I survived New Orleans. Why is it so hard to go away, even for a few days, without creating a backlog of work and life? On the plus side, it seems to still be winter here in DC so at least I haven't been missing much while working late this week.

The weekend was a lot of fun, as always. Those moments where you find yourself hanging out at a bar with a pirate at 3 AM who's telling you about his failed marriage and how much his therapist has helped him are really what make New Orleans so special. Did I mention he was a pirate?

Anyway. I still have a lot of pictures to go through but I put some up on flickr today. Here are a few that I like, in no particular order. I'll tell stories here when I have a bit more time, so for now, enjoy these images from the swamp. You can see all my pics (so far) in my Jazz Fest '08 set.

Whistler

Nothing much to say this week as I am in British Columbia until Saturday. Skiing at Whistler. This place is out of control. I will say no more as a picture says it all. It's going to be hard to go skiing on the east coast ever again...

Dulles: Still the worst

There are lots of reasons to hate Dulles Airport. The "mobile lounges," the impossibility of getting there in less than 2 hours on a weekday evening, the awful security lines. Let's discuss that last one for a few minutes.

I had an 8:30 AM flight to Portland, Maine on Friday. I checked in at exactly 7:35 AM. I have the boarding pass to prove it. Yet I missed my plane. It wasn't even close, actually, I didn't get to the gate until about 8:40. The hen had flown the coop probably 20 minutes earlier.

It all began well enough. It was a gorgeous morning, so much so that I was briefly moved by the striking image of the main terminal against the rising sun, as you see in this picture I took on my way in. It was going to be a good day. I would land in Portland around 10, take a cab downtown, and spend a leisurely day shopping, catching up on some work in a coffee shop, whatever. I had the whole day.

So when I entered the massive security line a full hour before my departure time, I wasn't concerned. A stressed-out young lady was rushing through the line. Her plane left at 8, could she go ahead? Sure, why not! I had plenty of time. After a few minutes, a TSA agent opened up one of the corral gates and barked at us to move to a different line. This is when things started to go bad. We dutifully followed her orders and moved to a different part of the mass. After we stopped again, the guy in front of me looked at each other. Wait a minute. This line's longer! WTF? Well, still, I had plenty of time.

A few minutes later, the same thing happened. Another TSA agent opened a gate, and shuffled us off to yet another line. Once again, it was obviously longer. It was actually becoming a bit of a joke. I chuckled, but was thinking, if I didn't have 45 minutes until my plane left, this would probably be a lot less funny.

We were shuffled off a third time by a third agent. This time the target line wasn't that long. OK, maybe this will work out somehow. Unfortunately, TSA lines, like the supermarket, can be long and fast, or short and slow. The line we finally landed in was manned by the only TSA agent I've ever seen who takes his job seriously. And by seriously, I mean, if everyone scrutinized you the way this guy did, air travel would grind to a halt entirely. He spend easily a minute looking at every drivers' license and passport. He sent at least half of the people to dare to cross his gate to the "extra screening" line.

I was no exception. I handed him my DC driver's license. He pulled out the ultraviolet light, and the diamond inspection glass to verify that my identification met his uncompromising criteria. He analyzed. He squinted. He called his assistant over to take a look. After several agonizing minutes of this, he announced that my DC driver's license was not adequate identification.

Him: "There is a problem with your driver's license. Do you have another form of identification?"

Me: "Umm.. like what? There's a picture on my Costco card, will that do?"

Him: "Do you have a passport?"

Me: "Yes. It's at home. Do you normally carry your passport when flying domestically?"

Him: "How about a work ID?"

Me: "I work for a private company. We don't have IDs. Why on earth would I ever need more than my driver's license?"

Him: "Your license is missing a security code. I can't verify that it's authentic. You'll have to go for extra screening."

The reality was starting to set in. I might actually miss my plane. I was escorted to yet another line. At Dulles, apparently, they have a special line for people who've been selected, that moves even more slowly than the other lines. Every other time I've been selected, they just pull you aside and do the extra screening right there. Apparently, the Dulles folks thought it would be very customer-service oriented to make those unfortunate enough to go through the extra screening, have to wait another 15 minutes for that privilege of having to take longer to get through security.

At last I got to the front of the special screening line. Now, the real fun begins. Over the next 15 minutes, I was asked at least a half-dozen times by numerous TSA drones why I was there. -What's the problem? (Something's wrong with my driver's license). -Is it expired? (Did you even look at it? No it's not expired.) -Do you have another ID? (Sigh. No, I wouldn't be here if I did). -Where's your boarding pass? (One of your mates has it, I have no idea).

At one point, in sheer frustration, I asked the current Driver's License Inspector if it would be easier if I just pretended I had lost it. I have actually flown without ID before. All that happens is they automatically select you and do the baggage search. But I was getting some kind of extra special treatment reserved, apparently, for those suspected of possessing a fabricated DC driver's license. Anyway, that suggestion was not met with much enthusiasm.

I finally got through the line about 5 minutes before my plane was to depart. Given that I still had at least 10 minutes of strange travel involving the mobile lounge and dashing to the A1 terminal, which, conveniently, is the most distant from the "mobile lounge dock." I knew, at this point, I would not make it, but I went to the gate anyway on the off chance the plane had been delayed. It was not.

An hour later, I was rebooked on a U.S. Airways flight. Out of National airport. Since they would not change my return, I had to leave my car at Dulles, so I took the bus, then the metro to National. I checked in, and laughed out loud when I saw the "SSSS" pre-printed on my boarding pass. I had been randomly selected at National.

Anyway, at National things were far more civilized. The line moved fast, nobody gave my license a second look, and the extra screening added no more than 60 seconds to the process. Landing in Portland 5 hours later than I had planned to, my leisurely day killed by Dulles security, I was at least rewarded with this incredible sight of the snowy Maine coast.

NYC

Went to NYC the weekend of December 15th. The weather was shite, basically 34 and sleeting with 40 mph gusts. But it made for some very cool scenery. Below is the Empire State Building on the Sunday morning the 16th.

Click the image to enlarge.

Weekend getaway

I went to Maine over the weekend for the 2nd annual running of the Beach to Beacon 10K by myself, John & Tony. This race is in it's 10th year and is probably Maine's biggest running event and also a nationally recognized race that attracts elite runners. The race course is very cool, if hilly, winding through Cape Elizabeth and finishing on the waterfront near Portland Head Light. Which, conveniently, is about a mile from John and Leigh Ann's home. And it's an excuse to come to Maine in August, when the weather in DC is atrocious, and hang with good friends. Best of all, the beer drinking and fried seafood eating is fully justified by the 10K.

This year was not my finest performance (you can look up the results at that link), but no matter... the race was fun, and the rest of the day was amazing. Perfect weather for taking John's '69 Pontiac Bonneville convertible to the beach. I can't think of anything that would have made for a more perfect day.