Little Bits and Pieces are what I’m throwing into this post in order to get caught up. Little bits and pieces are also what happens to your car when you drive across Mesa’s Bermuda Triangle.

After my last post, I got a message back from a country commissioner that those tracks were not in the county’s jurisdiction and therefore not their responsibility. I also got a call from Matt the county road engineer that basically said the same thing. Isn’t it interesting how governmentors are much more adept at dodging the responsibility than solving the problem? Even when solving the problem is easier than doing all the dodging?

I look at this tendency as a sort of virus that you catch as soon as you go to work for The Man.

Matt also mentioned that he would have no problem posting some SLOW DOWN FOR TRACKS signs even though it wasn’t their prob. That’s all I’ve ever asked for. Why don’t they just do it instead of prolonging the agony and danger?

A few months ago one of my next-door neighbors named Tom got a brand new Tundra pickup. I was kind of surprised since his “old” Tundra seemed to be in fine shape. I figured he must have just wanted to upgrade and must have had a bunch of extra cash since that is always required whenever you upgrade.

Yesterday, he and I were talking and it came out that the reason he is driving a new Tundra is his “old” Tundra got totaled. Guess where? Yep, the Sheffield Road/Mesa railroad tracks.

Oh, the untold damage and pain that relatively small but deadly speed bump has inflicted!

Here’s what happens when innocent citizens turn onto Sheffield and head for Basin City: They kick their vehicle up to 30 miles an hour in hopes of reaching the posted limit of 55 miles an hour. Just before they reach the 55 mph sign, they get the surprise of their life.

And it is an ugly surprise.

Cops don’t get called because people can usually drive their bent and destroyed rigs home. The county doesn’t get complaints because the insurance company usually foots the bill. The owner of the wrecked vehicle figures it’s all his fault because he was driving and was stupid for going over the tracks at 20 or 30 miles an hour instead of 5.

My recommendation is y’all c’all the Franklin County Road Department at 509 545 3514. Ask for Matt. Matt is a nice guy but needs a little pressure from the tax payers. Ask him to post warning signs on both sides of the tracks on Sheffield. This little act of yours will save innocent individuals thousands of dollars on their auto deductible and thousands more as they will eventually have to buy a new car.

It will add years to their life that otherwise would be swallowed up in PTSDam, otherwise known as Post Track Sure Demolition at mesa. PTSDam will continue to run rampant until you call. It is also the word most people use after they hit the tracks.

Just before we had the nasty incident in Mesa, we were on a family reunion with our kids and their kids in Idaho. My son-in-law Todd, who was driving our van when it crashed on the tracks, thinks he’s the Candy Man. In fact, whenever he signs a check or a ticket for going over the railroad tracks too fast, he signs it The Candy Man. 

A few reunion highlights:

1st scene. Youngest grandchild wets his lips before going after the Candy Man.

2nd scene. The Candy Man

3rd scene. Oldest grand daughter got more candy than any of her cousins but was empty-handed when the contest ended. How’d she do that?

 

Another little bit for the blog:

Middle of the summer. Over 100 degrees. A WA DOT snowplow in my rear view mirror is out looking for a road to plow. Maybe he should head for Mesa and use that plow on the railroad tracks.

Another little bit for the blog:

Per my visiting mid-daughter’s instruction, I cranked the hot tub up. There was a bunch of nasty flakes in the water. Within a minute or two, the flakes had completely coated the filter. I cleaned it out and got the same result again.

I borrowed a woman’s nylon hose from my wife, pulled it over the filter and it worked like a champ! In one rinse, all the particles and flakes were gone. This hot tub filter will never be used again without my wife’s nylon stocking.

Another little bit for the blog:

After making a deal with my son at Christmastime that I could get down to 200 lbs., I started riding my bike to work. Dogs chased me every time I went past a certain house. So I finally carried a large iron rod with me toward the point of attack.

The canines arrived at the normal point of attack and as usual, started nipping at my heels. I swung the rod, missed the closest dog, lost my normally excellent bike-balance skills and went down hard. The asphalt was unforgiving. Luckily, the wind was blowing away from me so the dogs didn’t pick up the scent of blood.

But next time I’ve got a surprise for them.

To make a long story short on the weight, Mike moved up the date of my weigh-in so I had to lose pounds fast.

I lost 24 lbs in 6 days. I did the Mixed Martial Arts diet and drank 2 gallons of water the first day. Then I tapered off dramatically. The last two days I went without food or drink. (This had the added benefit of less blood spilt in case of dog attacks.) I made it to 200 just before we headed for the airport on our way to my son and Phoenix.

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Just to make sure, at the airport in Pasco when no one was looking, I hopped on Allegiant’s baggage scale. It weighed me at 207. I got a little concerned because if I didn’t hit the 200 lb criteria at PHX, I would be out $500. I walked down to the Delta counter and hopped up on their scale. It weighed me in at 193.

The last weigh-in made me feel a little better about my weight. It also made me wonder how much Allegiant makes from their faulty scales and the extra baggage charges they assess.

We got on the plane. I was borderline delirious from no nourishment. Allegiant had my wife and I sitting apart, hoping we would pay another bundle so we could sit together.

My wife is not a fan of my storytelling. I was bugged all the way to Phoenix because she was so enthralled by the stories of the guy she was sitting by. Check out her reaction! Never once have I gotten the kind of feedback this guy enjoyed all the way down.

And just by chance, the young man sitting next to the storyteller is the grandson of Ken Benson, a friend of my family from 1958 on. Ken was about the only neighbor we had during the first few years of my childhood growing up in the Basin.

Made it to Phoenix and was finally able to eat and drink. I’m sure by the time I walked out of this establishment, I was back up to 210, at least by Allegiant’s calculation.

The actual reason we went to Phoenix was for another grandchild’s baptism.

This is how my doggone knuckles looked in Phoenix:

But I’ve solved that problem. I decided to get some mosquito spray. But then I figured it might not cut the mustard.

So I thought about some pepper spray but then again was not quite sure of it’s potency.

So this is what I ended up with…

 

I can’t wait to get back on my bike.

Those dogs are toast.