No Luck Truck

About a month ago the little blue Metro finally gave up the ghost and lost it's engine. Scott and Benjamin weren't having much luck finding a replacement so Scott asked if he could buy back the Prism that he sold to us aout a year ago. It sounded like a fine idea to me when he offered $900 which was exactly what we owed the mean tax collector. The boys (Pete and Dan) had been bantering about the idea of getting a small pickup anyway and Bekah is still too scared to drive much anyway. It seems at least once a month a pickup would be rather handy to have around. So I made a call to our credit union in Utah and refinanced the Lexus again (I did that last year to buy the Prism and pay our taxes). 2,000 smackeroonies were soon deposited into our account and we began the search. Craig's List is a wonderful thing so in no time at all we had a number of prospects to check out. Dan had a job interview at the CSC computer warehouse where Aaron and Josh worked out by the Raytheon plant, so we checked out a truck after the interview. He got the job but the pickup was not so good. A couple of days later on April 1st (April Fools?) I had Dan and $2000 cash with me to go check out a 1994 Nissan extended-cab semi-beauty. The guy who had it on Craig's List had lowered the price from $2750 to $2700, to $2350 and now had it at $2150 so I thought I could get it for 18 or 1900 dollars.
The guy had a small garage where he fixes up cars and resells them. Pete met us there and both he and Dan drove the truck. It ran like a little champ so I offered him $1800 he said he had someone coming with $2050 the next day and wouldn't budge so I had Dan go get $50 from the ATM so I could pay the little man. Pete said the idle was a bit low so while Dan was gone, the little Asian Man (he said his name was Man) adjusted the idle. Man got the title and I traded him $2060 for it (the ATM only spit out twenties). Mr Man only had $7 so I wound up paying $2053 for the pickup. It still had the plates from the previous owner on it and the title had been signed and notarized May 21, 2008 with the buyers section still blank. It is a fairly common practice for dealers to wait to sign the buyers section in case they sell the vehicle in a few days. Woo hoo! I am now the proud owner of a TRUCK!
I didn't like the idea of driving with someone else's plates so that night I paid a dollar to get a three-day permit from servicearizona.com to use until I got the new title and plates the next day which was Thursday. We drove the truck around a bit and took it out to our place on Saturday to plink at bunch of water-filled medicine bottles (they explode so coolly!). The road to the place is all narrow, dirt, and bumpy so it was nice to see how the pickup handled it.
The next Monday Dan took it to Ben's property to bring him some plywood and move some sand. No problem. At around 8:30 that night I get a call from Dan. Big problem. The truck had quit just as he turned onto Kolb Road from I-10. I grabbed some tools, flashlights, and such and went to rescue him and the pickup. The battery was pretty much so I had to face Babs' car in the wrong direction to try a jump-start. It didn't. Just then some nice policemen came and offered to push the truck down to the U of A Technology Park access road and off of Kolb. One blocked the lane we were in while the other used his car to push Dan to safety. Nice guys.
The battery was old and decrepit like me so we took it out and off to the overnight Autozone to see if it was salvageable. It was not. With a new battery and two gallons of gas in tow (just in case the gas gage was wrong) we went back to the ailing truck and gave it a drink and a new source of electricity. It started but made a horrendous noise when it did so I had Dan immediately shut it down and called Babs to get the number for a tow truck. It was 12:30 AM at this time. In a fit of complete stupidity, I told Dan to go home and I would wait for the tow truck and call him when I got the pickup to Aaron's father-in-law's gas station.
I had brain-farted the fact that I had worked a twelve-hour day BEFORE Dan called about the pickup. How long could it take for a tow truck to show up anyway? Half-an-hour? Forty-five minutes? Maybe and hour at the most? It came at 2:45. Eighty dollars and an hour later Dan picked me up at the station and took me home.
Pete was the first to contact Mr. Man and explain to him the Arizona Lemon Law which is that if a dealer sells you a vehicle and said vehicle has a major mechanical problem within 15 days or 500 miles, said dealer must repair said vehicle with a maximum charge to you of $50, or return the purchase price in exchange for said vehicle (we had had said vehicle for 5 days and 147 miles). Mr. Man would have none of that saying he was a private party and NOT a dealer and would not give Pete his last name nor return any more calls.
I called him the next day and instead of leaving a message, I paged him to the home phone. When he called back, I rationally explained to him that the law is on my side and, even though I don't want to do it, I would contact the Attorney General of Arizona and or whomever else I need to to get satisfaction. "You broke truck! You no wanna pay! You overload truck! I call Attorney General too!" was all he kept yelling. I kept telling him to calm down, that there was nothing to yell about but I would need his last name so I could get paperwork to him...silence. "I need your last name so I can get documents to you."...click.
To make a long story less long, we got his name and address and have had a lawyer sign a letter requesting him to contact us about repairing the truck or returning the purchase price or we will contact the Attorney General, Motor Vehicle Dept, 9 on Your Side, Vinnie & Guido, or all of the above. We sent the letter by certified mail and are waiting for his response. My ball is now in his court...

Clueless in Tucson

It's been way too long since I've written anything here but I couldn't let this weekend pass without thanking my devious wife, children/children-in-law, sister, Mia, and anyone else who had a hand in it, for my birthday party/present. You'd think after living withe the woman for over 38 years I'd catch on to some of her deviousness, but NO! I had absolutely no inkling that there was anything afoot. It was not unlike ten years ago when I thought everyone was all caught up in Melissa and Joshua's wedding and not caring one little bit about poor me and my 50th birthday when, WHANG! We come home to find my old TV in a coffin in our carport and SURPRISE! Everybody in the living room saying Happy Birthday here's your new TV and entertainment center.

This time I was all bummed out because Babs had been gone the week before, having fun with the kids in Alabama/Tennessee and wouldn't even broach the subject of me coming along. She'd moved my party to Sunday dinner, then neither Amy nor Aaron & Jen and their s could come. I thought things were picking up a bit when Jer called at 7:00AM... but he was actually calling Pete. Melissa called on my way to work and while I was talking to her both Amy and Lorna called. Life was definitely getting better.

At work they had decorated my desk with balloons and streamers and a 12-pack of Coke Zero (my new drink of choice). When I got back fro my scheduling meeting I was told to go to the "Lobo Lounge". They had prepared a great barbecue and TWO cakes! One had pink butterflies with lots of pink frosting (yes I am secure in my manhood) and the other was an ice cream-cake with big six-zero candles (they didn't want to set fire to the building). They all sang happy birthday and gave me a huge card that says "A long, long, long time ago..." Then when you open it it plays the Star Wars theme and reads, "You were born!" Too cool for school. The commander told me to go home so I called Babs to let her know I wouldn't have to come back after lunch. She said, "Why don't we go see a movie this afternoon then?"

"Cool!" says I, (not wondering even a tiny bit why this woman who had gone to a movie with me exactly TWICE in the last two years would suggest such a thing) we'll pick one to go to before we go out to eat at "Oregano's". We decided on "Marley and Me" but she needed to go pick up the carrot cake for my birthday from Costco first so she wouldn't have to go there on Saturday (me still clueless). We get to the theater, she has to pee BEFORE the movie, okay. Movie is good, but sad. She has to pee AFTER the movie (still absolutely, utterly clueless). We go to Oregano's, I drop her off to get us on the waiting list and then I try to find a place to park. Their lot is FULL so I wind up parking down the street. When I get back to her she says "Only a 45 minute wait dear." This from a woman who was ready to eat her fingers?!? I can't believe she would be willing to wait so long! I don't want to wait that long! I suggested we just go to "Chili's" and call ahead on the way. Reluctantly she agreed. We both had their country fried steak (what else would I eat there?). After the meal, AGAIN she has to pee! What is with this woman?

When we pulled into the carport I notice the living room blind was pulled down and made a comment about Pete and Dan having an so she said, "Oh, they're probably just watching a movie." I open the door...SURPRISE!! There is Amy sitting on the floor and there are Aaron and Jen and everyone else saying HAPPY BIRTHDAY!! And what is to my left? No entertainment center but a 46" flat-screen TV hanging on the wall playing a cool video of pictures from my life with the Beach Boys song "I Get Around" playing in the background. I was completely flabbergasted. It was the very best birthday ever! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! I love you all more than you will ever know...


I now have no reason to leave my lazy-boy.

8 Random Things About Me

In random order:

1. The very best decision I ever made in my whole long life is marrying Barbara Parkin.

2. My right ear is bigger than my left ear.

3. I owe my sense of humor to my dad who was the funniest man I have ever known.

4. My children are so amazing I can't even imagine how great their kids will be!

5. Frozen raspberry zingers ring my chimes.

6. I really am arrogant.

7. Calabasitas are GROSS!

8. At times I miss Cori beyond measure.


There you are. Thanks for starting this Melissa.

And Here We Have Idaho...

For the ill/uninformed masses, the title of this blog is also the title of the Idaho state song. I have been laboring rather diligently to teach the little ditty to Daniel who leaves in two days to serve his mission in Pocatello. I figure he can impress the heck out of the spudvillians by bursting forth with a rousing rendition of their own state song. This coming from a Panamanian-born Arizona kid should wow them to no end (though they do tend to be easily amused). Enough of this blather. This is about the trip to Idaho.

My very oldest sister, Lorna came into enough money to fund another trip to Idaho (we went last summer for family/school reunions). She offered to pay for me to come along as her chauffeur/body guard/porter/lackey so off we went. The trip was to coincide with our brother Stanley's 73rd birthday. We flew to Boise to borrow our Uncle Lloyd's pickup (again) for the rest of the trip. We drove to Twin Falls to spend the night with Aunt Wyoma. What fun that was! She is 88 years old and a dear, sweet lady who lives my herself and should NOT be allowed to drive ever again! I know it's hard to give up that independence but, sweet mother-of-pearl, it was scary riding with her. It was a great visit though. I got to spend time with her looking at old pictures and talking about how it was when she and my dad were kids and her life during World War II. I hope she can still make it to Yuma for the winter. Lorna plans to bring her to Tucson so she can come visit.

The next day we drove to Mackay to stay with dear friends Carol and Lowell Fraunholtz whose claim to fame (one of many) is that their daughter is the script supervisor for the TV series "Lost". Her name is even in the credits. My best friend in high school, Brad Kirwan, met us there in Mackay so we could go fishing. He brought his dog, Tia, along and off we went to the dam to attack the trout. I took some cool pictures but will have to attach them later because I don't know how to do that yet. At any rate, I fished, he caught, Tia played with a big yellow lab, and we all had a wonderful time. To be continued...

Where Have You Been Grandpa?

Rumors of my demise have been greatly exaggerated. I plan to chop this blog into more palatable chunks so as to deter potential readers from considering it to be the next great American novel. First off, the reason for such a long gap in gapoz. Upon my return flight from Boise on 22 SEP (more about that wonderful trip later) , I felt a twinge in what I imagined to be the sinus on the left side of my schnozz. No biggie, thought I. WRONG! Soon twinge blossomed to semi-large ice-pick protruding from aforementioned spot accompanied by double vision. Very long story shortened as much as I can: trips to emergency room, ophthalmologist, Dr Moe Howard, fistsfulls of pills, ophthalmologist again, MRI, and finally (oh, blessed relief!) steroids prescribed by the dear, sweet ophthalmologist. Within an hour of taking the steroids the pain that had been constant for almost three weeks was gone! I still have to have a CAT-scan and am back to wearing the eye-patch (arrrgh!) but I can function once again and even sleep.

The Short Arm of the Law or 3 Hots and a Cot...NOT!

It all started quite calmly with Benjamin and me going to the UofA football game. First game of the season, excitement in the air, anticipation you could cut with a knife! We wound up getting there too late for Ben's friends tailgating so we had to make do with the poptarts we lifted from the treat closet. Though being too late for tailgating, we were in my fine season-ticket seats a full hour before game time. Finally the Mighty Vandals of the University of Idaho from Moscow, Idaho (pronounced moscoe, Moss-Cow is in Russia) were putting the ball on the tee to kick off the brand-spanking new football season. But no, before the guy could kick the ball, the referees started shooing the players off the field. What the... Then the announcer guy says "Please evacuate the stadium, there has been a lightning strike close by so everyone go to your cars or seek shelter." Huh? I didn't hear thunder or anything. Perhaps I was distracted by the pom-pom people or something, I don't know. I told Ben that there's no way they can get the 45,000 or so of us to leave the bleeding stadium. Especially the students with their Zona Zoo tickets and bellies full of beer. Announcer guy says "Please leave the stadium, you will be allowed to re-enter with your ticket stubs." "Leave now or stay at your own risk." Your own risk eh? I figure if I get struck by lightning at my age, it's God's way of telling me "You've lived a good life, come to my arms my beemish boy!" "Oh, framshous day!" "Calooo, Calay!" Though I make a rather formidable target, I'll take my chances. Down we both sit. Soon the rain comes and brings with it a County Mountie who tells us we have to leave. "No." I say, "The guy said, stay at your own risk so I am." "You have to leave," says Mr Gestapo. "No." I repeat, "I've lived long enough to be willing to take my chances." "You have to leave." "Really?" "Really." "What about that stay-at-your-own-risk thingie?" "You have to leave." By this time Ben has left. I sit down and say "What are you going to do, arrest me?" "Do you want to be arrested?" says Sir Stormtrooper. "Not especially," says I. "I'm asking you nicely to leave," says Sgt Schultz . "I'm telling you nicely I'm not going anywhere," says I, doing some quick math to figure how many of them it's going to take to haul my 275 lb butt from the front row of the upper tier and up the steps then out of the stadium. I decide it would be more than they were willing to call in from the rest of the stadium or cave or wherever they come from. "If we take you out, you can't come back in." Ouch! He got me with that one. I did come to see a game after all. I guess watching the game would be better than three hots and a cot at the County dungeon. When I got where Ben was he said that he was talking to his Mom and she said she wouldn't come bail me out of jail.

Now it was raining, really RAINING. Like the proverbial cow passing water on a flat rock. Pitchforks, hoe-handles, cats, dogs, goats, javalina, wildebeasts, boa-constrictors, RAIN! Mr. hobnail boots must have thought he might melt so he left and I went back to my seat to wait for 30-minutes-with-no-lightning so they could re-start the game. The kick-off was a little over an hour late but, sweet Himmler's handbag, what a game! The score at halftime was 49-0 in favor of Arizona. To start the second half Coach Stoops benched all the starters to see what the back-ups could do, and they did. Fourth quarter, third string, two pom-pom people, and a flag twirler went in. They still picked off two passes and made the final score 70-0. Before the game Idaho was ranked 119th of 119 teams but I don't think that's fair. They should have been 125th. So much for the Alma Mater of our possible Vice President.

The Judicial Branch at its very best

Somehow the word got to Pima County that prospective jurors live at the Howe Home. Sarah got a summons first, then I did and then Babs did! We're waiting with bated breath for Dan's to show up. Sarah did her civic duty last month and Babs got an extension to October so she won't miss work. My clarion call was originally for 20 AUG but got postponed to the 26th (happy birthday Sarah). I seem to get "selected" at least once a year and, to be honest (which I hope I am all the time), I rather enjoy the whole business. Last year I got tagged by the Feds and went to U.S. District Court which is a whole nother ball game than what Pima county throws at you. First of all it was in a completely different building that was much farther from where I usually park. They also must think they're an airport because we had to take off our shoes to get through security. The case I just missed getting on was about a Border Patrol dude who was accused of stealing a bale of wacky weed from a bust down by Nogales. I'm not sure why he wanted a trial because it was all on video from his buddies dash-cam showing him taking the bale from the truck they busted and puting it in the back of his patrol car never to be seen/smelled again. Maybe he was just taking it to his kid's class for show and tell, I don't know. Wait a minute! This is supposed to be about my juriness THIS time.

Since they have torn up my old FREE parking place, I had to park in the Public Works parking garage. I guess it's really not that bad. It's much closer and only cost $2 with a validated ticket from the kindly jury ladies. I find the whole jury selection process quite fascinating. We, the eclectic cross-section of Pima County humanity, all turn in our summons' and get a questionnaire and a spiffy plastic juror badge holder in return. I had a 9:00 report time an got there before 8:30 (shorter walk). Oh, Holy Night! At least half of Pima County was crammed like so many anxious sardinies in the jury "assembly" room. Most of the 7:00, 7:30, 8:00, and 8:30 crowd were still milling around or going to or from various and sundry courtrooms. It was amazing to me how many of these semi-responsible folks straggled in around 9:30 and 10:00! I think there should be some kind of torturous punishment for those slackers. They should have their nose hairs pulled by Vietnamese refugees or have their elbows super-glued to each others' backsides or something. But no, the desk ladies didn't even make them watch the epic "Welcome to Pima County Jury Duty" movie that they had missed. Things cheered up once the bailiffs arrived and the desk ladies started calling off names like numbers at a bingo game. It would be much more fun if they would call them in alphabetical order. At least that way a guy could doze off until they get to the H's. After a few groups left with their shepherd/bailiff, I heard the lady of deskiness call for Ronald Ho. I figured that was close enough and answered "HERE!" It never ceases to amaze me how someone can mis-pronounce HOWE. Especially the way she did. Did her kindergarten teacher read "Ho no brone co" to her? I could deal with "howie" but "Ho?" What does she think I am, some lady of the evening? At any rate, off to the third floor we went with our bailiff, the "girl in the yellow sweater." Fun times for us in the third floor NARROW dimly lit hallway with three, count'em THREE other groups. Each bailiff was calling off names to line us up like holocaust victims going off to the showers. I found myself in the middle of row three bound for Judge Godoy's courtroom. Going into the room was sheer pleasure because it was air-conditioned and much roomier than the hallway. Being in the middle of row three placed me in the row of hard chairs in front of the nice comfy chairs in the jury box. Let the voir dire begin!

Judge Godoy is a cool lady that I will be sure to vote for the next time her name comes up on the judge ballot. She was very nice and had a good sense of humor. The rest of the morning passed with her asking yes or no questions of us like "Do you know any members of the court?" "Do you know any law enforcement officers?" "Are you left handed?" and such like that. That's what voir dire means in case you wondered. I tried to look it up in the dictionary because I didn't know how it was spelled and it was NOT in either of the two dictionaries I looked in. I finally had to call Amy to find out how to get to Wikipedia without losing all the profoundness I had written.

Back to court. If any of us raised our little hand, we could explain the yes answer from our seat or, if we were shy or embarrassed by our answer, we could go up to the judge and meet there with both lawyers and whisper our reason for wanting out of the room. Of note, the judge, bailiff, court clerk, recorder, and BOTH lawyers were all of the females persuasion . Welcome to Amazonia. The defendant was the only guy there. You could cut the estrogen with a knife! But, I digress. The trial was for a young Hispanic male who was accused of DUI on a suspended license and possession of wacky weed along with the paraphernalia for using such vile stuff. By the time we eliminated half of the group and replaced them with members of those not lucky enough to be in the three rows, it was time for lunch. I had neither the motivation nor the money to go someplace for lunch so I got a diet coke and zingers from the vending machines and slaved over work-stuff for the 1.5 hours until I had to go back to third-floor hades.

Now the fun began. Each of us in the comfy and not-so comfy juror seats got to stand up in turn and tell the court a little bit about ourselves. So as to make it "easier" for us there was a list of things (actually more questions) on a big sheet at the front of the room to help us remember our name, where we live, marital status, etc. Every stinking time they have one that wants the number and AGES of my children. Number, not so hard. I can even name all ten. But for crying out loud, AGES? How in the heck am I supposed to keep track of THAT! It's a living, breathing thing that changes depending on the bleeding day of the year! It was even Sarah's birthday that very DAY! What is she 21, 22, 23, 17? I need a cheat sheet. I pretty much bluffed my way through until the last item. "Have you ever served on a jury? What kind? What was the verdict? I think my answer pretty much sealed my fate since the ONLY jury I have served on was for a DUI and we convicted the one-armed S.O.B.!