Hernando Hews '08
{The Looks and Outlooks of a Community}
www.hernandohews08.blogspot.com
Florida Menagerie 08
{The State Down Under}
www.ronraeblog.blogspot.com
Parcel Post '08
{Comments to Entice}
www.parcelpost08.blogspot.com
Thursday, October 16, 2008
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
Mike and His Mechanics
Just beyond the border of Mississippi and the final stretch along I-12 toward I-55 there’s a little town of Hammond, Louisiana. From what I could tell, it’s not much of place of action but it was at that point in the trip that a long than wanted stop found the first full day of driving seeking some assistance with the car because the engine light had displayed on the dashboard. The Camry was running and riding fine but the need was still there to find out what might affect the journey to the north.
I quickly found a local auto supply store whose attendant routed me to an AutoZone where they were able to do a diagnostic check. Almost in the snap of a finger, the woman identified the problem to be the “oxygen sensor before the catalytic converter”. I quickly made a silent inquiry to myself as to whether there may other oxygen sensors branching from the converter – maybe after, under, over? Of course, I had no idea so the question was never verbalized. It was a silly thought and a pointless idea but it momentarily distracted my attention from the immediate problem.
The lady was pleasant enough but her insistence that it be checked out further by a qualified mechanic to avoid other problems (such as poor gas mileage) gave a bit more concern as to where I could take the car since it was a Sunday afternoon. A Toyota dealership had been seen on the way about town but it wasn’t open for business and I began to wonder if the night was about to be spent where I didn’t want to dawdle. She suggested K-Mart automotive could handle the job. Wrong.
Hammond, LA, is quite small - about 18,000 people according to Rand McNally but the directions seemed vague and confusing. I couldn’t believe it but I ended up on a highway that took me to another highway, taking me around in circles because their were three different exits. Exasperated and a little touchy, I got back on a surface road and lo and behold! a local police car was idling in a parking lot. How joyful I was and much relieved that he was very friendly, probably noting a bit of "I don't know where I am" facial expression; the officer pointed me in the right direction, one turn and just a couple streets away.
Of course, K-Mart auto strictly does tired so there I was listening to my traveling companion, the owner of the Camry, going through another bout of panic.
Not to worry. Although I didn’t have the business card with me, and knowing his place of business would be closed on Sunday, I thought of Mike at ToyoDoc in my hometown just a short distance across from the St. Petersburg/Hernando Times building. But I quickly thought of his last name, O’Connor. A directory listing from 4-1-1 and a quick dial to his home number availed me the opportunity to leave a message with a simple summary of what I had been told at AutoZone.
By the end of the day, when the Boost Phone voicemail was retrieved, Mike said don’t worry about it, that the gas mileage might be affected but definitely nothing to be concerned about. He’d check it when we were back in town. It’s scheduled for an appointment this coming Thursday. What a relief it is to have such an excellent Doc to handle maintenance and repair servicing with an expertise that fixes what needs to be done rather than any other auto place that would most likely soak the wallet.
Mike and his mechanics are just shy of being saviors for all my automotive needs. Since moving from Chambord St to his recent location on Cortez Blvd some time ago he answered my inquiry as to how business was going. I thought with the economic situation things might be shy of business goals. Not so. He explained that, because word of mouth is the best means of advertising, he has no need to drum up business from any other source.
The motto of ToyoDoc: Proverbs 22... A good name is more desirable that great riches.
I say, great riches to the honest man.
A sincere thanks to Mike and his mechanics.
UPDATE
ToyoDoc quickly identified the problem as the catalytic converter, which is under factory warranty for 8 years/80,000 miles. Fortunately, there's no cost. Unfortunately, the Camry has to be taken to a Toyota dealership.
I quickly found a local auto supply store whose attendant routed me to an AutoZone where they were able to do a diagnostic check. Almost in the snap of a finger, the woman identified the problem to be the “oxygen sensor before the catalytic converter”. I quickly made a silent inquiry to myself as to whether there may other oxygen sensors branching from the converter – maybe after, under, over? Of course, I had no idea so the question was never verbalized. It was a silly thought and a pointless idea but it momentarily distracted my attention from the immediate problem.
The lady was pleasant enough but her insistence that it be checked out further by a qualified mechanic to avoid other problems (such as poor gas mileage) gave a bit more concern as to where I could take the car since it was a Sunday afternoon. A Toyota dealership had been seen on the way about town but it wasn’t open for business and I began to wonder if the night was about to be spent where I didn’t want to dawdle. She suggested K-Mart automotive could handle the job. Wrong.
Hammond, LA, is quite small - about 18,000 people according to Rand McNally but the directions seemed vague and confusing. I couldn’t believe it but I ended up on a highway that took me to another highway, taking me around in circles because their were three different exits. Exasperated and a little touchy, I got back on a surface road and lo and behold! a local police car was idling in a parking lot. How joyful I was and much relieved that he was very friendly, probably noting a bit of "I don't know where I am" facial expression; the officer pointed me in the right direction, one turn and just a couple streets away.
Of course, K-Mart auto strictly does tired so there I was listening to my traveling companion, the owner of the Camry, going through another bout of panic.
Not to worry. Although I didn’t have the business card with me, and knowing his place of business would be closed on Sunday, I thought of Mike at ToyoDoc in my hometown just a short distance across from the St. Petersburg/Hernando Times building. But I quickly thought of his last name, O’Connor. A directory listing from 4-1-1 and a quick dial to his home number availed me the opportunity to leave a message with a simple summary of what I had been told at AutoZone.
By the end of the day, when the Boost Phone voicemail was retrieved, Mike said don’t worry about it, that the gas mileage might be affected but definitely nothing to be concerned about. He’d check it when we were back in town. It’s scheduled for an appointment this coming Thursday. What a relief it is to have such an excellent Doc to handle maintenance and repair servicing with an expertise that fixes what needs to be done rather than any other auto place that would most likely soak the wallet.
Mike and his mechanics are just shy of being saviors for all my automotive needs. Since moving from Chambord St to his recent location on Cortez Blvd some time ago he answered my inquiry as to how business was going. I thought with the economic situation things might be shy of business goals. Not so. He explained that, because word of mouth is the best means of advertising, he has no need to drum up business from any other source.
The motto of ToyoDoc: Proverbs 22... A good name is more desirable that great riches.
I say, great riches to the honest man.
A sincere thanks to Mike and his mechanics.
UPDATE
ToyoDoc quickly identified the problem as the catalytic converter, which is under factory warranty for 8 years/80,000 miles. Fortunately, there's no cost. Unfortunately, the Camry has to be taken to a Toyota dealership.
LoveBugs Leave My Car Alone
I can’t really say that the trip to South Dakota started out poorly but after driving through first night and stopping the next evening the splatters on the windshield and front bumper had made a pretty good mess on the car.
What surprised me about the beginning of the journey was that, after traveling safely through the Florida panhandle by way of SR 19 then I-10 and a little stretch on I-12 to avoid New Orleans, the short distance through Mississippi and proceeding through a good portion of Louisiana along the northbound lanes on I-55 brought the sight of LoveBug splotches of gray, black and red colors decorated the Color Guard coating over the paint of the ’03 Camry, including the review mirrors.
The season of LoveBugs in Florida had minimal affect from the damaging acidity of those pesky little buggers. Previous years had plastered the porch and window screens of my home, even squeezing their pliable bodies through the tiniest openings and flying inside when outside doors were opened. Naivety made me fail to question the feasibility that through the past three decades their unnatural terrains well exceed the confines of Florida.
It wasn’t until after a few days of arriving in Rapid City that time was spent removing their remains from the car. Mild scrubbing before hand gave the touch-free automated car wash an easier job of the rest. Without rainfall locally, lovebugs were denied their basis of multiplying and 2008 gave us a respite.
Fortunately, the trip back to Hernando County was totally void of LoveBugs and very few others.
What surprised me about the beginning of the journey was that, after traveling safely through the Florida panhandle by way of SR 19 then I-10 and a little stretch on I-12 to avoid New Orleans, the short distance through Mississippi and proceeding through a good portion of Louisiana along the northbound lanes on I-55 brought the sight of LoveBug splotches of gray, black and red colors decorated the Color Guard coating over the paint of the ’03 Camry, including the review mirrors.
The season of LoveBugs in Florida had minimal affect from the damaging acidity of those pesky little buggers. Previous years had plastered the porch and window screens of my home, even squeezing their pliable bodies through the tiniest openings and flying inside when outside doors were opened. Naivety made me fail to question the feasibility that through the past three decades their unnatural terrains well exceed the confines of Florida.
It wasn’t until after a few days of arriving in Rapid City that time was spent removing their remains from the car. Mild scrubbing before hand gave the touch-free automated car wash an easier job of the rest. Without rainfall locally, lovebugs were denied their basis of multiplying and 2008 gave us a respite.
Fortunately, the trip back to Hernando County was totally void of LoveBugs and very few others.
Falling Into Summer Vacation
The original departure date to leave from Spring Hill, FL, to Rapid City, SD, was marked as September 22, the first day of fall. After careful thought, a mere four days prior to that date, it changed. First it became a day earlier on Sunday. A day later the final decision had been made for the 20th.
The reason centered on the realization that if someone should ask “What did you do on your summer vacation?” I’d have to say it didn’t happen. So, although it was at the tail end of the season, the departure date had been changed to avoid a disclaimer explaining why it I had no summertime views of this land of natural wonders.
With a little stretch of the true facts, I can now say that I vacationed in the summer and the fall!
The reason centered on the realization that if someone should ask “What did you do on your summer vacation?” I’d have to say it didn’t happen. So, although it was at the tail end of the season, the departure date had been changed to avoid a disclaimer explaining why it I had no summertime views of this land of natural wonders.
With a little stretch of the true facts, I can now say that I vacationed in the summer and the fall!
Still Depooperating
What an exciting, relaxing visit to South Dakota has been. Two full weeks among the Black Hills and all the wonderful sights that invigorated my already love and appreciation of nature had to be left behind as the inevitable return to my home and cats (actually, not in that order!) crept up with reality.
All went pretty well on the trip to the northern plains of America. I suppose I was very fortunate to have found motels along the way that were very accommodating for periods of badly needed rest. Sleeping in comfortable quarters surely made the days’ driving of a few hundred miles kept my mind and body well prepared for the exciting weeks ahead.
But, oh, those three nights spent heading back to Florida wore me down far beyond the energy that kept my being ready for one adventure after another. It was a far cry from the nights spent in the cabin at the base of the Hills.
Body aches from not-to-comfortable beds and by the time I finally reached the final destination in my round trip visit, I returned to find myself too pooped to do much other than wait for the time when I would regain my energy level. And it hasn’t quite yet achieved that degree of energy needed to get the groove back to attend to household chores and yard maintenance.
Fortunately, the house was left in a near perfect condition and with two cats for a neighbor to care for and the grass grew very little with the typical shortage (none) of rainfall. Roy, the Good Samaritan who actually thanked ME for allowing HIM to feed, clean the litter box and enjoy their company, even mowed the yard shortly before I got back just to even it off!
I had left Roy with a moderately money-filled debit card as a token gesture of appreciation for the duties he gleefully accepted. The day before I got back he used a bag of cat food ($7.95 plus tax) to make sure there wouldn’t be an immediate need for me to rush to Wal-Mart to keep the little critters’ appetite fulfilled! When I handed the card back to him after he welcomed us back and returned the key that gave him access to the backyard, he claimed he wasn’t sure it was meant as compensation for his maintenance fees. And yet, he was well aware of my intention the card was his to use as he wished.
(Roy keeps a key to the house in his possession at all times, just in case there’s ever an emergency where his assistance is needed when I’m delayed or unable to be at home to tend to my own responsibilities. We have a great degree of trust between us.)
Part of my exhaustion comes from the days of return to Spring Hill but a good part of it can be attributed to those very cats, Elvis and Sassy, that I missed so very much. Elvis is fairly innocent in the matter but there’s a certain amount of belief that he may be the actual reason why Sassy is extremely persistent in making sure I get up at a specific hour for the morning feeding.
Most of the clothes have been returned to the closet and dresser drawers but the souvenirs and relished pieces of printed materials, including brochures, sales receipts and bits of notes I scribbled on pieces of paper, that will assist my memory sometime in the distant future are left for another day or week when I become completely depooperated.
All went pretty well on the trip to the northern plains of America. I suppose I was very fortunate to have found motels along the way that were very accommodating for periods of badly needed rest. Sleeping in comfortable quarters surely made the days’ driving of a few hundred miles kept my mind and body well prepared for the exciting weeks ahead.
But, oh, those three nights spent heading back to Florida wore me down far beyond the energy that kept my being ready for one adventure after another. It was a far cry from the nights spent in the cabin at the base of the Hills.
Body aches from not-to-comfortable beds and by the time I finally reached the final destination in my round trip visit, I returned to find myself too pooped to do much other than wait for the time when I would regain my energy level. And it hasn’t quite yet achieved that degree of energy needed to get the groove back to attend to household chores and yard maintenance.
Fortunately, the house was left in a near perfect condition and with two cats for a neighbor to care for and the grass grew very little with the typical shortage (none) of rainfall. Roy, the Good Samaritan who actually thanked ME for allowing HIM to feed, clean the litter box and enjoy their company, even mowed the yard shortly before I got back just to even it off!
I had left Roy with a moderately money-filled debit card as a token gesture of appreciation for the duties he gleefully accepted. The day before I got back he used a bag of cat food ($7.95 plus tax) to make sure there wouldn’t be an immediate need for me to rush to Wal-Mart to keep the little critters’ appetite fulfilled! When I handed the card back to him after he welcomed us back and returned the key that gave him access to the backyard, he claimed he wasn’t sure it was meant as compensation for his maintenance fees. And yet, he was well aware of my intention the card was his to use as he wished.
(Roy keeps a key to the house in his possession at all times, just in case there’s ever an emergency where his assistance is needed when I’m delayed or unable to be at home to tend to my own responsibilities. We have a great degree of trust between us.)
Part of my exhaustion comes from the days of return to Spring Hill but a good part of it can be attributed to those very cats, Elvis and Sassy, that I missed so very much. Elvis is fairly innocent in the matter but there’s a certain amount of belief that he may be the actual reason why Sassy is extremely persistent in making sure I get up at a specific hour for the morning feeding.
Most of the clothes have been returned to the closet and dresser drawers but the souvenirs and relished pieces of printed materials, including brochures, sales receipts and bits of notes I scribbled on pieces of paper, that will assist my memory sometime in the distant future are left for another day or week when I become completely depooperated.
Wednesday, September 3, 2008
No Rush to Rushmore
Come hell or high gas prices, the 30-year anniversary vacation has been set and the countdown ends with the departure on September 22 and the return a couple weeks later. It’ll be a vacation when friends and relatives will wait another year to reunite. (It's incidental that neice Heather and fiance Phil will draw the family brood from Michigan to Orlando for the blissful marriage that will undoubtably see them through their lives together. They will wed on Valentine's Day 2009.)
The first “private and personal” vacation was during my life in Southern California in the ‘80s. I visited Yosemite National Park shortly after Labor Day when most people have ended their summer excursions and seen their kids back to school. Reservations weren’t required.
The peaceful solitude to explore the natural beauty of such a world treasure was the most memorable vacation up ‘til then. El Capitan and the Devil's Postpile were awesome. The nights were nippy. Rental rates were low. It was a leisurely vacation and the intimacy of other vacationers and local merchants rejuvenated this worker from life’s daily routines.
The next private vacation came in ’95 with a trip to the island of Kauai in Hawaii. It was kinda expensive but incremental savings over the previous year covered much of the costs so it was quicker, easier to pay down the balances due. The trip was taken the week following Thanksgiving and upon the arrival in Lihue it was evident that it would be much like the trip to Yosemite. Few people and, once again, nothing but friendly exchanges between vacationers and locals.
I felt I was being catered to as I primarily made daily adventures around the island, including views of Kauai from the cab of a helicopter, and some island hopping to the lava beds and farmlands on the Big Island. Their terrains are from different worlds!
This year, the vacation is a round-trip road trip to Mount Rushmore. The after-Labor Day vacation will have fewer crowds so that sense of camaraderie will again enhance the easy-going days of taking deep breaths of fresh air and the sighs of appreciation for the time to reflect, relax and easily relate to people and nature alike.
There’ll be the 19th Annual Buffalo Wallow Chili Cookoff in Custer National Park on September 28. The following day is the 43rd Annual Custer State Park Buffalo Roundup Day where “cowboys and cowgirls herd up 1,500 buffalo into corrals to be readied for the fall Buffalo Sale”. All this and the 3-day Buffalo Roundup Arts Festival to boot!
The following days will be filled with adventures in nature settings unique to the area. The Black Hills, The Badlands, Wind Cave National Park, a number of National Monuments and Memorials, the history of the Sioux Nation and Crazy Horse… And, of course, Mount Rushmore National Monument will be the highlight of just one small piece of American heritage.
Away we go! Freewheelin’ days straight ahead!
Although, come hurricane and high winds, the whole scenario changes.
The first “private and personal” vacation was during my life in Southern California in the ‘80s. I visited Yosemite National Park shortly after Labor Day when most people have ended their summer excursions and seen their kids back to school. Reservations weren’t required.
The peaceful solitude to explore the natural beauty of such a world treasure was the most memorable vacation up ‘til then. El Capitan and the Devil's Postpile were awesome. The nights were nippy. Rental rates were low. It was a leisurely vacation and the intimacy of other vacationers and local merchants rejuvenated this worker from life’s daily routines.
The next private vacation came in ’95 with a trip to the island of Kauai in Hawaii. It was kinda expensive but incremental savings over the previous year covered much of the costs so it was quicker, easier to pay down the balances due. The trip was taken the week following Thanksgiving and upon the arrival in Lihue it was evident that it would be much like the trip to Yosemite. Few people and, once again, nothing but friendly exchanges between vacationers and locals.
I felt I was being catered to as I primarily made daily adventures around the island, including views of Kauai from the cab of a helicopter, and some island hopping to the lava beds and farmlands on the Big Island. Their terrains are from different worlds!
This year, the vacation is a round-trip road trip to Mount Rushmore. The after-Labor Day vacation will have fewer crowds so that sense of camaraderie will again enhance the easy-going days of taking deep breaths of fresh air and the sighs of appreciation for the time to reflect, relax and easily relate to people and nature alike.
There’ll be the 19th Annual Buffalo Wallow Chili Cookoff in Custer National Park on September 28. The following day is the 43rd Annual Custer State Park Buffalo Roundup Day where “cowboys and cowgirls herd up 1,500 buffalo into corrals to be readied for the fall Buffalo Sale”. All this and the 3-day Buffalo Roundup Arts Festival to boot!
The following days will be filled with adventures in nature settings unique to the area. The Black Hills, The Badlands, Wind Cave National Park, a number of National Monuments and Memorials, the history of the Sioux Nation and Crazy Horse… And, of course, Mount Rushmore National Monument will be the highlight of just one small piece of American heritage.
Away we go! Freewheelin’ days straight ahead!
Although, come hurricane and high winds, the whole scenario changes.
Saturday, August 16, 2008
Faux Pas To You, Too
There are times when I’ll come up with a response to a statement made by a salesman that kinda stops the conversation stone cold dead as the other party has no idea what to say. The times are infrequent, or I just don’t remember other occurrences, but there are two that stand out that have happened during the last couple of years.
Carpet tracks
A door-to-door salesman knocked on the door along with his sidekick to demonstrate a top of the line vacuum cleaner. As they entered the house, a huge sealed box was carried inside. It appeared that attachments were easy to install as they pulled out piece by piece.
The main gimmick was the offer to shampoo a couple of rooms and a well-worn path down a hallway. Although the carpet was frequently attended too, a filter on the new cleaner clearly showed there was much more dirt embedded in the thick pile than what was picked up by the contraption I had used maybe three to four years.
The lead salesman made the statement that a good vacuum cleaner will leave wheel tracks in its path. I didn’t quite understand why he made mention of this but I made a simple words that “The cleaner I have still leaves tracks…” The young man just stared back at me, not knowing what to say, apparently never having had a prospective buyer make such a statement. The silence was profound until I assured him I was impressed with the quality cleaning performed by his merchandise.
The cleaner sold itself. With metal parts and little plastic, it will surely keep on going when I’m gone.
Bugging the technician
After a year of living in my home, it was time to renew the annual contract with a pest control company – the same one that originally treated the perimeter for subterranean termites. As the technician made his way around the house, I happened to be on the porch as he was spraying around the soffit and kindly asked him what he was doing. When he said he was treating around the house for other insects, I made the comment that I do it on a monthly basis with Home Defense and have no problems.
He stared at me, not sure if how to respond to a service that I hadn’t requested and may not need. The silence was finally broken when I made the evaluation that his chemical treatment would last longer than a consumer product and that it was okay to continue the work.
Me Too
True, I’ve also stood dumbfounded at a response that someone has made to a statement of mine. I know what it feels like to be in that situation, but it’s more fun when the other party takes the brunt of my response to their statement.
Carpet tracks
A door-to-door salesman knocked on the door along with his sidekick to demonstrate a top of the line vacuum cleaner. As they entered the house, a huge sealed box was carried inside. It appeared that attachments were easy to install as they pulled out piece by piece.
The main gimmick was the offer to shampoo a couple of rooms and a well-worn path down a hallway. Although the carpet was frequently attended too, a filter on the new cleaner clearly showed there was much more dirt embedded in the thick pile than what was picked up by the contraption I had used maybe three to four years.
The lead salesman made the statement that a good vacuum cleaner will leave wheel tracks in its path. I didn’t quite understand why he made mention of this but I made a simple words that “The cleaner I have still leaves tracks…” The young man just stared back at me, not knowing what to say, apparently never having had a prospective buyer make such a statement. The silence was profound until I assured him I was impressed with the quality cleaning performed by his merchandise.
The cleaner sold itself. With metal parts and little plastic, it will surely keep on going when I’m gone.
Bugging the technician
After a year of living in my home, it was time to renew the annual contract with a pest control company – the same one that originally treated the perimeter for subterranean termites. As the technician made his way around the house, I happened to be on the porch as he was spraying around the soffit and kindly asked him what he was doing. When he said he was treating around the house for other insects, I made the comment that I do it on a monthly basis with Home Defense and have no problems.
He stared at me, not sure if how to respond to a service that I hadn’t requested and may not need. The silence was finally broken when I made the evaluation that his chemical treatment would last longer than a consumer product and that it was okay to continue the work.
Me Too
True, I’ve also stood dumbfounded at a response that someone has made to a statement of mine. I know what it feels like to be in that situation, but it’s more fun when the other party takes the brunt of my response to their statement.
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