I love mechanical things. They have always been a component of my professional career, military career and personal time avocation. Machines I understand. They operate with a very predictable cause and effect dynamic. Unlike people, who are all crazy and rarely behave as one might expect, the performance of my machines is determined by my skills, or lack of the same.

I have, what I would consider, an optimal relationship with the mechanic who works on my truck. A relationship that took years to develop, but is certainly worth the effort. Basically, I do some of the work he deems complicated and necessary, and later answer his questions intended to see if I actually did the work, or took the vehicle elsewhere for repair.

Gaining a little respect for mechanical skills, I now selectively bring parts in that I researched and selected, and let him do really good work on installation. Plus he does all of the routine maintenance and flags problems he encounters. I never get padded bills, and the truck is in great shape. I’m not lazy, nor am I mechanically incompetent.  It’s just that I am at an age where changing the oil on my truck does not move the needle on the enthusiasm meter.

Attending a town meeting. Yes, this is going somewhere

Our little town of 5800 people is losing its mind. The town manager and board of select men keep raising taxes and spending property tax dollars as though they were from their personal checking accounts. They constantly and quietly spend money in a manner they claim needs no residents’ approval. The town’s financials are unaudited, expense accounts are abused, there is a good deal of conflict of interest where agreements for service are made, senior jobs are redundant, and now they are going to reassess property with the intention of a huge budget expansion. So I attended a town meeting.

The problem with local politics is that they invite people who don’t personally have much, to take charge of their neighbors assets and bank accounts. While they may be fiscally conservative with their own spending, they will spend other people’s money like a drunken sailor… marine, airman, soldier. I do not know the term for the broad population of members of the coast guard.

Petty bickering amongst the dozen or so people who attended. Amateur hour with a group that should not be managing other people’s money. But I digress. Of greater importance, I noticed I could barely see the unlit mountain roads on the way to the meeting, or on the return trip. High beams or low beams selected hardly made a difference. Disconcerting at best, especially when in an agitated state during the trip home. Me, not my truck, Chuck.

Pulling up to the garage doors in the dark, my reference marks on the door for checking headlight alignment showed the beams to be properly directed, but weak… dim… feeble. So I got out of the truck, stirring up the local coyotes, raccoons, deer, and other intrusive wildlife and took a look. All of the headlight enclosures were badly UV crazed. Sacre bleu! What ever happened to the “Blackhawk Squadron” and that scamp André Blanc-Dumont?

Changing headlight enclosures on a 2006 Chevy truck is pretty straight forward. A sliding bar latch retains the top enclosures and a locking tab secures the bottom enclosures. The lamp sockets twist lock in and out and an adjustment screw near the top enclosure slide latch sets vertical beam height. And while GM does not provide replacement parts for older vehicles, after market manufacturers do.

Amazon auto parts

Researching, OEM Chevy replacement headlight and bumper light sets, without bulbs, are priced at $279.99 and are marked “Made in China”. A set of aftermarket replacement enclosures, also without bulbs, and also made in China, were priced at $72.99. The cheap set was additionally IP65 waterproof and with a water runoff coated. A weighty buy decision to make, but concluded in 9 or 10 seconds.

So the enclosures arrived. I popped the hood, changed the passenger side bumper light, the most difficult of an easy installation, tossed the box with the remaining three enclosures in the truck, and took them down to the garage for installation…. and an oil change and filters, and a couple of Rain-X winter wiper blades. I wasn’t lazy, just bored with the process, and with many other projects in queue.

While Chuck was left for repairs, I used the now free time to service snow blowers, chain saws, and install the mid PTO driven snow blower on the tractor. Things I have to do myself. Call me lazy. Call me a new wave dilettante. No. Don’t call me that last one. I’m not even sure what it means.

In the spring, since Chuck’s exhaust system is getting a little.. throaty, a new exhaust system may be required… maybe long tube headers? Cam and heads?  First I think I better recover from the exertion of installing that passenger side bumper light and driving 15 miles to have the rest installed. And worrying about property taxes and the town brain trusts.

Old age is for an indeterminate period of time

It is clear, with firearm related work set aside, I need to be engaged in some meaningful work. It won’t be local or state politics. Politics, these days and all of the days before, are pure folly. No, not like Seward’s Folly where the end result is owning a huge strategic land mass. It’s more like a collection of people with individual agendas, pretending to want to serve the people and right (fill in the blanks) many wrongs. They will not. They will recklessly spend other people’s money in ever increasing amounts for the purpose of self enrichment and quickly forget why they were elected.

Maybe I will hot rod the truck. Although the thought of pulling an intake manifold and cylinder heads buried under fuel injection components and a timing gear over hiding behind crank driven accessories is a bit off putting. And if I can get the engine to push out 400 HP or so, what would I do with it? No local drag strips, so the joy of bracket racing is not in the cards. I’m a tad too old and have too many remaining brain cells to street race. The truck is, in 1950’s vernacular, “peppy” and easily climbs the mountain road I live on, even when covered with ice and snow. It is an American beauty.

I thought I might try learning something about CNC metal or wood working machines. Perhaps 3D printing. But I don’t have any production replicating work to do and I already have made 2,023 copies of the same gear on my 3D printer. I don’t need a $3,000-$5,000 machine sitting in the basement collecting dust while I try to figure out how to sell bottom heavy craft penguins on my web site.

It just dawned on me that we continue to grow older, until we are old. Then we grow younger as we begin to grapple with the same issues as when we were teens. What to do when I grow up and how will I get there? What is proper grammar and how has it eluded me all of these years? And don’t even get me started on commas.

Oh. Calvin Russell “Baby I Love You”. Thank God for music.