Fun Drive Home

 On my way home from work today there was a "dude" cutting through traffic in his Acura TL. Car looked nice and had a sporty sounding exhaust, but the way the guy was driving it was kind of ticking off the crotchety old man in me.

We ended up side-by-side at a light and he sat there revving his engine. I, of course, took it as a challenge, so I staged up. Foot on the brake and throttle down just enough to sit on the stall of the converter. Light turned green and my 4000 pound Mercury Grand Marquis put a couple of car lengths on him. I backed off at 60 and he passed me.

That was when the F250 beater that had been behind me whipped over and passed me too. He rolled up next to the Acura and they took off. This was where I got to really laughing because that shit box diesel F250 gapped that Acura like it was sitting still...twice. Amazing what a well tuned diesel will do.

Have a great weekend.

Another Trip Around the Sun

     Today marks my 52nd orbit. Had to renew my license and hear the nice lady say she was changing the hair color from BRN to GRY. Dammit. Oh well, like they always say "any day above ground is a good one."

     On the upside, I'm actually losing weight for the first time in my life. Down about 15 pounds so far with about thirty left to go.  Goal is to keep that A1c down in the mid 5's and maybe cut back or eliminate the BP meds for a while. Tired of taking pills. To be honest I've always hated exercise, so it really pains me to admit I feel better than I've felt in years, no scratch that, decades.

     On the writing front, I'm slowly making progress on things. Nothing to really share now. Work has kept my mind occupied way more than I like, which makes shifting into creative mode difficult at times. There are things working and things coming, I just can't nail down any timelines right now.

     Oh and the project cars and cars that keep making themselves into projects. One of the downsides to having a penchant for older cars is that they take a lot of TLC to keep on the road. Could I afford a new car? If there were any to have, probably. Do I want one? Not so much. Well, I mean I wouldn't turn down a new Mustang GT, but I don't think anyone is about to give me one. 

     Everyone take care of yourselves and those you love. Remember to be good, and if you can't be good, be sneaky.

-Wayne

Throwback Thursday

This is 16 year old me helping pull the reusable parts out of a buddy's 68 Mustang that was in a an accident. We called him Hoss. The parts went into another 68, called Hoss 2, which as coincidence would have it is still in his possession. Well some of it is. Over the years, this part or that has been scrounged from it until all that is left is the unibody, doors, trunk lid, and glass. 

Its a lot more solid than the 68 that is sitting beside my house. It has front floors for instance. This is a picture taken THROUGH the floor of my "complete" 68. 

My buddy offered me the car. I loved this car back in the day and I'm going to make sure it comes back in all it's glory...and then some. I mean we were kids when we built it the first time. Hoss 2 will be back. It may take me a few years, but it will happen.

Gentlemen, we can rebuild him. We have the technology. We have the capability to make the world's first bionic man car. Steve Austin Hoss 2 will be that man car. Better than he was before. Better... stronger... faster.

Doesn't that pic have the look of "Seriously? Just stop." LOL

-Wayne

Wordy Wednesday

      So it appears that there is going to be a second volume of Tales Around the Supper Table, and I've been asked for a submission.  I've been having a really difficult time writing lately and my lack of posts here can serve as evidence. I've managed to wring about 1300 words or so out of my brain so far. Still waiting to see if this thing is going to develop into a story or not. If it does, I think the target is a Christmas release unless plans have changed without my knowledge.

     As always, opinions and suggestions are welcome.

-Wayne

     Scott was flat of his back on the creeper under his lander realigning and cussing the "gods-be-damned hydraulics" on the right, rear landing gear again.  He was doing that after almost every landing lately, no matter how gently he touched down. He grabbed the hydraulic cylinder that actuated the gear and yanked it back into place. His hand slipped on the leaking hydraulic fluid and slammed his knuckles into the bulkhead.

     "You piece of shit! Let me get one more really good job, and I'm gonna replace your worn-out ass! If I can find another lander that isn’t just as big of a pile and will fit in the shuttle bay of the hunk of junk I work out of before the inspectors force me to take its damned near obsolete ass out of service. Fuck my life."

     He stabbed the wrench up into the access to tighten everything back down only to realize he'd grabbed a twelve-millimeter spanner instead of the ten.

     "Damned ten mil wrenches have stealth capabilities." He turned his head to the side to find the wrench he needed only to have his gaze land on a pair of well-polished dress shoes and the legs of an expensive looking pair of pants. "There's only about three people in the 'verse could ever sneak up me, and two of them are dead. What do you want, Sir?"

     The voice of his former commanding officer, Colonel Raymond Davies, a voice that up until now had only haunted his dreams replied, "Can that 'Sir' shit. We're not Troopers anymore. Can't a guy just drop in to check in with an old friend?"

     Scott went back to tightening down the adjustment bolt on the hydraulic ram he'd just finished aligning, locking it into place. When he finished, he rolled his creeper out from under the lander and sat up. "You? No, Sir. Not you. You need something, so spill it."

     Davies grabbed a nearby rolling stool and took a seat. "Ok fine. My company lost a shipment in Kovachian space. The diplomatic atmosphere isn't all that favorable to getting it back through the regular channels. Besides there may be a second, undocumented cargo on the freighter that the regular channels might find unacceptable and not return to me. I need someone in good standing with the Kovac, and failing that I need a ghost to get it back for me. Luckily, I know someone who meets both of those needs."

     Scott took the pack of smokes out of his shirt pocket, tapped one out, and lit it up without offering one to his visitor. He took a long pull on the cigarette and blew the smoke at Davies. "On any other day I'd tell you to fuck right off. Luckily for you, today is not any other day. What's the payday?"

     Davies waved his manicured hand in front of his face to fan away the smoke. "Straight to business huh? That's what I always liked about you, Scott. You're just so damned matter-of-fact about everything. Half a million galactic for successful return of the cargo. You're probably going to have to abandon that flying hunk of scrap you call a ship, so I'll transfer the title for the one the Kovac have captured into your name. Keep it."

     Scott shook his head and took another drag of his smoke once again blowing it towards Davies. "My impartial, down to business approach to things is why the Kovac deal with me. How do you know they haven't already taken the cargo and scrapped the boat? I mean, that is S.O.P. for those knuckle draggers. May not be much of anything left for me to recover."

      The second cloud of smoke brought a cough from Davies. "Can't believe you haven't given those damned things up. As for the ship and its cargo, we know it's still intact because F.I.D.O. won't let them on board. It'll overload the engines and destroy the ship before it will allow anyone, or in the case of the Kovac, anything, to enter the ship without proper authorization."

     Scott sat forward at the mention of a Fully Intelligent Defense and Operations A.I. "A F.I.D.O.? Are you out of your damned mind? Those things are fucking dangerous! Anyway, I thought they were outlawed after that one spaced the entire crew of a battle cruiser because it determined that they 'endangered' the ship."

     "Don't worry, Scott. This is a next gen version that we developed in-house. We haven't gotten clearance to give it a crew yet, but it is allowed to make short trips into contested space on its own provided the ship is unarmed, which is why the Kovac were able to capture it. It's primary programming will not let it destroy the ship or cargo unless the hull is breached. If that happens, we get a coded message notifying us of the event. No message yet means the ship is intact, which is where you come in."

     500k galactic plus a ship with a cutting edge A.I. What the hell are they sending me after that could be worth that? Davies was always into some sketchy shit when we were troopers, but there's not enough dope in the quadrant for that kind of payday. Guns maybe? That's his legit business though, why risk that with illegal arms? Hell, for that kind of payout, I don't really care.

     "Know what? I'm in."

     Davies stood up from the stool and reached into his jacket breast pocket. He pulled out a card and handed it to Scott. "Be at this location tomorrow at noon. Don't use your geo-locator to find it. Gotta go 'old Earth', all analog and paper to keep this off the wrong screens. You'll be meeting with me and my business associate. See ya then."

     Scott watched him walk away. He looked down at the card and recognized the address as being in the warehouse district on the west side of the city. He tucked it into his shirt pocket and rolled back under the lander to check the other two landing struts.

      This just feels off, but it's awfully elaborate if it's a setup. Besides, why would Davies bother with setting me up? More his style just to have me shot. Looks like I'm gonna have to scout it tonight, so I can know what I'm walking into.

***

     The warehouse district of what was once Corpus Christi, now part of the Houston Megalopolis that covered most of what was once Texas's coastline, served both the space port as well as the traditional water borne shipping ports and was almost always busy. Lurking around the area after dark without a work permit was sketchy. Merchant vessels were always looking for crew, and shanghaies were not unheard of. Luckily Scott had a reputation for being a person not to be trifled with. A reputation he well deserved for leaving more than one merchant marine laying on the docks in his own fluids.

     It didn't take him long to find the warehouse that belonged to RayCorp. It was the only clean and freshly painted building in the area. It was also one of the largest and well-lit buildings in the warehouse district. The entire facility including the parking area was surrounded by an eight-foot fence that was topped with razor wire. Armed guards patrolled inside the fenced perimeter and the only access point visible was a guarded gate. There was also a rail gun style hull piercer mounted on the roof of the warehouse to discourage incursion from above.

     I guess when you sell things that go bang and/or boom security is kind of important. All that shit would be just as effective at keeping someone in as it is at keeping them out. Davies always was overly cautious bordering on paranoid. I've already told him I'd take the job. Guess tomorrow will show me how well and truly fucked I am.

 

Manic Monday

      I got to start my Monday with my HR hat on. Always a fun way to kick off the week. I looked at the clock on my pc about the time I got the last little bits nailed down from crises 1 through 3 only to realize it was time for lunch. Got an invite from OldNFO to go to a new cajun/seafood place called The Catch. An invitation I was more than happy to accept.  Blackened gator nuggets. So good.      

     Got back to my desk after lunch with Lawdog and OldNFO. Our conversations rambled across topics like they almost always do and ended with Lawdog listing all of the things he has to write that's due soon. It was one heckuva list. Mine's long, but dayum. That boy's got a lot on his plate, and so does OldNFO. Speaking of which, there's a new western novella out from the lattter of the two that can be found HERE.

     Oh and last thing for you guys. This weekend I got sent down a musical rabbit hole. Sat and listened to a lot of this guy's bass playing. Gonna have to see if he's putting of this out in album form somewhere.

 Y'all have a good week.

Wayne

     

I'm Busted

So I finally got my first one star review. It was on Here There Be Pirates, and it is glorious. I have to admit that at first I was mildly ticked off, but the more I thought about it the funnier it got. I clicked on the name of the reader and found that the one star review is his bread-and-butter. That's pretty much all he does. Please allow me to share it here in its entirety:

I read this. Then I thought about it for a while and realized that on Lawdog's recommendation, I'd spent $2 on what is apparently a comic book proposal written by a 10 year old kid. If there's a joke here, I missed it.

Eloquent ain't he? I stand by my original statement on this blog from way back when I started this whole thing with Tole's story from The Bar at the End of Everything. If you're looking for the next great literary classic, or hell even moderately decent writing, you're in the wrong place. I tell stories. I do not aspire to do anything else.

Now I would just like to say that if any comic book publishers are reading this, I AM more than willing to license out the character for a modest fee plus royalties.

Y'all be good, and if you can't be good, be sneaky.

-Wayne

Reflections of a Grumpy Old Man

      I'm a grumpy old bastard. I'll admit it. It seems, though, that I have been getting progressively grumpier over the last ten years or so. The other morning as I was getting ready for work, I made eye contact with myself in the mirror and came to a realization. I was not always the angry, cynical, pessimistic shit that I am now. In my younger days, I was a much happier guy. I've always struggled with depression, but that's a separate issue. My general outlook on life was brighter. My view of the world was much more positive. I was, in general, content. I miss being that guy.

      I spent the rest of that morning reflecting on what could have possibly been the cause of my shift. Could there be a single root cause? Sure, since I got married 24 years ago, I don't hang out in pool halls anymore. Thanks to the stalemate in my fight to the death with my pancreas, I don't/can't drink. I gave up smoking when my kiddos came along. But, all of those things weren't what made me happy. They've all been replaced with things that give me just as much contentment and joy as any of them did.

      Once upon a time, I harbored dreams of amassing wealth and maybe some modicum of fame. Neither of those came to pass, but hell, a lot of people have that dream. I found that I can, and do, make a difference with people every day in almost every job I've had, and I'm good with that.

      None of those things rang out as the reason for me to be so damned angry so often, but as I continued my backward journey one thing finally jumped out as decidedly different between then and now...political awareness. As I have become more and more politically aware and more and more involved and invested in the process, I have also become more and more agitated and quick to anger.

      Add to that the last, oh, 12 years or so of people screaming at each other and the whole damned thing becoming less and less productive and more and more about thwarting any and everything the other side is trying to do. The rise of "social" media is just keeping it all in your face 24/7.

      The big question is "What do I do about it?"

      I'm still working on that.

      In the meantime, I'm also working on just keeping my big mouth shut and walking away when I feel anger rise. It's not fair to lay it out on people who didn't cause it and don't deserve it.

      Hopefully peace and contentment are somewhere ahead of me. I know my family would be glad to see it.

-Wayne