Friday, 3 February 2017

I'm a car guy

"I'm never touching a car that you've worked on, they always break down"- My wife and former girlfriends credo.

There are, in my opinion two clear groups in the world: those that have a car, and those that couldn't be without one.
The former have preferences for their car. Colour, brand, fabric; tangible and tactile. They can even develop a kind love for it. But usually only until the next new thing takes their eye. A new style, a celebrity crush, the illusion of status.

I come from the later. I grew up in a house that had no fewer than eight cars at any one time. And rarely more than two of them running. Long before I ever got behind the wheel in anger I had seen crankshafts, camshafts, driveshafts, more often than not lying on the floor between my father and myself as he re-assembled another engine while I sat in fascination on my plastic prime coloured trike. I thought it was normal.
I'd watch VHS's of motor production  and see the assembly line. It all looked so familiar. I could have paused it, ran to the garage, and returned with whatever part they were currently producing, if dad would let me. From a very young age the garage was a land of intrigue. Dad would be in there, I'd hear the ratchets, the heavy breathing of muscle, blood and bone manipulating steel, alloy and iron. But I was relegated to the concrete step at the side door, or an inch behind the relief line of the garage door, or safely on the aforementioned tricycle, or if really lucky, from the front seat of the Mini Cooper S.
For good reason. I would have weighed less than one of those crankshafts leaning precariously against the diagnostics machine. And as much as mum loved dad, and could forgive much of the plague, a son dead from a falling suspension strut may have just been a straw to much.
So I watched.

Every now and then I'd be brought in. Allowed to explore the steel bins, the fastener laden roller boards. Stare in wonder at the puzzle pieces of engine and the bare engine bay from whence it came.
When I was old enough, and could convince my father I was capable, I would get the enviable job of standing on the seat of the mini and steering, when it inevitably needed to be moved around the garage to make space. A never ending game of Tetris in a crowded workshop. I would have been about five. Following dad's direction. "Right hand down, little more. Okay full left lock!"
It would be years before I got my first taste of power steering.

Our cars never went to mechanic. I was probably school age before I realised that there was actually a person that people payed to fix theirs. If something broke, family life would become a fast paced diognostic session, often lasting late into the night as the fluorescent bars flickered and ticked.

What followed would be my favourite. Trips to parts shops. Listening to dad and the car men. Stories of workmanship, rebuilds, races, tall stories and takedowns. And I got to do it all from the front seat. I wasn't relegated to backseat bandit on those days. Mum had no interest in visiting another greasy workshop, or shiny showroom. It was childhood perfection.
We'd arrive at home, proud with our treasure, and dad would disappear back into the fluorescence.

At the eleventh hour. A silence would descend. I would learn later about what went on during this quiet time. All I knew was it would get very quiet. Then a light click followed by a rapid succession of a circuit, a throw out pin, turn over, combustion and revolution. It rendered me to dumb wonder. What had only hours before been seperate and dead pieces of steel, were now alive.
Alive.

That's the other difference. For people like me a car is a living breathing entity.

And I love them.

Today my beloved finally gave up the ghost. Broke my heart. But, with a little care and attention. Will be back breathing fire in no time.

And sure, the cars I work on break down from time to time. But not from the work I've done.

Wednesday, 1 February 2017

The Trump Card

I'm going to say something that may seem ridiculous to anyone who knows me.

I am starting to feel that Donald Trump is succeeding.

I'm starting to feel that he may be starting to "Make America Great Again".

Just not in the way he expected.


I was listening to the Joe Rogan Experience where he had Henry Rollins as a guest for a chat. Listening to the two of them was a lovely distraction from my currently overfilled life; intelligent, thinking, intuiting, honest and inspiring, whilst being almost opposite in their application. Two remarkable men.

When discussing Trump, Henry Rollins brought up an argument that i hadn't really considered. Whilst Trump says 'Make America Great again' constantly, he has never really defined, to my limited knowledge of his speeches, which period of time exactly he is referring to. The 60's? Probably not. He seems one step away from being a flat earth-er, so space doesn't really seem of much interest to him.
The 80's? Possible.... but i think there were a few to many breakthroughs in human rights, medicine, and industrial manufacturing was already beginning to show the early signs of decline.

I can't help but agree with the mighty HR that trumps perfect America, may well have been the 30's. The 1830's that is. Before the emancipation.

During that period, it was the landowners (Rich, White, Male- you get the picture) that controlled America. The minimum wage as an idea didn't even exist. A landowner owned livestock; Cows, Chickens and people alike. If they had offspring he owned them too. He payed them whatever he felt like, and they were expected to be happy. They had food, water, accomodation. If they behaved as expected they didn't get beaten. I know. What's not to love! And there wasn't a need for universal health care. If a worker was sick, there was a good chance they'd die soon so, you know, one less mouth to feed and all that.

Trump has shown in his private life, that he just isn't cut out the be a billionaire, AND, play by the rules. While scandals involving Richard Branson have been few and far between, Trump has failed miserably. He would fit perfectly into the 1830's. He refuses to pay contractors agreed amounts, has lawsuits brought upon him by former staff, and despite being born supping from the golden spoon, has struggled to be continually successful, at anything.
And his 'fortune' is yet to be proven.

But in only a week, he has succeeded. He has, in my opinion, '(Made) America Great Again.

He had a dismal turn out to his inauguration. But managed to get millions all over america, of all sexes, colours and creeds, to stand up, march, and be counted in support of womens rights. It spread to every continent in the world for Pete's sake.

He has decided to attack the environment. The environmental agency's have fought back, and for once they have support.

Then he did the icing on his ridiculous, fat, red, white and orange cake; he banned Muslims.
He banned the ones that weren't a threat in the name of those who may have been. He separated American Families. He disrupted American ideals. He destroyed American lives.
Technically, he even told the Statue of Liberty, a beloved icon of American Existence, she was an out of touch liberal snowflake.
Lets not forget he didn't ban any travellers at all from the countries that have actually managed to enter the US and take lives. That may have disrupted his business ventures there and you know what they say about the hand that feeds you.
So its become clear that he doesn't like Muslims. But only the poor, the tired and the huddled masses. The ones that have enough money to be of interest to him seem, at least at this stage, to be fine.

But the people have responded, the artists have responded as well, but the people. The people have RESPONDED. He has turned America into a country that is showing its values. Where even those that for years have sat safely in the center, watching it all unfold with healthy disinterest, they have had to ask themselves where they actually stand on the issues. Even they have drawn the similarities between modern America and 1930's Germany. With a couple of subtle differences.

Hitler loved Art, Music, Film and Science.

What does Trump love, other than himself?


Tuesday, 3 July 2012

A Southerly Trip... Pt 2

When given the option of running straight home or making the most of the trip, my wonderful wife and i decided to take the long route. It was definitely worth it.


































A Southerly Trip... Pt1

A truly beautiful wedding in Kiama. Congratulations Phil and Vivien.