One Day Became Two.
There's this tree in my neighbor's yard.
I'm not a fan.
The roots run under my lawn, just below the surface, killing any chance of decent-looking grass. That's not the reason I don't like it. I really am not all that into lawn care. As long as I'm not kicking up rabbits, I figure it's manicured enough.
No, the real reason I don't like this tree is that it dumps leaves that I and the next couple houses have to rake up. If you don't, they kill the lawn you don't really care about. It's not even the leaves themselves, but rather what they represent- the end of the riding season. When this tree drops, chances are your already dwindling number of riding days can be measured on your fingers, your toes in a particularly dry fall.
This weekend the tree dropped. It had been slowly shedding leaves for a week or two, but this was a mass exodus. The entrails were spread down the street. The message was blunt and to the point. Message received.
Unfortunately, I had other projects vying for my time. I promised myself I would budget my time wisely and make sure I got saddle time as well. I lied.
I had a pile of Amazon boxes full of parts for the RV that needed to be installed. I considered waiting until spring to throw them all, but crawling around underneath the chassis among melting snow and cold mud so I can rush into early-season camping isn't among my favorite pastimes. I had to at least make an attempt to knock the pile down a bit.
One of the first projects was to remove the stereo. By "stereo", I actually mean mono, because only one scratchy speaker still worked. Thanks to the advanced antenna system employed, it had an effective range of three blocks- depending on prevailing atmospheric conditions at any given moment. The cassette player may or may not have worked, but since I chucked all of the tapes I received when I bought the thing ("Best of Polyester and Sequin Country, Volumes II - VIII), my capability and enthusiasm for verifying functionality was evenly matched. What this stereo did have in spades was a comprehensive wiring harness that required removal of the entire dash to clear out. Neat.
While I was in there, I started finding things. Time consuming things. With any older vehicle, you always do. Defroster vent hoses that were more of a suggestion than a functioning channel of air. Wires to systems long since abandoned or removed, installed by meth addicts late for their next fix. Pieces of brittle, broken plastic rattling around behind blind panels, making annoying noises that are impossible to isolate as you drive. Those sorts of time-sucking things. I think I pulled 40 yards of unneeded wire out of that dash. It was dark when I was finished, and I didn't have the energy to deal with Zwift. Day 1 killed.
The next day I replaced the ancient radio with a voltmeter and USB outlet. If I want tunes, my iPhone and a Bluetooth speaker will have to do. To be honest, I'm not much of a radio listener. When my Jeep was my only form of transport, it didn't have a radio. I wouldn't have heard it anyway, and I'm not the kind of guy who likes to share his musical tastes with everyone in a five mile radius. These days I listen to a lot of NPR, although I find myself shutting it off whenever they play a clip of the Cheeto-In-Chief saying something or someone is "very, very bad". I drive in silence a lot. Odd for a former music major, but uncluttered, unsaturated time is something I value.
To help with that goal, I also started sound-proofing the cab a bit. When I removed the three metric tons of orange shag carpet, I also removed most of the sound-deadening in the vehicle. The thin automotive carpet I installed just wasn't cutting it, so little by little I'm adding mass to make it possible to hold a conversation that doesn't involve yelling, misunderstandings due to poor lip-reading, and ultimately marriage counseling. This took more time than I had budgeted, and once again the sun dropped before I could squeeze into my spandex.
Instead, I fiddled with my dying lawn mower and got it to work just long enough for a few quick passes over the back yard, or as the wife refers to it, the Amazon. I was letting it grow just to see if it would turn into Amazon, where they grow the boxes full of parts for my RV. At least shipping would be cheaper.
Two days of fall sun, and I burned through them both without riding. The neighbor's tree laughed at me as I finished bolting on the last panel, its bare branches clicking in the brisk wind. "You just wasted two more precious days, Fatty."
I hate that fucking tree.
I'm not a fan.
The roots run under my lawn, just below the surface, killing any chance of decent-looking grass. That's not the reason I don't like it. I really am not all that into lawn care. As long as I'm not kicking up rabbits, I figure it's manicured enough.
No, the real reason I don't like this tree is that it dumps leaves that I and the next couple houses have to rake up. If you don't, they kill the lawn you don't really care about. It's not even the leaves themselves, but rather what they represent- the end of the riding season. When this tree drops, chances are your already dwindling number of riding days can be measured on your fingers, your toes in a particularly dry fall.
This weekend the tree dropped. It had been slowly shedding leaves for a week or two, but this was a mass exodus. The entrails were spread down the street. The message was blunt and to the point. Message received.
Unfortunately, I had other projects vying for my time. I promised myself I would budget my time wisely and make sure I got saddle time as well. I lied.
I had a pile of Amazon boxes full of parts for the RV that needed to be installed. I considered waiting until spring to throw them all, but crawling around underneath the chassis among melting snow and cold mud so I can rush into early-season camping isn't among my favorite pastimes. I had to at least make an attempt to knock the pile down a bit.
One of the first projects was to remove the stereo. By "stereo", I actually mean mono, because only one scratchy speaker still worked. Thanks to the advanced antenna system employed, it had an effective range of three blocks- depending on prevailing atmospheric conditions at any given moment. The cassette player may or may not have worked, but since I chucked all of the tapes I received when I bought the thing ("Best of Polyester and Sequin Country, Volumes II - VIII), my capability and enthusiasm for verifying functionality was evenly matched. What this stereo did have in spades was a comprehensive wiring harness that required removal of the entire dash to clear out. Neat.
While I was in there, I started finding things. Time consuming things. With any older vehicle, you always do. Defroster vent hoses that were more of a suggestion than a functioning channel of air. Wires to systems long since abandoned or removed, installed by meth addicts late for their next fix. Pieces of brittle, broken plastic rattling around behind blind panels, making annoying noises that are impossible to isolate as you drive. Those sorts of time-sucking things. I think I pulled 40 yards of unneeded wire out of that dash. It was dark when I was finished, and I didn't have the energy to deal with Zwift. Day 1 killed.
The next day I replaced the ancient radio with a voltmeter and USB outlet. If I want tunes, my iPhone and a Bluetooth speaker will have to do. To be honest, I'm not much of a radio listener. When my Jeep was my only form of transport, it didn't have a radio. I wouldn't have heard it anyway, and I'm not the kind of guy who likes to share his musical tastes with everyone in a five mile radius. These days I listen to a lot of NPR, although I find myself shutting it off whenever they play a clip of the Cheeto-In-Chief saying something or someone is "very, very bad". I drive in silence a lot. Odd for a former music major, but uncluttered, unsaturated time is something I value.
To help with that goal, I also started sound-proofing the cab a bit. When I removed the three metric tons of orange shag carpet, I also removed most of the sound-deadening in the vehicle. The thin automotive carpet I installed just wasn't cutting it, so little by little I'm adding mass to make it possible to hold a conversation that doesn't involve yelling, misunderstandings due to poor lip-reading, and ultimately marriage counseling. This took more time than I had budgeted, and once again the sun dropped before I could squeeze into my spandex.
Instead, I fiddled with my dying lawn mower and got it to work just long enough for a few quick passes over the back yard, or as the wife refers to it, the Amazon. I was letting it grow just to see if it would turn into Amazon, where they grow the boxes full of parts for my RV. At least shipping would be cheaper.
Two days of fall sun, and I burned through them both without riding. The neighbor's tree laughed at me as I finished bolting on the last panel, its bare branches clicking in the brisk wind. "You just wasted two more precious days, Fatty."
I hate that fucking tree.
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