In years past, I regularly worked on our vehicles. It was an economic necessity. As a lower enlisted man in the Navy, I simply didn’t make enough money to pay someone else to work on my car. Hell, I could barely afford to do it myself.
With each newly acquired vehicle, I purchased the appropriate Haynes Repair Guide and learned my way around the car. I replaced alternators, starters, shock absorbers, brake pads and rotors and performed my own tune-ups. Once you gain a sense for how a car actually works, it really isn’t very difficult. But it can also be insanely frustrating. Lacking an expansive toolbox, I scraped plenty of knuckles, stripped plenty of nuts and swore and cursed enough to make my sailor buddies proud. Fucking cars.
Anyway, Jen drives a 2000 Volkswagen Jetta nowadays. Back when it was new and under warranty, we naturally sent it to the dealer for service. But once the warranty expired, Jen continued to insist on dealer service, believing it to be head and shoulders above the rest.
Until they droped the ball, that is.
For some reason, I’d always believed repair shops to be full of crooks and con artists just waiting for the next sucker. And, in my mind, “Authorized Dealer” repair shops were the worst. After one $600 repair bill after another (no matter the symptom), I think Jen came to agree with me. Bloodsuckers, all of them.
In my eternal quest to avoid dealing with scum, I’ve taken to paying cash for my vehicles, always used. Naturally, I maintained them as well. But as I’ve gotten older, I’ve lost interest in sticking my head under the hood, even if it means keeping more of my hard earned cash.
Recently, my 1997 Jeep Grand Cherokee began to act up. As I sat at stop signs and traffic lights, the transmission slipped out of gear. Most times, it corrected itself once I hit the gas. I quickly realized that if I shifted to neutral, I could avoid the delay altogether. I *knew* the jeep needed to be serviced, I *knew* I couldn’t do it, but I *still* dealt with the inconvenience, not to mention the risk of costly repairs later on, rather than drive down the road to see my arch nemesis, the car mechanic. When it began to slip out of gear at speed (meaning, while I was moving), I was like “Uh oh….”.
Almost simultaneously, the Jeep began to stall randomly. Just as with the transmission issue, it acted up mostly at rest, with an occasional stall at speed. Stalling while in motion is no joke. That’s when I swallowed my pride and called Jen’s mechanic, who’s actually a pretty honest, trustworthy guy.
Having said that, I think it’s pretty clear that today’s mechanic relies upon the ever-present computer to tell him what’s wrong. This case was no different. He pulled the diagnostic codes and made his recommendations. There were two issues, an unrelated sensor issue (Evaporative Emission Control System Purge Control Valve Circuit) and the ignition coil. He explained that the ignition coil could cause the stalling issue, by interrupting spark. It sounded plausible, it really did. And besides, the computer said it needed to be replaced. $400 later, I was rolling out of there, content in the fact that I wouldn’t be left on the side of the road.
From there, I took the Jeep to Capitol Transmission, in Hartford. They found that the transmission issues were caused by leaking transmission fluid cooling lines. Thankfully, I didn’t need a transmission rebuild. $300 and I’m outta there. I was generally happy with the whole experience.
Two days later I was on the side of the road, on the phone with AAA.
I’ll save the rest of this story for a follow up post, mostly because I’m tired of typing. Don’t touch that dial.
Wow, check this pair out. I think I am officially a fanboy.
They have a sort of odd story: a couple Mexicans with a background in the metal scene go to Dublin, of all places, hit it big there and have now come back across the pond to critical acclaim here in the states.
He’s good, but she is just amazing.
Here they are on Jimmy Kimmel Live performing ‘Diablo Rojo’:
Here they are performing ‘Tamacun’ on some overseas tv program:
Check out this video of airplanes landing at the airport in St Martin. When I was in the Navy, my buddies and I sat on this beach and watched them come in.
In the video, you can see all sorts of tourists standing around, amazed at the proximity of the incoming planes.
When we were there, it was just a bunch of guys on the beach and it went more like:
“Wow, that runway comes all the way out to the……………HOLY CRAP!!”
Tonight, the Travel Channel showed the Madrid episode of Samantha Brown’s Passport to Europe. She toured the city, as she tends to do, and hit the usual spots you see on any travel show, places like the Prado, Retiro Park, etc.
Then she went into the food, glorious food. A big deal was made about the fact that the Spanish eat dinner at 10pm or so, preceding it with tapas and drink. Jen and I salivated as Samantha sampled chorizo al vino, calamares, and croquetas, then followed that up with a huge dish of paella.
However, the bit that moved us to act was about a favorite treat of ours when we are in Spain: Churros con Chocolate!
As soon as the segment was over, Jen asked me to find a recipe online. I did as I was told and found this (reproduced below after the jump, in case the site disappears). But then I took it to the next level; I said let’s make some now! Since fried carbohydrates covered in sugar accompanied by the thickest hot chocolate you’ve ever seen makes perfect sense at 9pm, I ran out to get a couple ingredients and voila!
If you’ve never had it, the chocolate is a thick, viscous beverage. I can’t really drink the stuff. As a matter of fact, I don’t recall ever finishing a cup, and tonight was no different. I tend to use it for dunking the churros into, as this is where it shines. Mmmm. See how it coats the spoon? We’ll be making this again.
While in Spain, Bri and I had it last in Santiago de Compostela, Galicia, Spain, next to the second-oldest hotel in the world (yes, we stayed there). In 2004, we enjoyed some in Barcelona on Las Ramblas. It was awesome, but we were essentially ripped off, having been charged just under $30 for two servings of churros con chocolate, two orange juices and a serving of toast (or something similar). Ah, the memories.
One week ago, we arrived at Bristol Hospital with butterflies in our stomachs in anticipation of finding out the sex of the baby. Bri and I were *really* hoping for a boy. We thought Jen hoped for the same, but afterward she admitted to having secretly wanted a little girl.
When Jen was pregnant with Bri, three ultrasounds ended with no determination of sex. Arrgh!
Even so, almost everyone we knew had been convinced Jen was having a boy. They’d all used various old wives’ tales to come to that conclusion. Jen’s carrying high (or was it low?). There was a glow about her, that only happens when it’s a boy, everyone knows that! It’s obvious!
They were wrong. All of them.
I knew it because I’d had a dream and in this dream, she was a girl. There were no details beyond that. But when I woke up, I was convinced. We didn’t even consider boy names from that point forward. (I’m not normally this superstitious. Or at all. I don’t know what came over me.)
This time around, events played out in much the same way. (There is one pretty big twist, but I’m not going to write about that today. Maybe another time.) Once again, everyone predicted a boy. And once again, I did not.
After an agonizing 20 minute examination where the ultrasound lady measured every little body part, she announced that it was a boy! Jen was disappointed that she didn’t bother to show us a penis, but I was so excited I didn’t bother to do a proper verification.
In any case, we were very excited to have arrived at this milestone.
Having already discussed the possibilities, it allowed us to settle on a name: Santiago Jose Rodriguez. We’ve continued the tradition of taking a family member’s first name and using it as the middle. Bri’s middle name is Margarita, after my father’s mother. Jose is Jen’s father’s name as well as that of Jen’s great-grandfather on her mother’s side. I love the fact that the entire name can be pronounced in both Portuguese and Spanish.
While in Spain last year, Jen Bri and I stumbled upon a performance of traditional Galician dance. Jen, having been part of the Portuguese Club’s Rancho Folclórico, was ecstatic at having found something so similar yet so distinct from the portuguese style of dance.
Galicia is the region of Spain directly north of Portugal (see below). As you might imagine, the language, customs and cultural identifiers are similar to that of Portugal.
But surprisingly there is a Celtic influence in Galicia. It is evident in some of the food, even in the name of the region, but most of all, in Galicia’s music. You can detect obvious similarities to Celtic music through the use of bagpipes and other instruments I can’t name, but simply sound Irish. (Admittedly, Celtic is not synonymous with Irish, I’m just making an observation here.)
Getting back to the folkloric dancing, the Celtic influence is also readily apparent in the footwork and the costumes of the dancers. The dancers lifted their feet and performed turns which distinguishes this dance easily from that of the Portuguese to their south. One set of male performers even wore wooden shoes! I’m not sure if that is a Celtic trait, but it certainly separates them from the Portuguese.
Bri and I enjoyed it as much as Jen, although I think for slightly different reasons. In any case, I’m posting the first of several videos here, after the jump. I apologize for the low quality, but I only had my digital camera with me when I decided I wanted to record the performance for posterity.
This is turning out to be quite a year for our household!
Earlier this year, Jen learned that she was being inducted into not one but two(!) honor societies! Her major is Elementary Education, so she was invited to join Kappa Delta Pi, the Honor Society in Education (picture above, thanks to Tina).
Jen is minoring in History and so was also invited to join Phi Alpha Theta, another honor society. What a geek!
As many of our friends and family are aware, we are in the process of buying a house. We expect to close on May 25th and can’t wait to move in. The house is part of an estate, being sold by the daughters of man who recently passed. As you might imagine, there is plenty of work waiting for us, but nevertheless we are all super excited about the move.
Well, except for Bri…..but she’ll get over it, because…… Jen’s pregnant!
We found out on Bri’s birthday, so it was only natural that Bri announced it to the family at her birthday party this past Saturday. Most people were shocked, presumably because they’d all given up on us having another kid. But I shocked all my critics and pulled it off in the end!
Naturally, it’s much too early to know much more that the due date, which, for now, is pegged at Dec 17th. This is going to be a December baby, just like me. This is my big opportunity; I’ve been given the chance to right all the wrongs of my childhood. This kid’s gonna receive two gifts! One for his birthday and one for Christmas! bwaaahahaha!
Anyway, we don’t find out the sex until August sometime. I don’t know how I’m going to hold out. And for the record, I’m cool with either. But I would love to know. Three more months is going to kill me…..
But I shocked all my critics and pulled it off in the end!
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