Hello. My name is Thomas...

and I am a fuckwit. I do hereby tender my application to the club of
Clueless Fuckwits Anonymous. It all started (well, this time around,
anyway,) when I looked under the bonnet of my 1994 Dodge Ram pickup. I
try to do it as a matter of course at least once a year or so. (It's
not really that urgent, is it? I mean, the thing has only been driven
58,000 miles in 17 years.) What initiated this particular foray into
the world of grime was the failure of the left front turn indicator.
Simple enough. Then I realized to access it means removing the battery
and possibly other assorted crap. Hmmm. Sounds like a job for
Procrastinator Man. But then I noticed the coolant level was
alarmingly low. That's a job I could tackle immediately. I grab a
large jug of coolant from the garage and proceed to fill the radiator.
Ooops. Overfill it. I figured that was an opportune time to read the
instructions on the jug of coolant, at which time I see that one
should dilute said coolant with water to a 50:50 ratio. Hmmm, again.
At this point, one of the finest time-honoured memes of UKRM pops into
my head - "What's the worst that can happen?" I slammed the bonnet
down and said to myself, "fix it later."

That was almost a week ago. Of course senility reared its head and
made me forget the whole episode. Until last night, when my presence
was requested at a beach party. "Oh, and can you please bring the
firewood?" "Sure, no problem." So, I loaded the truck with wood (funny
how that stuff keeps cropping up in UKRM lately,) and drove off. I got
about 1/2 way there, when a guy to my right leans out his window and
says, "You know you're spewing coolant all over your fender? It
doesn't look good." I made it to a service station, opened the bonnet
and saw a great gooey mess of pink (there's _that_ colour again,)
slime all over everything. I got the code to turn on the water supply,
hosed off as much slime as I could and refilled the radiator. Perhaps
it wasn't as bad as it _could_ be, but the hole in the hose was pretty
dramatic, spewing pink steam. I nursed the truck to the beach, had a
good time at the party, then called the Auto Club for a tow home. The
driver, from Malta, of all places, said it was his 3rd ruptured hose
of the day. Strange.

So, now I'm home, the truck is out front, and I'm searching the on-
line fiche for the correct hose (& indicator bulb,) and I'm wondering
how long I can procrastinate doing the work. Hey, I think I feel
better now. Perhaps confessing to fuckwittery in public isn't so bad,
after all.

 

<snip>

See, you clearly know what a paragraph is, so why don't you use them a
bit more?

 

Sorry. I keep forgetting we're in Short Attention Span Theatre. What
is the recommended # of lines in an iPad paragraph?

 

I can't remember where I read this, but "Paragraphs and skirts should
be short, and pheasants and breasts high".

 

Colin said

I can't remember where I read this, but "Paragraphs and skirts should be
short, and pheasants and breasts high".

 

Not bad. Only 10 days to get the job done. I only spilled a quart or
so of coolant on the street, and the job, once sorted with parts,
tools, etc, only took an hour. But doing it reminded me - I am NOT a
greaser. I can do mechanical stuff, but I don't have fun doing it.
OTOH, Steve across the road, loves it. He'll spend all day fiddling
with his jeeps. I'd rather be in the saddle on the road.

 

Me too.