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Tuesday, 27 July 2004
Something fun
So, I'm sitting here thinking to myself. Which is a good thing to do when you're at work. I probably shouldn't be spending my "valuable" time in this way, but, technically, I'm on a break so it's okay.
How many times have you just wondered, how is it that people actually survive past 5 years old? You see it every day. These are what the world has come to know as the "Darwin Award Recipients".
Like this one: A guy was driving down the road in his Winnebago. For those of you who aren't rednecks and don't know what a Winnebago is, it's a recreational motorhome. Anyway, he's driving down the road and suddenly gets hungry. So, he goes into the back to make a sandwich. While he's eating, his Winnebago goes into a ditch and rolls over. Well, what Einstein did was instead of pulling over to a stop at the side of the road, he put it into "cruise control". By his estimation, the vehicle was on a straight road and would follow the road as long as he engaged the cruise control. The company that makes the Winnebago was forced to pay him a settlement and buy him a new R.V. On top of this, they had to include in the owner's manual that cruise control doesn't mean automatic pilot.
You read about crap like that every day. The papers are full of it. So is my family.
My dad is basically our Tool Man Tim. Except for the fact that he actually knows how to build and what he's taking about. He's just really clumsy. It's not to the point that he seriously maims himself. It's basically just enough to cause injury. I'm hoping that the clumsiness will diminish through the generations. My great-grandchildren might be normal. Anyway, here's a couple of bonehead things that he's done.
One year, my dad had a thing with water. Every time he went near it, something happened. Dad and I had drawn up a set of plans for finishing off the basement. All of the frames were up and the electrical, plumbing, and heating was also done. So, now came time to drywall. One of the smallest areas was in the shower. This was a task that dad decided he didn't need help with. He cut the drywall into shape, fit it in, and began putting it up. Only, he either wasn't paying attention or something because all of a sudden water started pouring out. Behind this nice, soggy piece of drywall was the water pipe for the shower.
This same year, he was trying to plumb in the taps for the sink (once again in the basement). My job, of course, was to hold the light. Which I never, as I was told several times, held right anyway. I get tired of this and head up to the bathroom. I'm sitting there and it feels rather warm. Which is kind of unusual in a bathroom. My dad had somehow mixed the pipes up and there was now hot water coming into the toilet. I think it was about 1 a.m. before we got everything hooked back up again.
Then, we're out at the lake. We weren't one of those kinds of families who could afford a cabin. We had a travel trailer. A fairly modest one. No phone. No tv. Just a trailer. In Canada, winterizing is a must. Now, you can either go to your local RV service dealer or, if you know how, you can do it yourself. Most newer trailers aren't that difficult, but ours was built in 1975.
Setting up the trailer went as usual. However, when it came to lighting the pilot on the stove, it wouldn't work. After much debate (I told dad to check and see if the gas lines were plugged), he solicited the advice of a neighbouring camper. The first idea was that maybe the regulator had gone. So, the next morning we drove for an hour to get into town and buy an new gas regulator. Nothing. Still not working. This time, our friendly neighbour had another sugggetion. Basically the same one that I had given him the day before. So, the idea was that he would blow through the lines as I stood in the "kitchen" area and reported my findings. All of a sudden, anti-freeze started to come out of the stove. What he had done, so well I might add, was to not only winterize the water lines, but the gas lines. At least it cleaned them out a little.
At the lake, again. When hooking up the services, dad always liked to bury the water hose. This way, someone would be less likely to trip on it or cut it with an axe. Well, one day some unknown person decided to pull the hose out of the ground. My dad, after swearing profusely, grabs the shovel and begins to dig. However, the spot that he happened to choose was where the water main came in for the entire camp ground. My skills were once again relegated to "holding the light" (which I failed at miserably once again). All of the water was shut down at 11 pm until a clamp could be obtained from the hardware store 1 hour away the next day.
Fun stuff. And suprising to say that it all happened in one year. I'm going to let it go for now. But I'll have to tell you about the day he drank poison...on purpose.
B
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