Ode to my Kadoo

The first car I ever bought was a 1986 Chevrolet Cavalier, POS (piece of shit). This car transported me and my buddies all around south eastern Saskatchewan and Southwestern Manitoba. For a couple of years, and it was home to a lot of great stories from my youth.

The trunk was packed with stereo equipment and under the hood was a special tank with a flow-line to the cab which was used as a juice dispenser. It was in sync with the windshield washer switch so when I pushed the button, the fluid of choice would pour into a cup in the glove compartment. Unfortunately, anything that foamed could not be used in this, but it was great for bush parties, I had a DJ stand and a wet bar on 4 wheels.

How it came to be known as the Kadoo is:

The worst snowfall we had seen that year came one weekend when everyone I knew was around, so we decided to rent three hotel rooms and host a party, that way no one had to drive, and we all had a piece of floor to sleep on at the end of the night. This was at the Silvermoon. Now it is common local knowledge that the piece of real-estate between the highway and the service road was called the "Silvermoon Express". It was a ditch basically, not even a really steep one, but it was fun for scaring the crap out of passengers. On a whim Ferg and I jumped in and decided to try and set a record for distance traveled through the "Silvermoon Express", while it was buried in about 3 feet of snow.

We got to the highway, that was so covered that we almost got stuck turning around, and we judged the distance it would take to gain enough speed to clear the snow wall. We had our hockey gear so we put on the helmets and seatbelts and hit er.

The entire party was sitting outside now waiting for us to get stuck in a ditch looking like imbeciles. I was going to go one better. We got to our required speed (I won't say what it was), and at the choice moment I veered into the ditch. White. All we could see was the snow flying up over the hood. I was still making forward progress and suddenly a light appeared through the windshield. Ferg yells "POST" and I slam on the brakes (not that it mattered since my wheels were basically dragging in the snow.

When the dust (or snow) settled we looked out to find we had come about 10 feet short of the target. The light I saw was indeed a post, but it was another 50 feet away.
"Damn Ferg, we cudda made er!"

We were stuck and my vehicle cleared a path in the snow where the underside had dragged all the way through. All the "experts" said that it was a miracle we got that far.

That was the night my POS car became dubbed "the Kadoo". A spinoff of SkiDoo as it would be pronounced by someone who sustained a head injury, or had a speech impediment. How fitting.

Tow No More - Jim's last day on the tow truck

Fine, but I'm going to set the tow truck on fire.

My last day on the tow-truck

I arrived at the yard just before 5 pm as usual. I had just finished a day at my regular job, and I was on call for the night. I step out of my car and one of the drivers remarked: “You’re goin long haulin!” I knew my last shift was no going to be an easy one.

Inside the office my package was ready, I was to pick up a broken down Cargo truck (a 1 ton with a box), located somewhere along the westbound highway in Michigan, and continue West to Muskegon (some 230 kilometers west of the truck’s breakdown spot), make the delivery of their cargo, take on some new cargo (for U.B.E. by the way) and return to Ontario and deliver the truck to a garage. I was not eager to leave.

I fueled up and headed for the U.S. and there near Flint Michigan was the broken down truck. I loaded and headed down the highway. My passenger; a woman who had never made this trip before, had been sitting for 4 hours before I showed up, and if you know women the same way I do, we were in need of a “pit-stop”. We drove about 60 kilometers searching for a rest area, but decided on a gas station. We pulled in and she found relief.

I started to roll out of the gas station when I hit a pothole and the truck I was towing slid out of my grasp, It was no big deal, I would need to re-adjust. Once I was pulled off to the side I evaluated the situation and started to re-load. I couldn’t help notice that I had an unwelcome spectator. The Michigan state Department of Transportation. And if you know yankee cops, they always get their man. He pulled up behind me and the lights were going. He asked why I didn’t have road flares put out to which I replied: “because I have my 4-ways on”,
“no you don’t”
“shit”

I looked at my light cord to realize there was a slight tear in my light cord. And by tear I mean the cord was severed. I turned the lights for the truck I was towing, on, and figured, that was that. Not quite.

“Sir can I have your Liscence, Registration, D.O.T. number and medical certificate?”
“Umm, medical certificate?”
“Yes sir you are driving a Commercial Motor Vehicle (CMV), and you require a Medical.”
“Umm, this is just a tow truck.”
“No sir it is a CMV.”

So I call the boss and he gives the Officer (though I had a few other names for him at this point) the necessary information.

He says:
“Ok, I’m going to turn you loose, here are some papers for your boss”
“Whew (AssHole)”
“Here is your license…. Sir you have a class “G” license, correct?”
“Yes (DickHead)”
“Sir you are not licensed to operate this vehicle”
“What (You Mother F@#$%R)”
“Sir, I am pulling you out of service, you can not operate this vehicle”
“F!@#$K”
So I call the boss and he simply says “I strongly disagree”. Wow, I feel better, so what now? He gets in his car and heads in my direction. The Colossal Prick plants his lard ass in his vehicle and starts scribbling. I decide to fix the wire and re-load for the boss who will be taking my tow for me. So I get the wire fixed and as I re-adjust my load, the Hydraulic lever goes limp. I can’t move my winch cable. Jim’s getting upset.

I am under the truck, covered in hydraulic oil (which was dripping from the manifold (warm to!)) when deputy DipShit comes over.

“Here is some info for the boss, And a fine for you. I need 100.00 US cash or I’ll take your license until you pay the fine.”
“How much?”
“Not sure sir, you’ll need to contact this number and pay the fine and we’ll send your license to you.”

Jim is not a HappyGapper, he is an AngryOntarian. I start into a list of expletives that would have made Ricky from the Trailer Park Boys blush. He says: “Have a nice day sir.” And he leaves me there covered in hydraulic oil half frozen from the 25 degree drop in temperature from 29 degrees we had the day before. I am a dirty cursing oily angry man.

So I waited for the boss to arrive and tried to clean off some of my sludge at the gas station bathroom. At about 11:30 PM Boss shows up and I inform him of the fine. Boss was not impressed. We checked the load again and he was on his way. I turned back to home.

I got home at 2:30, very tired and very grumpy. Not only did I get a fine, but, I likely won’t get paid for the tow I never did. Which is fine because as Milton said on the movie "Office Space": I'll set the building on fire". I am done driving tow truck today, and I could care less.

Luckily I had Eeyore calling me to let me know that he was home curled up on the couch with a cold beer and a loving family surrounding him. He also encouraged me to write my blog today and let the white smoke rise from the chimney of chez Jim to symbolize that a new Hapless Donkey had been elected, and truly, I was the only reasonable choice. Move over Eeyore, there’s a new Jackass in town.

Goin home

I'm travelling to the land of living skies in June. SlyDogJames is getting married and I plan on golfin and relaxing.

I'm looking for stories on dog travel, I want to take Jackal back with me but Wife has some reservations. Has anyone ever heard of good/bad things that happen to dogs while in flight? It's only a two hour jump at night, I figure the ol pup will just sleep.

Other than that I had to revise my itinerary to make sure I'll be back for GodDaughter's b-day, she'll be two! Last year's highlight was split between "Uncle" Jim wrestling with the children in Eeyore's pool and the second was the picture of Eeyore himself sittin in a kiddie pool in the backyard with a beer in one hand helping all the children slide down the 1.5 foot slide. Quite a sight.

Eeyore's dad cooked all day, so we ate more barbeque than would likely be recommended and drank more beer than an alcoholic would recommend. So now you know why I'll be back for this year's celebration.

Some Feedback

It turns out some of my readers are funny too! I love these:

This from "WhiskeyPete". (hoping to make him a regular contributor, oh and if you don't get what he's talking about ***goat*** we mimick an Adam Sandler bit everytime we converse. Y'know "de f#$^ing goat on the truck with the tree foot rope, de moshpitting etcettera, oh and the old man that beats the shit out of him with a stick." Good night ol man....... Good night.

Hey Goat! How's it going pal! Long time ne pas de conversation! You know, I just spent an hour reading some of the stuff on your website and I nearly pissed myself laughing! That is some awesome shit! So how's it shakin?? How is Wife? How you both are good and all that shit. Me I'm just waiting to move into my new shack. That's right! Condo livin for Geo! I got wall to wall and a Goldfish. I'm set. Move in is April 30. Workin hard, got the promotion and shit, finding some time to spread a little love around those blessed ladies good enough to sleep with me. Waiting for Bob and Kat to make their way down for a visit in may when they get back. When you gonna be back this way??? Let a brother know and I'll make er back for a backroad bevy or 7. You're maritimer wife should appreciate this, Ive forsaken all beers for the beauty that is a cold Alexander Keiths! not only do they sell a fantastic beverage, and provide countless moments of commercial viewing plesure, but they're sold, COLD at the LB, in 8 PACKS. For when 6 just ain't enough to get ya where you're driving to and 12 is illegal, snag an 8 Pack! God Bless the pride of nova Scotia and anything associated with the Maritimes. Well time to hit the old fart sack pal. Take er slow and keep up the good work on the happy gapper!

Wheels wrote:

I just read your latest and greatest. Is it appropriate to belly laugh during a meeting with your boss for no apparent reason. Maybe I'll see you on the links this weekend

Jim's Apartment

Jim’s apartment

Let me tell you a tale of the shittiest little hellhole I ever lived in.

When I first moved to town, I was given 5 days to find an apartment. My situation was a little odd, because I was moving away from my wife who had a job that would allow her to transfer, eventually.

I was in the market for a small one bedroom apartment with no lease, all inclusive, and in decent shape. It would seem the first two criteria were most important. I looked at a few places around 600.00 per month, but they all required a minimum of 6 month lease, since I had no idea when my wife would be here, I wanted to be able to up and leave when she got here.

It was on my 4th evening that I found an ad for a 400.00 per month basement “suite” with utilities included, close to my new job and with no lease. This sounded way too good to be true, and for a reason. I agreed to meet with the lady and look at the apartment. It was in the basement of a house that had been made into 4 apartments. Mine was at the bottom of a concrete stairwell where bugs and rain gathered, unable to escape.

“Mind the water Hun”

I didn’t mind the water, it was the beetles and dead flies floating in this stagnant water that had accumulated from the rainfall we had 3 days earlier.

“The drain needs to be cleared”

Not that she was going to do it; this was a suggestion for me to look after, if I moved in.

So through the thin, low doorway we went. The ceiling was 6 feet and 2 inches from the floor, and since I am 6’1… without shoes, I had to walk around in a crouch. The place stunk of smoke, and it was filthy, the bathroom was really dirty.

****Note to do it yourselfers, hanging ceiling is a poor choice for non ventilated closet sized bathrooms. ****

I knew time was short and that this was about all I was going to find for that price with no obligations, so I paid the first and last month’s rent and it was settled. I am gonna be a basement dweller. The first order of business, bug spray and a drain snake.

On the fifth day I went to the store and got the most corrosive noxious chemicals I could find and started cleaning, I scrubbed the place over twice and managed to make the walls white again. I vacuumed and windexed anything that I could reach, which, thanks to the 6 foot ceiling, was everything. Finally I felt like I could stay here. I got my things together and piled them into the place. I decided I only needed one room for both bed and living room so I set my air mattress in the living room and set the TV up. Lucky me, cable was left on, I could watch the Roughriders play.

Over the weekend I got the computer set up and sprayed the bugs. It seemed ok. But there was a presence in this apartment that could not be killed by Raid or Bug B Gone. I named him Fred.

Stay tuned for “Wife’s first encounter with Fred”, and “The bowl that warmed my arse while I made poopy”.

Stick a fork in me... I'm done

I went golfing this weekend and got burnt. The back of my legs are as red as a tomato and they hurt. I shot a 99 and proved that the reason I sucked so bad last year was because of my Wal-Mart clubs (yeah right).

Eeyore, Yankee-Doodle and I played 18 holes at the club we joined this year. It was a bright sunny day and the beer was flowing. We got to the 18th tee off and in usual JIM fashion I decided to go for the green on a par 5. I brandished my mighty driver and teed the ball up high. I brought the club back and with a mighty grunt brought the club down on the ball. Contact!

I barely got to watch the trajectory of my ball because al I made contact a strange thing happened. Something flew out in front of me just as I was into my follow through. The button from my Columbia shorts was lying beside the tee. I was without button.

The sad part is that the drive wasn't even that impressive; at least not button popping impressive. We had a good laugh as I waddled down the 550 yard fairway trying to keep my clubs, beer and shorts off the ground. Eeyore didn't even offer to let me borrow his belt for some extra support (go fig). I wouldn't have either.

Back at the 19th hole Eeyore's treachery continued as he "accidentally" added 20 strokes to Yankee Doodle's score. Sad part is; poor bugger never even questioned it until a quick glance at the scorecard showed that 140 was a bit excessive.

Fun time for sure, later that night we played a battle of the sexes game of trivial pursuit, where the men defeated the women (twice) and the smell of defeat hung heavy in the air... Or something did anyway.

The next morning it took me an hour before I could walk properly, because the skin on the back of my legs had shrunken and the feeling of burnt stretching skin made me want to stay seated all day.

Fun and games 4th installment

Pump Jack bareback rodeo

Actually this is more of a story than Fun and games.

Required; Pump jack; two or more participants or witnesses; 6 or more beer per participant.

Goal: To mount a moving pump jack and straddle it, and move closer to the head. The one who gets furthest down the beam, without chickening out, wins. A dismount without shutting off the pump jack is automatically considered for the "Plays of the week" or for evidence.

Rules: There are really no ways to cheat here, but there is to be no throwing of beer cans at the cowboy. I repeat throwing beer cans at the person riding the pump jack is not cool! Each witness/player must know where the emergency shutoff is. Oh, and leaving someone on the steed for longer than they wish, while funny, is frowned upon.

Though I only tried this once I can tell you that those suckers move a lot quicker than you think and moving towards the head? Forget it, that's just stupid!

MSN messenger, and so many memories

I love the messeger service with MSN. I talk with Junior, Pokey, SlyDog and more recently Boner, just enough to make me feel like I still know what is going on in their lives. Yesterday I added a few more contacts, "AJ" and "Whipersnitch", both friends of mine from highschool and the following few years, until I moved away to school. It was awesome to see what had changed.

AJ is still AJ, and we will likely meet up at "SlyDog's" wedding, but there will be no Quad borrowing or pump-jack rodeos. I am way too grown up for that... I think.

My teen years were just like anyone else's, but I think we may have gotten away with a lot more than we should have. Most of my mischief was coupled with alcohol, a pinch of Red Man and my good budies SlyDog and AJ, not to mention Ferg. Ferg was like the fat kid on the movie "Stand By Me", not that he was terribly huge, but he was afraid of everything.

It was summer, baseball was in full swing and our (then) girlfriends were playing in provincial championships in a neighboring town. We attended the games (usually with a dozen Red Dog) and were usually pretty entertained. One weekend we decided to hang out at home. I got a phone call a 3:30 Friday afternoon, it was AJ:
"Jim, whatcha doin?
Not much, why?
Come to my place, I have a surprise,
Huh?
Just come over, pick up "Botch" (also know as SlyDog)
OK, be there in 15"

I jumped in the car and drove to Sly's, I asked him what the hell AJ was up to, but he had no answers either. We pulled up to AJ's. He lived on a farm outside of town.
"Well, what's up?
Just wait, come with me."

we walked across the road and to a small set of bins (grain storage buildings) and there were 5 parked four wheeler ATV's (Quads). It would appear there was a seismic crew working near AJ's and they had left their equipment for the weekend. we investigated, and sure enough the keys were gone and we were out of luck. AJ, then pulled the seat up on one of the machines, and voila. The key to the Quad. We looked through a few more and sure enough, we had ignition.

There was a brief pause as we contemplated the situation. Half a second later we were chasing each other across a field on our commandeered vehicles. We rode them for about a half hour and replaced the fuel and parked them in their places.

That was that, a fun little joyride.

Evening fell and AJ called again, and asked if I wanted to go swimming at his place. So away I went, we got a few Red Dogs and splashed around for a while, I then suggested we go for a little cruise over to "Conan's" on the quads, well it didn't take much to get AJ onboard, so we hit the road. Once at Conan's we used the winches on the machines for tug of wars and we pulled farm equipment all over Conan's yars. Then we decided we had best return the machines, fill them and clean them, and never speak of it again.

The next day, we hit the road again, this time to a ball game about 50 kilometers away (stupid stupid stupid). We drove cross country and through gravel pits and made great time. We watched a few games, refuelled and headed home. Then something happened to scare us out of this pattern we had unwittingly fallen into. A police cruiser pulled up alongside of us as we were making our way home. He slowed to our speed (he was on the highway, we were in the ditches). I shit my pants.

He followed along for a while, just long enought to make me think "Run for it? Take the punishment? I'm a dead man."

Then the cruiser left us behind and he was gone. I had soiled myself.

We returned the machines to their spot, filled, oiled and cleaned them and thanked god. That was the last time we "borrowed" anything. We were scared shitless for a week, waiting for a policeman to come to school and haul us off.

Looking back I would probably have killed my kid if I had found out that he had pulled that stunt. But, in my defence I think just about everyone has done something stupid and gotten away with it. Some more than others... Stay tuned!

I'm Back Baby

Well after the busiest week I've had in a long time I am good to go.

Last week was filled with;
Towing, program devellopment, a beer, 30 hours of overtime at regular job, 39 hours of being on call at tow truck job, a beer, a near house purchase (for Eeyore and S.O.L.), and a skitzo dog.

It was a little hectic to say the least. And there was a serious lack of Beer.

I also managed to almost blow up my damn BBQ again. Think I'll stick to the George Foreman grill. The dam thing was spewing flames from underneath and it destroyed my ignition switch... Again.

This week is going to be pretty laid back. I forecast some golf, beer, beautiful weather and a Barbeque at some point in the next week. (Those orange smock wearin bastards are gonna replace the lemon they gave me, or I'll send Wife after 'em! (Her family crest is a raised fist with the slogan "I wanna speak to the manager"). It's good to be on her side.

So now I must get to the business and prepare a week full of posts and digs at Eeyore, who is about due to make us all laugh.

PS, a special mention of my friend "Tom Cruise" for his amazing work last week. If anyone needs a custom computer program created from scratch I know the perfect guy. And he works cheap! He's the only person I know that out-worked me last week, I'm talking likely 90 to 100 hours of work last week, and the time he wasn't sat at his machine he was thinking about it. Hope Saturday was a good one!