Attempts Successful...Kind Of

Having been electrocuted and all the extras that came with it has been, in summary, exhaustion. Even though the whole list of effects from such an interestingly extreme injury is about ninety feet long, exhaustion seems the biggest reminder now. The others are bad enough they don't deserve attention. But man alive I get tired! I mean tired!

Today I started the legendary Saturday as close to normal as I have since getting zapped. I put on my work pants, my dirty shoes and a Clydeco shirt, and headed out the door toward the fit and deserving pastime of Saturday. I naturally accessed the situation inside my drafty garage, realizing that another test drive was in order for the '27 Model T. I also justified such a move because the little car shop was a mess, and I must move cars in order to properly clean where they live!

So the job began. I started first by putting tools away. Everything I found appeared like a surprise- I honestly don't remember leaving my electrical testers and wires out, or my welding helmet on a rafter. And I didn't remember buying a generic wiring harness for the '27 which I found in its box. I had to look at it, and then I remembered. I thought, "Oh yeah, I was going to start wiring that little buggy, I remember why I bought this harness now." Weird feelings. It's like I lost contact with life for a century, and finally the memories are coming back.

And then the job progressed! And the time came to sweep the floor! And I saw the little T roadster, and felt he needed to come out in order to do a good sweeping! So I hooked him up to 12-volt negative-grounded DC voltage and mechanically pumped carbureted gasoline, and pulled that hot rod out.

I drove my hot rod, the little buggy, out of the shop and into the front yard. My neighbor's young boy called to me as he saw the car through his front screen door, and proceeded to tell how he made a goal in his little soccer game today. The funny kid then asked me what I was doing with "the buggy car." It caused an immediate grin from me. Another memory came back- this little boy originally called my '27 a "buggy car" the first time he saw it. HE came up with that- I didn't teach it to him. And my smiles kept coming. He's absolutely right-he shows the purest opinion and observance. How come adults can't tell the difference between a "rat rod" and a little buggy car? Or a real classic car verses a tricked out monster machine? Like I said, he's right. It is a buggy car. It's my beetle-bug car. And it's supposed to be traditional.

After these small moments I took a quick seat on one of my roller stools (covered in dust), in the car shop. And this "quick" break turned into a long break. I was completely exhausted. I looked at my old walls, at the Kendall Oil sign, the old ads and parts I stick all over the place for decoration. I looked at my cracked concrete floors and the shifters hanging on the wall. I got up, put away a few more tools, and sat back down again. I just sat and rested, again totally exhausted. And I noticed how drained I really was. Looking outside at my tarp-covered collection of old cars in various states of disrepair, I remembered what the little neighbor kid said. That '27 Model T is a buggy car. It's my beetle-bug. And I continued to sit, just sit there, enjoying that little boy's statement.