Suggestions Needed

Okay, truck nerds, it’s time to show off your brains.

1. Mike says to use some sort of moly oil in this truck. I was thinking Amsoil or something similar, but he has had a number of diesels, so I can’t discard his suggestion. Opinions? Also, I’m wondering if I should go with the heavier maintenance schedule, because I drive short trips.

2. Tires. The front tires are a little thin, and I don’t think they’ve ever been rotated. I’m going to have to replace them OR get a whole set. Maybe two is the way to go. If not, I’m considering General Grabber HTS tires. I realize you’re supposed to pimp out a 4×4 with weird knobbed tires, but I have no plans to drive on dirt any time soon (nor snow), and I think a good all-weather, all-terrain tire makes more sense. Consumer Reports and the Tire Rack people rave about these. The load rating is E. Okay?

3. Do I need an extra fuel filter? I assume Racor or somebody makes a filter that will fit this truck. On boats, adding inline filters avoids a great deal of grief.

4. Gun racks. Anything you would recommend, or should I just drive to Bass Pro and look around?

It’s embarrassing to admit it, but I have a brand-new Alpine tuner and CD changer I never put in the Thunderbird. I’m wondering if I can make it work in the pickup. It’s an old model, but it will play MP3s. I was going to give it away, but dang, why not use it?

Someone suggested putting coffee in the truck to kill the smell. That sounded brilliant, so I put a handful of coffee in a pillowcase I don’t like, tied a knot in it, and put it on the dash in the sun. I also Febrezed everything.

Looks like I’ll be going with GEICO. Their rate is a little lower than Progressive, and they’re not liberal freaks, and they’ll discount my bike policies.

As soon as the GEICO guy calls back, I’m off for a drive. I don’t even care about the traffic. I just want to take this monster out.

Large & Red

The baby is home. The mechanic said the only problem he could find was that the front brake pads needed to be replaced. He said the body work was excellent, apart from the dubious paint. That’s a relief. I was dreading returning the truck. I got him to recommend a shop to fix the paint.

I can’t get used to driving this thing. In Miami, nobody respects a turn signal from a small car. But signal to change lanes, while riding ten feet from the pavement, in a vehicle the size of a boxcar…people hit the brakes.

I think I should put a trailer hitch on it. It’s already set up for one. I have no plans to tow anything, but I think that big shiny ball will discourage tailgaters. My car’s bumper is soft plastic. No one is afraid of that. But a ball would take out a tailgater’s grille. Mike wants to send me a weight-distributing hitch. He says it will destroy any vehicle that touches it. I would take no pleasure in damaging another person’s car, but I think the sight of a big scary steel hitch will tend to keep other drivers alert.

I wonder how long it will be before I’m comfortable taking turns. As soon as the truck leans enough to make the springs move, I feel like it’s turning over.

I should go to Home Depot and buy some poop. I’ve been wanting to poop up the banana and plantain trees, but I didn’t want to put the bags in my dad’s poor SUV.

It’s just a used truck with one side that needs paint, but I’m thrilled to death with it. I can’t remember the last time I was this grateful for a possession.

Maybe I should run out and shop for a Jesus fish! I already emailed my pastor and let him know I have new hauling capabilities.

Bad cell photo:

Thanks for all the help in this protracted process.

Report Finished

Pretty soon (I hope), I will get a positive report from the mechanic, and it will be time to pick up my pickup.

I forgot to check to see whether this thing had running boards. I have been looking for aftermarket jobs I can buy. Some guy has a used set he’ll part with for around a hundred bucks.

They’re not running boards, exactly. They call them “nerf bars.” I assume “nerf” refers to the rubber stuff in the step areas.

The pair I’m looking at will fit an ’06, so I’m wondering whether they’ll work on an ’07. And I don’t know how much work it is to install them. Does Dodge provide hardware under the truck, or do you have to order the bars as an option in order to get that?

I joined a Cummins forum, and I’m asking questions.

The truck smells like a rental car. Not sure what to do about that. I can always hit it with Febreze, but sometimes that makes rental-car smell worse.

They called! Time to go hear the verdict.

The Dinosaurs are 6000 Years Old, and I am Burning Them, but Fast

Depending on how things go over the next day, I may be the owner of a ridiculous red diesel pickup truck.

I got my dad to run me to the dealership, on the assumption that I would be driving the pickup out. It was probably 20 minutes before I got to see the finance guy. He’s like the bridgetender from Monty Python and the Holy Grail. You have to get past him, regardless of whether your quest includes borrowing money.

They provided me with about a ton of forms, and being a lawyer, I read every line. This seemed to drive the finance guy insane. He was polite enough, but his manner suggested only a tiny thread of reserve was preventing him from lunging across the desk. He seemed extremely upset that I was wasting his time, which is remarkable, in an establishment where one of the primary tactics is to waste the customer’s time. I don’t make the rules, Finance Guy. I just turn them around on you to make your spleen pop.

I found a problem with one of the forms. They wanted me to swear to the truck’s VIN number, and since I had not personally verified it, I made them go get the truck and bring it to me so I could confirm it. I thought the finance guy would go nova.

I hoped my dad would give someone a stroke or a panic attack or an aneurysm or something, but he was very restrained.

I made them give me a written affirmation that they would give me 48 hours for a mechanical exam, and when I received it, I took my pen and wrote in a sentence assuring that I would receive a 100% return if I brought the truck back for any reason whatsoever. I drew a little line on it and put an X by it, indicating that the appropriate person should sign there, and I sent it back, and it came back to me initialed. I guess they didn’t like that too much, but I suppose they wanted me out of there.

We took the truck to a highly recommended mechanic, and he will have it until tomorrow morning. I had to fill it up on the way. Stupidly, I put a tankful in it. The dealer will get that if the truck fails inspection. I had to use two credit cards to fill it. The station had a $50-per-card limit. But I won’t have to fill it for another 700 miles.

The truck is amazing. It has remarkable acceleration. Because you’re so far off the ground, it’s hard to see how fast you’re going, but when I looked at the speedometer, I realized 50 mph was coming up mighty fast. I had to be careful not to get a ticket. The 3200-RPM redline does not seem to hold it back. I am no truck expert, but I think this thing has SHTF written all over it.

I hope it works out. I would rather hang myself than take it back. You can imagine what it would be like, trying to make them accept it. It will be like trying to put a diaper on a wildcat.

If the paint is the only problem, I’m home free.

I’ll have to see what maintenance it needs. The only diesels I’m familiar with are my dad’s 871s, and they take 40-weight oil. I don’t know if you can put synthetic in a diesel. I should have the brake pads checked, and I think the tires need a rotation. The wheels may need an alignment.

The truck does not have running boards. I thought it did. I suppose I should spring for some. Jumping down from the driver’s seat is already getting old.

Gun rack. I must get a gun rack. My dad did some research the other day, just for fun, and it turns out Florida has no law against openly carrying a long gun, so it may be time to put an assault rifle in my rear window.

I guess the diesel was a good move. The truck flies, and it will haul nearly anything, and the motor should outlast several bodies. Now that I know how good this motor is, I’m surprised everyone doesn’t have one. It’s a $7000 option, I think, but if you’re buying a new $40,000 truck, and you intend to use it like a truck, that’s not a terrible expense.

Now I have a means to take all the crap from my dad’s warehouse and haul it to my church. They will never get around to it. Surely they can use a two-thousand-dollar pile of new cable trays. If not, they can put it out front, and the crackheads will take it to the scrap dealer.

The day has been remarkable in one other regard. As I’ve noted, after a recent fast, I found that I no longer had a problem with gluttony, and that I had increased self-control in some other areas. I had one other positive result. I was less angry at people. This is something that had been driving me nuts. I found that I was irritated with people who had not done anything wrong, and even though it was me feeling this way, I wanted nothing to do with it. I hated it. It was fatiguing. The other positive effects I got from fasting lasted, but this one faded, and it disappointed me. Over the last week or so, I’ve been soul-searching, trying to figure out what I might have been doing wrong, to lose this.

I had several theories, but now I suspect it had something to do with the way I treat my dad. I had been allowing my sister’s situation to affect him too much. I wanted to get out from between them, to avoid taking on too much stress, so there were times when I withdrew. This morning I recalled that my grandfather had died the month after my aunt died from cancer. The cardiologist thought her death had contributed to his, by causing a stress-related ulceration inside a coronary artery. Even if I have to absorb a ton of stress, I can’t let that happen to my dad. After I thought about that and resolved to do better, the peace came back to me. I can’t tell you how great it feels. I hope I’ve found the problem.

Man, I hope that truck works out. I do not want to wade into the den of dissembling tar babies again.

Also

Marv has learned the cell phone walkie-talkie noise. We were watching “Bait Car” on the Tru network last night, and some cop was using a cell phone in walkie-talkie mode, and you know that high-pitched beep they make. One of the beeps seemed to come from the wrong direction, and when I looked in that direction, I saw Marv, looking quite smug. It cracked me up. He kept doing it; Marv knows when he comes across a crowd-pleaser. Now he knows I’ll squeeze him every time he beeps. That’s a problem.

This Will Teach Me

What is the most dependable phenomenon on earth? Death? Taxes? Toast landing on the buttered side? How about this: having a car dealer change the price after you make a deal.

Today I went down to the dealership from which I am trying my best to buy a used truck. I had negotiated a price, inclusive of absolutely everything except taxes and government fees. And I looked at the list of charges, and naturally, they had stuck a $689 “dealer fee” in there.

Am I crazy? Is there some reason why a dealer can’t make a profit without lying at every turn?

When I started shopping for a truck, I made sure I contacted the guy who sold me my Thunderbird, because he didn’t lie to me. It turned out he didn’t have any trucks I wanted, but every time I searched for something to buy, I looked at his dealership to see if something new had come in. That’s what happens when you treat customers like human beings. Isn’t that worth something to a dealer? One of the hardest things about retail is getting people to show up at your place of business. Isn’t it desirable to have people come in because they’ve already done business with you and look forward to buying from you again?

I had my dad with me, purely as a tourist. This did not help the dealer any. My dad gives car dealers diarrhea as a hobby. There was no way I was going to accept that fee in front of him. I would never hear the end of it. The salesman tried to get me to split it with him, but there was just no way. Why should I buy someone a new washing machine as a reward for mistreating me? I fail to see the logic.

I said, “A deal’s a deal,” and we left. And about a quarter-mile down the road, I heard my cell phone ring. That was the end of the dealer fee.

The salesman also said I would have to pay $450 for the tag and so on. He said the prices had gone up, and that the dealership would refund anything above what they paid the state. I was positive he was lying, but it looks like the actual fee is around $315, so–incredibly–he seems to be telling the truth. Of course, I’ll have to bring a microscope to look at the contract and make sure they’ll refund the excess.

I’ll be going back later. Then I’m taking the truck to a mechanic, and God willing, he will approve it. I’m worried that a rear door may be new. I got under the truck, and everything on the left side of the cab appears to be original, so hopefully, if the door is new, it’s the only thing damaged. The paint is somewhat imperfect, so it may be that when they fixed the bed, they had to blend the paint on the door.

Why does every car dealer on earth have to be a tar baby? Just sell me a car. Make a profit. I realize you expect to make money. But don’t commit fraud every time I walk in the door.

I think I want a vanity tag. I’ll have to think up a design and a couple of alternatives. I’d like to put something in it which reflects my religious beliefs. It’s always comforting to see a religious vanity tag. Is “religious vanity” a contradiction in terms. Sadly not, now that I think about it.

I do look forward to having the truck, aggravation notwithstanding. It should be very liberating. Can any man be complete without a pickup truck? It’s like not having a .22 rifle. It’s unseemly. Finally, I will be free of the shame.

Let’s see if I can buy it this time, without having to shoot anyone.

I Have Haggle Fatigue

Here’s the scoop on the Dodge. This is an SLT, quad cab, 2007, 5.9-liter, 30,000 miles, 4×4 Ram 2500. Not bare-bones, but not fancy. An expert gave me an educated guess about the bodywork it needs: probably around $500. I can get the truck as-is for $25,500. I may be able to get the dealer to do the bodywork if I pay $25,800. Maybe I’m better off paying a reliable shop. I don’t know if the dealer does good work, and their main business is new Japanese cars, so I assume they don’t work on Dodges every day.

My dad seems to think I’m an idiot if I close the deal now. On the other hand, I lowballed the Ford guys, and they never called back, so I realize you eventually have to give up and say yes or no.

Whatever. I’m not going down there tonight. It’s not that I’m a tough negotiator. I’m just tired.

Body Work Discount

Here is my exciting project for the day. I want to negotiate an acceptable price for the Dodge I looked at last week.

The truck has body work on one side, in front of the rear wheel well. It also has a small puncture in a painted plastic strip above the bumper. I am trying to find out what it would cost to get these things fixed correctly. This would involve repainting an area the size of a 20″ TV, plus the bumper thing. That would probably run between five hundred and a thousand dollars. I submitted a question to an Internet expert in order to get confirmation.

The truck’s resale value is also affected. Not sure how much. Maybe ten percent.

Until this morning, I was under the impression that Coral Gables might have a really irritating law requiring caps on pickup beds, but it appears that I was wrong. While researching the issue, however, I found that a cover might not be a bad idea, provided it could be gotten out of the way easily when I carried large things. My church needs help ferrying speakers (people, not electronics) around, and that means luggage, and it might not be possible to cram the people plus the objects into a pickup cab. And it rains here. A lot. So the bed is not a great place for luggage, unless it has a cover.

I found a newer Dodge upstate, for a couple of thousand more (offering price v. offering price). It’s slightly less snazzy. It’s the “Big Horn” edition, which means better than base but usually not as good as an SLT. It has the 6.7-liter engine, which has more potential than the 5.9 but also more problems. I’d pretty much have to make it illegal in order to make it work, because the factory emissions stuff was apparently designed by Janeane Garofalo, and I’m not really interested in being fined. I don’t see how it could be a problem here in Florida, where we have no exhaust inspections, but what if I move? What if I drive through another state? Do they cite out-of-state drivers for emissions problems? I don’t know. My religious beliefs make me reluctant to break the law without a good reason, and the 6.7-liter Cummins appears to be utterly useless in its original state.

The modifications to make the engine function correctly run about a thousand dollars, and that’s not very appetizing.

I guess I’ll call the dealer with the 5.9-liter and lowball him again.

Flu Lite

I have never had side effects from a flu shot until now. Last night my throat seemed to swell up, as if it was half-sore, and I felt congested. It ruined my sleep. But it sure beats a week of hell, followed by a month of fatigue.

I just heard from someone who says a pharmacist told her she could catch the flu from the vaccine. I can’t believe people spread this rumor. If the pharmacist is right, every health authority in the world is wrong. Get on the web and see. Some people get the shot right before they come down with the flu, a cold, pneumonia, bronchitis, tonsillitis, or something similar, and they run around claiming the shot gave them the flu. The shot takes one to two weeks to work. Anything you catch within that time period is not attributable to the vaccine.

I haven’t been able to get my sister to get the vaccine. Some old doctor she knows told her to stay away from it because she had recently been injected with iodine dye, and the vaccine contains a tiny amount of mercury, and he thought it was too much “heavy metal.” Sure seems better than dying because you got the flu and chemotherapy has messed up your immune system.

I wish the swine flu shot was available. I’d take three. I do not want the swine flu. By the way, in case you don’t already know it, the reason they call it H1N1 (which is ambiguous, because it’s not the only H1N1 flu) is that Muslims have decided that any public mention of pigs is forbidden. For non-Muslims. For everybody. They get to make the rules, because people are afraid they’ll get blown up if they don’t toe the line. What a great attitude. I should start threatening to blow people up when they won’t obey me. I could get all sorts of discounts.

I dimly remember a time when bad behavior was punished, not rewarded. But I guess the people who advanced that philosophy have all been blown up by angry Muslims. Yet Janet Napolitano thinks I’m the big danger, because I have a shotgun and a Bible.

I’m starting to wonder if a major health crisis is on the way. I think God prepares his people for things, and here I am, growing bananas and plantains and storing beans and meat and canned fish. And we’re not having hurricanes, which would be a threat to frozen food. There must be a purpose for all this, beyond being cheap. If the swine flu mutates and starts killing large numbers of people, immunization will be impossible, and the best way to survive will be to stay home. That means storing food.

If my trees start paying off the way they’re supposed to, I’m in for a massive banana and plantain harvest in the near future. This would be a big help in a crisis. It’s hard to think of anything that is better to have on hand than bananas and plantains. They’re loaded with fiber. They’re high enough in calories to make them a good survival food. They’re incredibly versatile.

I wonder what else I could grow here, in the fungus and malicious bug capital of the world. Yuca, maybe. Calabazas.

Church was phenomenal last night. It was all about confession, which is a major feature of the teshuvah and atonement season. Protestants don’t seem to be big on the notion that confession has to be between people. The New Testament says something about confessing sins to each other, but the Old Testament is full of stuff about confessing directly to God. I suppose confessing to others as well as God may be a better way, depending on whether it will ruin your life. Some people will take your confession and turn it against you. People are not as forgiving as God. You could end up in jail or in some other kind of trouble. I am not sure God wants us to subject ourselves to great risk by confessing.

These days I worry about schadenfreude and unjustified anger. I once felt annoyed with a crippled person for delaying me by crossing a street in front of me. I am pretty sure this person did not become crippled in order to inconvenience me. At times like this you wonder what’s wrong with you.

Anyway, the pastor had everyone come up and kneel in front of the stage, for a session of repentance and prayer. It was a huge success. I can only imagine what it will be like today, with much higher attendance.

Every day this week, they’re having a one-hour event at noon, celebrating atonement and repentance. That ought to be good.

Last night, they blew a shofar in church. Things are so different, now that some Christian denominations realize they don’t have to preach replacement theology or outright anti-Semitism. Next weekend, they’ll blow it again, I think. They’re going to have a one-day fast, from 6 p.m. Saturday until 6 p.m. Sunday. That’s a day earlier than the Jews. Yom Kippur starts on Sunday night, and Jews will fast the next day. We’re not getting it quite right, but being Gentiles, we don’t have to.

I watched Robert Morris this week, and he said something interesting. He explained the Bible verse that says the Holy Spirit convicts us of righteousness. He says that means it helps us realize we are in right standing with God. Over the last few weeks, I’ve had an experience like that. I’ve gone to church and heard a powerful message about something that is no longer a big problem for me, and I’ve had the sense that I was doing okay with regard to that issue. I’m always nervous about feeling like I’ve arrived, but sometimes it’s okay to admit you’ve gotten past something. I think.

He also said the Holy Spirit is not weird. I assume that was intended for people who roll on the floor and bark like dogs and claim the Holy Spirit is making them do it. He said that if you act weird in church, it probably means you’re a weird person in your own right. Makes sense to me. I think that if you parade around making funny noises and jerking and twitching in front of a congregation, it probably means that if you were not a Christian, you’d be sort of like Meat Loaf or Alice Cooper. The same way some of the “Davidic worship” guys might otherwise be female impersonators.

I really look forward to sleeping tonight.

SCORE!

Okay, keep this to yourselves.

The Walgreen’s at Bird Road and US 1 has flu shots. Hurry.

Prosperity is a Lot of Work

I must have 25 bags of frozen lime and key lime juice now. I wanted my trees to be productive, but I’m starting to wonder where the juice is going to go.

I just put away five half-cup bags, after slicing and freezing a Costco beef loin. I’m turning into my grandmother! I have a pressure cooker, I grow food, and I’m considering learning to can. What next? Knitting?

You have to be a good steward. That’s the pitch. Back in the 80s, they used to say God would bless you with prosperity and health as long as you sent Jim Bakker and Robert Tilton enough money. It didn’t really matter what you did the rest of the time. And of course, it did not work. Oddly, God did not reward people for buying evangelists purple Bentleys and mink toilet seat covers.

These days, the message is somewhat more balanced. Give alms; don’t just send checks to questionable TV preachers. Repent. Pray. Fast. Go to church. Behave responsibly. Robert Morris writes and speaks about this stuff, and I think he’s right. It’s a little insulting to claim you can be a monumental jerk and get God to bless you, but it’s also insulting to say God doesn’t reward people. So anyway, I am afraid to throw out the fruit and herbs I grow, and I try not to spend like a total fool. Hence the freezing and bagging.

It seems to pay off, at least with regard to bananas, limes, herbs, and peppers. Actually, things are going very well with me in general. People close to me have it harder than I do at the moment. I can’t talk about every good thing that’s happening in my life. Wish I could.

Hey…what if I had paid more attention to my elders when I was a kid? I would have been doing a lot of this stuff a long time ago. Doh!

I’m going to try to get a flu shot now. I was going to take two friends to church, but they both got the flu. Coincidence, I’m sure. It’s not like there are any forces out there that try to keep people from turning to God. Never. Couldn’t happen.

We’re still on for next week.

I Must Decrease

I just had my weekly McDonald’s breakfast. What DO they put in this stuff? I’m positive it contains crack. I feel magnificent. Like Popeye on a spinach bender.

I can’t get over the change I’ve experienced since the fast I did a couple of weeks back. I have better control in several areas of my life, and it’s not subtle, and it’s not imaginary. The other day, I went to my church for a meeting, and I was invited to a prayer group, and I had to kill some time, so I went to Krispy Kreme. Later I told my pastor, “I worked a miracle. I had ONE doughnut.” If you, like me, are fat, you understand what I mean. Fat is what happens when you can’t stop. Something (or someone) compels you to grab that next cookie or slice or McMuffin. Sometimes you win, but over the long haul, you lose often enough to grow extra chins and require a second “fat wardrobe.” I don’t have that problem any more. It’s gone.

I started working on my weight a few weeks back, and over a fairly long time, I lost about four pounds. I did not enjoy it all that much. Now I’m down ten, and I’ve quit dieting. I used to have a thing I called “fat day.” It meant I dieted all week and ate whatever I wanted on Saturday. I don’t do that any more, because I don’t have to. I behave well enough–every day–to allow me to give up gimmicks and mind tricks. The weight is coming off because I no longer have irresistible fat inclinations.

It’s not because fasting reduces the calories I take in. I do fast once in a while, but I promise you, I can easily overcome the calorie deficit if I try. In the past, I always stuffed myself on the day after a fast, so I probably came out ahead. Muslims complain that they gain weight during Ramadan, when they fast every day. The empty days are not what make the difference for me. I just don’t have the gluttony bug any more.

I used to celebrate Saturday with a bacon, egg, and cheese biscuit, one or two McMuffins, three hash browns, and a large Coke. That’s enough energy to keep a small city going for a week. I told myself the third hash brown was for Maynard and Marvin, but I always got most of it. Today I had one biscuit, one McMuffin, one hash brown (minus bird donations), and a medium soda. And while I was ordering, I didn’t hear that familiar voice in the back of my head, screaming that I needed to order more food. I used to order large pizzas and eat them by myself. I don’t think I’d enjoy that today. Two or three slices…that, I could enjoy.

I think you can’t progress as a Christian if you set your heart on the things of this world and let them control you, and that includes food. The book of Proverbs says gluttony causes poverty. Did you know that? It’s not a good thing. It evidently carries a curse. That shouldn’t be a surprise, since it ruins your knees, your pancreas, your sleep, your looks, and your arteries. It costs you jobs, because people don’t like to hire fat applicants. It makes you less attractive, so you may have very limited choices when you marry. It can cause people to ostracize you socially. And it can even be expensive. Food and drink cost money, and so does insulin.

I love good food, but I have come to realize that I have to limit my involvement with it. To cook good food, you have to put in time. You have to spend many days preparing and trying dishes. It’s very tough to do that if you’re eating sensibly every day. Cooking will have to take a lower priority in my life.

Think about the calories you take in when you eat “normal” food. Two eggs, toast, butter, jelly, four strips of bacon…that’s enough food to get you through twelve hours, but you’re supposed to eat again in five. Add coffee with a little cream and sugar, and it’s around a thousand calories. A burger, fries, and a Coke…same thing. Then sit down to dinner and have a small steak, two vegetables, a roll, and a salad with dressing. By the time you’re done, it’s probably 4,500 calories. Fine, if you’re a lumberjack. Are you a lumberjack? I’m not.

I have to stay under about 2,200 calories per day, unless I’m working in the yard or something. That’s one decent meal, or three wimpy ones. No way around it. So I eat a crummy bowl of oatmeal for breakfast, I have something small for lunch, and then I have meat and two vegetables for dinner. That’s about all I can do. I can’t hang out in the kitchen every day, working on recipes for lasagne and paella. I can eat a little better on days following fasts, but I can’t be serious about cooking.

Anyway, I can’t believe God freed me from the fat curse. I’m like a week and a half away from wearing my “real clothes.” And I didn’t expect this; it wasn’t the goal I had in mind when I fasted. It must have been important to God.

If you want to see proof God does things for people, come see me eat a third of a pint of Haagen-Dazs. Fat people can’t eat a third of anything. They have to have it all.

This is the exciting thing about Christianity. We are a society of people with problems we can’t solve. We have diet books, relationship books, exercise books, addiction books…none of it works. We’re trying to fill a void only God can fill. The world is full of people who have testimonies about instant and permanent delivery from destructive habits and inclinations. You generally won’t get permanent solutions from Dr. Phil and Weight Watchers and AA (the secular version of AA, that is). You get temporary solutions that give you false hope. God has the real antidote.

We always assume Biblical references to salvation refer exclusively to our eventual trip to paradise, but I think that may be wrong. I think that’s just one aspect of salvation. I think deliverance from addiction or debt or anger or perversion is salvation. God rescues believers all the time. The rescue we get when we die is just one example. The last manifestation of a lifelong pattern. Why be satisfied with one part of the package, when you’re supposed to have the whole thing? Not perfect life, but victorious life. If it has been bought and paid for, why not make use of it?

I feel an urge to get out some jeans and see which pairs I can put on without making them explode. Maybe I should put on safety goggles to protect me from flying buttons.

More

I am wearing a pair of relatively thin jeans. I couldn’t resist the urge to try them on. They are on the tight side, but wearable.

This is just crazy.

Carfax Lets me Down

I’m all bummed out. I made an offer on a big red Dodge pickup, and then I found out it had been in an accident.

Everybody uses Carfax these days. There is another outfit called Autocheck. I looked at Carfax, and they didn’t have any accident information on this truck, but later I tried Autocheck, and they listed right side damage.

I went to the dealership with a magnet, and sure enough, it fell off the right side of the bed, in front of the wheelwell. I stuck my head in the wheelwell and shined a flashlight on the inside of the sheet metal. I couldn’t see anything wrong. The paint had a blister on the outside of the bed, and there were a few defects in it.

I can’t tell how bad the accident was. The rear door looks fine, but it could be new.

I guess this truck is a loser. I can have a mechanic look at it, but damaged vehicles can have all sorts of subtle problems. For example, they can drive crooked because the front and rear wheels aren’t in line with each other.

Argghh.

I Brive a Dus

Today I drove a battleship down US 1. I checked out a nice pickup.

I have been whining making perceptive and highly justified complaints about the insane cost of used trucks. I originally wanted a used truck, so somebody else would get stuck with the depreciation, but when I priced F150s and similar items, I found that people were knocking about ten percent off the new price, which is idiotic. Why pay $18000 for a truck with no warranty and 40,000 miles when you can get the full monty for $20000? But it looks like prices on larger trucks are a lot better.

I did not want diesel. I know how great it is, but I didn’t want the smell, the slow acceleration, or the aggravation of finding fuel. But I kept reading good things about the new diesels, and I finally came around. I figured if I was going to go full-throttle and get a heavy-duty pickup, I should get an engine that would last for eternity and never need electrical work. A true SHTF engine.

I can’t believe the things I read about these things. Acceleration like the (admittedly sad) American sports cars of my youth. Better mileage than my roadster. Unlimited hauling capacity. I can’t figure out what the down side is.

I’ve read horror stories about Ford’s newer diesels, but everyone seems to like the Dodges (Cummins) and the Chevys. I don’t know who makes the Chevy engines. Detroit Diesel used to be part of GM. I don’t know whether that’s still true.

Chevys are not that easy to find, cheap. Neither are GMCs. But Dodge 2500s are relatively plentiful. Their late-model diesels come in two flavors: 5.9-liter and 6.7-liter. The bigger one would be a great choice, but for the fact that the Green Weenies ruined it with a bunch of emissions garbage you can’t remove without voiding your warranty and risking annoying nonmoving violations. So the 5.9 is IT. Chris Byrne drives one. It’s hard to imagine anyone who would learn more about a truck before buying it, and he seems to like it a lot.

I found a red Dodge yesterday, with a 5.9 and four-wheel drive. I don’t really need the four-wheel drive, but I suppose it’s good insurance, depending on where I find myself living in the future. It has tow stuff, and it has under 30000 miles. I Carfaxed it. It has a little scrape on the bumper, plus some small dings on a door, but other than that, it looks very good.

I took it out on US 1, and I have no complaints. It’s very big, and parking it will be no fun at all, but it’s comfortable, it rides well, and the air conditioning survived the Miami in September test.

These guys want $27K. I think I’ll offer $24K and let them sweat. I have a mechanic lined up to look it over. It still has nine months left on the warranty, but I want to make sure the odometer is correct and so on.

I can get a 2WD model for under $20K, but it has over twice the mileage, and it was assembled in Mexico, which scares me to death. The Carfax on the other truck doesn’t say it’s imported, so maybe it was made at the Missouri plant.

Either one would be a nice change. I just don’t know if I can force myself to sell the Thunderbird. Sometimes you want to go through a drive-through without causing a scene. Maybe I should sell it and get something cheap and small for running around.

He Laughs at Your Bottled Water

I have been writing about the Forty Days of Teshuvah, which precede Yom Kippur. Today I got an email from the International Fellowship of Christians and Jews, linking to a piece by Rabbi Yechiel Eckstein. He explains the significance of repenting (literally “returning”) during the ten days before the day of atonement.

Why ten days and not forty? I forget, to be honest. I’m too tired to think. I’ll look it up.

Okay, here it is. It was originally ten days, but Jewish tradition extended it to include the prior month. Teshuvah is important. You don’t want to miss anybody. As Rabbi Eckstein points out, Ezekiel 18:23 says, “Do I take any pleasure in the death of the wicked? declares the Sovereign Lord. Rather, am I not pleased when they turn from their ways and live?”

Rabbi Eckstein also explains the Jewish belief concerning the way God determines and seals our fates during this period.

Interesting notes: Jewish tradition says man was created on Rosh Hashanah, and that the world was created five days earlier. Good thing it wasn’t the other way around.

Uh oh. Looks like the page where I got the information is run by Messianics. They quote John the Baptist (sometimes referred to by Messianics as John the Immerser, but never “John the Space Cowboy”). Aaron will not be pleased.

According to [the very non-Messianic] Rabbi Eckstein, “[T]he Hebrew month that leads up to the High Holy Days is a time when ‘the King is in the field,’ when God’s presence is more immediately accessible to us.” I did not realize that, but given my experiences in August, I would have to say that I think this is absolutely correct. I am freaked out all the time these days. I know how crazy I sound, but it’s true. Sometimes I stop what I’m doing and look up, because he’s just HERE.

All I can say is, “pearl of great price” is no exaggeration. Paul described the things he gave up to follow Jesus, using a term that can be translated as “dung.”

Regarding the tremendous significance of forty-day periods in the Bible, I noticed something new the other day. I hadn’t caught it before. Moses didn’t just fast for forty days, during his Sinai experience. He fasted for forty (no food, no water), brought down the commandments, got mad and broke them, and fasted for forty more, presumably to get God to spare the idol-worshiping Hebrews. Moses was hardcore. I can do three days, with water. After that, I figure I’m about as holy as I can stand to be.

Sorry about the Steve Miller joke.

Roasting Like a Burger Under a Heat Lamp

I thought today would be a slow day, but I ended up hauling my sister around, getting groceries and prescriptions. Her doctor phoned a prescription in to a pharmacy about five miles away, and in Miami, five miles is like fifty because of the horrible traffic. We got to the pharmacy, and the Miami-bilingual (fluent Spanish, four words of English) pharmacist said she hadn’t filled the prescription because she had not been able to understand the doctor. So we came home, my sister called the doctor, the doctor excoriated the pharmacist, and then we went back. Two and a half hours of baking, roasting road time under the Miami sun, interrupted by an hour-long break, during which we had to search for my sister’s lost car keys.

We are seeing side effects, but we don’t know what caused them. They injected dye into her on Tuesday, and the iodine in the dye makes some people sick. They didn’t hydrate her after chemo on Monday, and that makes some people sick. Her radiation oncologist was contracting a bug when she saw him, so she is worried that he might have given it to her.

I should have some semblance of a life next week, but I am not setting my heart on it.

I have a little free time before dinner. I wish I had a long enough layover to support a nap.