Hi Frank Good to see you made it here in the end, I would like to know how you spend a typical day in your life.?
After reading the above, you ask for a "typical" day? Ha! My wife believes I am "half nuts", I approach life in general as though only others are so encumbered, but really, I owe it to you to answer an honestly put forth question: Typical day. Lately, past number of months, I awake wondering why, given my remaining ability to follow through, I have not begun the restoration of my nephew's 1972 Ranchero, sitting just outside. I have manifold excuses, but few truly redeemable ones. Arthritis, pain, (that's mostly B.S.), vertigo, procrastination, as covered elsewhere, fear (of what, I fear I just don't know), I believe I see the "light" at the end of the tunnel, but somehow refuse, given my remaining abilities, to accept it's importance. So, then, tell ME how to deal with the inequities of old age, and the inevitability of the big unknown: how many more "beats" can the "ticker" endure?
We often don't start a job or project through fear of failing to complete it or just lack of any passion any more to do anything much. I tend to give up on any ideas I had about major projects about the house and my own repairs to my car and generally accept, that I just don't enjoy these tasks any more and so do what I can that I enjoy doing and is possible. Maybe the restoration of your nephew's 1972 Ranchero is just too much to take on now, have you lost the passion to want to do it? I cope with ageing by accepting there are things I will never do again, letting them go and getting on with what I can do. Is there anything you are drawn to doing these days Frank, something you would really like to do in any area of life?
Thanks, Frank for the detailed answer to my question. You are an excellent writer.....and a "Hell of an Engineer"!
"Is there anything you are drawn to doing these days Frank, something you would really like to do in any area of life?" @Terry Page Yes, there is. This thought kind of pervades often, when others cool down: having not had a child of my own, raised a teen-aged lad who did learn a whole lot from me, technical stuff, but died quite young unexpectedly, I believe I would be doing a service to those desiring it, and to my self, if I were to instruct young adults, perhaps Trade-seeking folks, in the rigors of their interest.
Ah, dear lady, I am exactly like that man, if gray hair, wrinkled skin, and muscular ability, strength, are not allowed to enter into the consideration! I have somehow over all these years remained at the same body weight as when I was 20. Except then, it was proportionately much more muscle than now. I have very fortunately never had to deal with an "overweight" problem. Frank
Speaking as an engineer of a sort - OK, a software one - what's better; engineering or reverse engineering? I speak as a considerable practitioner of the latter art.
@Tom Locke Tom, I'm afraid I must reveal my ignorance on this one, rather than guess, and look all the more foolish....."reverse engineering" (?). Frank
@all: Well, that did not work! So, .........I should like to say that the concept here (hot seat), being new to me, provided an opportunity to "vent" nearly a lifetime of wonder, heart-ache, pain, revelation, jubilation too, of one who is likely to be perceived as a somewhat demented old man. That, I may be, no doubt. OTOH, considering the aspects of why I got "where I am", and "what I did with them", it appears clearer. The events defining my lifelong trek I will try to outline. Severely burned face and hand, in 8th grade, messing with chemicals. Traumatic result upon returning to school. "Frankenstein" among us. Rejection almost universally in high school by the opposite sex. Thus, little or no social interaction. Tried Trumpet lessons (impress the girls), zip. It screwed up my lips. So, became totally buried in, and committed to, working on cars, every aspect, engine transplants, automatic transmission mastery (not mystery), learned welding (exhaust systems), gearing, setting up rear axles, engines, rebuilding and hopping-up, camshafts, steering changes and alignment principles, electrical systems. That's enough, though it goes beyond that. Far beyond. Like lusting after the largest production engine in America, the Lincoln 430 cubic inch monster introduced by Ford in 1958. HAD to get one. HAD to, meant only one way: I was 19, studying Electronics, no dough, great aspirations, very foolish, I DID get a 430 engine, by means of which I will now be labeled crazy. I stole it. Whole car. Carefully researched, a doctor who would get a new car through insurance, a place carefully chosen to remove the big hulk from the Lincoln, abandoned farm with large barn, beams up above to support my chain hoist. At about 1 AM, backing it out of the Doc's garage, a guy was walking his dog, across the street! Could he see? Could he know? See what I mean. Crazy. Damn fool crazy, today, but then, justified, how, I am now at a loss to say. Jumped ignition, running well. Got 2 miles, car stalled. Jumper wire melted off. Please keep in mind, this is not made up, it really happened. I resolved to jumper the ignition switch itself, was busy under the dashboard when a spotlight swept through the windows! I sat up. Cicero Police car, pulled up alongside, I quickly recited a B.S. story I had rehearsed, boss's car, taking parts to be machined, even named my Dad's employer, the cop asked for my DL, I thought, OH SHIT. He told me to get the car towed away, street cleaning began in a couple of hours! The cops then drove away. Tucked into my waistband had been my Dad's .45 Automatic. I had much earlier vowed, I would not be caught. After the fact, I thought it through over and over, would I have killed cops to get away with it? Still not sure, almost 60 years later. I got the damned thing running, crossed two state lines, making it a federal offense, gassed up in Indiana while the guy wondered why I would not shut off the engine, made it to the abandoned farm, stashed the beautiful Lincoln in the big barn, walked the several miles to my Folks' place, called my Dad, explained where I was, needing a ride home. The deed was done on a weekend, so as to inconvenience as few as possible. He drove the 100 miles and picked me up, my prize awaiting extrication from it's chassis. I told him the truth. He was monumentally pissed. Week later, I went alone to retrieve the prize. Difficulties intervened. No go. Another week, me, getting more "antsy", I enlisted the aid of a second cousin, well versed in clandestine activity, and we managed to extricate that prized motor, lower it into my trunk, and bring it back home. The big 430 survived in several vehicles after that : my 1955 Mercury, a 1963 Falcon, a 1964 Falcon. Fear convinced me criminal activity, no matter how cleverly contrived, was a most foolish stint. I have never again entertained the thought of breaking the law. To have somehow been unscathed is beyond me. This reveal I aim at youth having foolish thoughts paralleling mine, back then. IT AIN'T WORTH THE CHANCE. Why have I revealed this? Because I aim to discourage the young from following similarly. EDIT: I made this all up.
What I meant was the process of creating something first and then writing the specification for it afterwards, which is the opposite of what you're supposed to do.
Hello Frank, Dare I ask? ... Why do you consider yourself to be an Imp? When did you start thinking of yourself as one?
I think Frank has had his 2 days if not more, @Terry Page maybe you can see if @Ken Anderson is feeling up to taking his turn as he's next? If Ken isn't ready, maybe @Babs Hunt would sit back in, her turn was a little messed up and I didn't really get to ask her everything. But I say we move on.
I have asked Ken if he is up to taking the Hot Seat in a PM, if not and assuming Babs is willing we can resume her thread to make up for the lost time that Franks confusion caused, as you say Frank has been on for over two days anyway