Tale of Two Coffees
Or two hills.
There was only one coffee, the other was some kind of fruit drink advertising itself as composed of 95% fruit.
It's just that coffees sounds closer to the famous book title than anything else I could think of.
The Volvo specialty shop where I took the Volvo for some diagnostics is about halfway up Roosevelt hill at the top of which I used to have my shop.
I brought Fidelio along for something to do as I waited for the car.
I decided on some hill work.
First part of the trip was down hill on Roosevelt way to the Burke Gilman trail.
I had planned to cross the Fremont bridge and climb Queen Anne hill past my 3rd N. house, but when I got to the bridge I noticed some new addition to the trail and headed to Ballard and it's synonymous bridge.
Thence east on Nickerson to 3rd West, which is the easier but longer ramp to the top of QA hill.
Starbucks (get 'em while they last folks) for a tall drip and a piece of lemon cake (they call it lemon loaf... tastes the same)
And a bit of a breath catch.
Back down the hill via the curvy road that winds its way around the north edge of QA back to the Ballard bridge and B-G trail, which I rode through the south edge of the UW campus to (gosh, what's the name of the street?, 25th?) and up to 88th (where the shop was, on the corner of Roosevelt way N.E.) by way of 65th, 19th, 85th, 18th, 86th, 17th, and 88th.
Whew!
Thats where the Strawberry "smoothie" came into play.
That and a chocolate filled croissant.
It was all down hill after that back to Volvopolis, and a hundred dollar bill for services that essentially confirmed my suspicion that the car in question is getting to be what is known in the jargon of the trade as an "old piece of junk"
Sic semper volvoleum mundi.
Shut up, spell checker! Or learn some Latin!
Stats. (I know you're simply fascinated by this information (there is a surprise)
19 miles
in
1 hour 53 minutes and 50 seconds.
at an average speed of 10.3 miles per hour
adding up to a total distance of 588 miles
and, get this, maximum speed 71 miles per hour!!
I know I try to get you to believe some unlikely stuff here on FFTL, but this is not some of it.
This is just a little teeny computer getting cute.
Maybe 30 maybe 31, but no way 71... pfaugh!
On the trip up and back in the car, I noticed that they are starting to set up bleachers at Stan Sayers pit area (formerly Wetmore slough) in anticipation of the big noisy boat race. (Seafair cup){I think}
There was only one coffee, the other was some kind of fruit drink advertising itself as composed of 95% fruit.
It's just that coffees sounds closer to the famous book title than anything else I could think of.
The Volvo specialty shop where I took the Volvo for some diagnostics is about halfway up Roosevelt hill at the top of which I used to have my shop.
I brought Fidelio along for something to do as I waited for the car.
I decided on some hill work.
First part of the trip was down hill on Roosevelt way to the Burke Gilman trail.
I had planned to cross the Fremont bridge and climb Queen Anne hill past my 3rd N. house, but when I got to the bridge I noticed some new addition to the trail and headed to Ballard and it's synonymous bridge.
Thence east on Nickerson to 3rd West, which is the easier but longer ramp to the top of QA hill.
Starbucks (get 'em while they last folks) for a tall drip and a piece of lemon cake (they call it lemon loaf... tastes the same)
And a bit of a breath catch.
Back down the hill via the curvy road that winds its way around the north edge of QA back to the Ballard bridge and B-G trail, which I rode through the south edge of the UW campus to (gosh, what's the name of the street?, 25th?) and up to 88th (where the shop was, on the corner of Roosevelt way N.E.) by way of 65th, 19th, 85th, 18th, 86th, 17th, and 88th.
Whew!
Thats where the Strawberry "smoothie" came into play.
That and a chocolate filled croissant.
It was all down hill after that back to Volvopolis, and a hundred dollar bill for services that essentially confirmed my suspicion that the car in question is getting to be what is known in the jargon of the trade as an "old piece of junk"
Sic semper volvoleum mundi.
Shut up, spell checker! Or learn some Latin!
Stats. (I know you're simply fascinated by this information (there is a surprise)
19 miles
in
1 hour 53 minutes and 50 seconds.
at an average speed of 10.3 miles per hour
adding up to a total distance of 588 miles
and, get this, maximum speed 71 miles per hour!!
I know I try to get you to believe some unlikely stuff here on FFTL, but this is not some of it.
This is just a little teeny computer getting cute.
Maybe 30 maybe 31, but no way 71... pfaugh!
On the trip up and back in the car, I noticed that they are starting to set up bleachers at Stan Sayers pit area (formerly Wetmore slough) in anticipation of the big noisy boat race. (Seafair cup){I think}
Labels: It's running way too lean
posted by Lane Savant at 12:31 PM
16 Comments:
Try a new fuel pump and filter.
..........Cosmo Clicketyclack
And don't drive like your brother, eh, Coz?
What are you talking about, I dont have a brother.
......Mr. Clicketyclack to you
Hallo, Lane!
1) I didn't notice the Volvo not in its usual parking spot, except this (Monday) morning; it was back in its place at ca. noon; did you do all that in just three hours??
2) Glad to see Starbucks is closing some of its joints; go to Ladro instead (even Tilly's would be better than Starbucks!)!
Tschuess,
Anonomann
P.S. Starbucks is also guilty of supporting Benaroya, with two outlets in the building and a monopoly on the "coffee" sold inside!!
My God, sirs--I had no idea that STARBUCK'S was a fascist organization. What with 4-buck gas everywhere, and inflation killing us, and the recession upon us that no one will actually identify--no wonder no one is buying as much 6-buck coffee. Andrea, my youngest, works part time at one store located on Pacific, downtown Tacoma, on the UWT campus. She doesn't like their coffee much, prefers others, but drinks it at a discount.
A hundred bucks? Christ, what could they do for 100 bucks? Maybe wash the headlights, or open and close all the doors? Did they hook up their million dollar computer to it?
Yeah, air shows and Sea Fair abound, so it must be summer there along the shores of Mitchy Washey.
They had an air show down here at McCord AFB over the weekend, using a squadron of real Jap zeros to strafe the crowd, and blew up pretty realistic pyrotechnics. Gave people a taste of chaos and treachery.
It must be neat being able to drive or ride by all your Seattle memories and ghosts. I gave that up for lent. Sparkie got a hold of me a couple weeks ago, and wanted me to drive up to Seattle in commute traffic to say hi. I could not make it happen. Physically, I was not up to it. Traffic just stresses and freaks me out. Coming up to see you is like the limit of my endurance, enit?
Melva just called in from Chicago. There weather is good, and she and her compeer roommates are out on the town tonight. The conference starts tomorrow.
My guests were not here when I arrived after work. I did not have their cell phone numbers, and they did not have my office number. Good planning it seems. I went out and bought a giant double cheese and bacon burger, and fed myself. Life is tough.
Damn, don't let Lea hear you refer to her in such crude and arrogant language. Cars are sensitive to the vibes of their owner/drivers. Gosh, don't you know diddly?
Glenn
Cars are especially "sensitive" to a five pound hammer up 'side the head when they rip the ends of my fingers off.
It's (the fingers) been healed for quite a while but the psychic scar remains.
I thought of the fuel filter thing before smarty Clickety clunk ever did.
You know, Douglas, I have been a fine companion and transportation for you and Meredith for many years. My odometer reading of 320,000 miles shows my loyalty and perseverence. I am Swedish, as you know, and they make us hearty and built for comfort, and to last. I am sad that just because I have aged a bit, and have some rust here and there, and a rattle or two that now you feel obligated to be so disrespectful. Hammer alongside the head indeed. Shame on you, you old Savant. If I did not know that you are just a trickster and joker, I would be severely offended.
..............Lea
Listening to my grandsons screaming and crying and fighting sleep for 1.5 hours as I was trying to get to sleep myself was a fine kettle of fish. I am getting to know the little critters, and am beginning to feel affection for them and all that, but damn, raising children does not seem to be within my aged pervue.
1,224 is the magic number for today. That is the number of posts presently on FFTR. Perhaps I should be ashamed of myself, showing off so shamelessly--but hell, it sure is fun!!!
Did you enjoy my epic poem on the history of lavender, PURPLE HONEY? Alex got me off on a flower jag, and I did some research, and badda bing, the poem erupted onto the page. Creativity--what a reality.
It will not be in the 80's today, which is more better for my delicate constitution. I am actually wearing a long sleeve shirt, and it feels fine.
Things have been crazy here at the office lately. I have been screwing the pooch on a regular basis. Perhaps I am too focused on my real interests, blogging and writing and seeing films. Perhaps I just don't give a shit anymore. Perhaps there is just a countdown to 2010, and the great retirement.
ZZ Top warbled this morning on the radio, "Jesus just left Chicago, and he was bound for New Orleans." I love that blues epic. Miss Melva is there now, in the windy city, doing her conference thing. In some ways it is good to have guests in the house while she is gone. It does get a tad lonely rattling around in our barn when she is out of town.
Glenn
Grow up Iron butt, you know you love it.
By Iron butt, I mean the Volvo, of corese.
Actually "Iron Butt" could apply to the old Buttkus too, for I do use my posterior more than most. All hail Glutius Maximus, my favorite of the infamous Roman emporers.
I took myself to see THE DARK KNIGHT last night. It is almost three hours long--a great flick with a touch too much plot. Heath Ledger stole every scene he was in. He will be missed, as they say.
Our Tacoma Film Club picnic is this Saturday. Hope the weather is kind to us. Some years it has stormed and left us limp and damp and pissed off and on.
I found some great U2 lyrics to post as poetry recently, like THE HANDS THAT BUILT AMERICA. I went back into my archives and added 40 pics on the Marlon Brando Bio posting. It looks better now. Melva called yesterday, and she seems to be having a blast in Chicago; a nice place to visit I suppose.
Well, hey, today is your downtown adventure day, with David, the bus gang, the coffee shop, the sandwich shop, strange young women accosting you on campus, and David's responses to your string quartet--and tomorrow we can dig your comments, enit?
Glenn
Couple of interesting quotes from Friedrich Nietzche this morning:
"Without music, life would be a mistake." and "We have Art in order not to die of the truth." and "Art is the proper task of life." Quite a philosopher, wadn't he?
Janet Leigh wrote a scathing poem on the state of things in this country. I put it on FFTR.
Glenn
Life is a mistake (accordian to my mother, anyway).
Music is just clawing at the ceiling.
Hallo, Lane & Meredith,
Last week, the three of us heard at the Chamber Music Festival a duet for viola & piano by Rebecca Clarke. No introduction to the piece was given by O'Neill or Jeremy. I complained to O'Neill (& Toby) about this, and O'
Neill suggested I look Clarke up in Google.com, which I just did, It is worth it!! She led a mostnteresting life!! The above sonata was slated to win first prize in a competition, but the judges gave the prize to someone else, not believing a woman could compose such good music. Her father also beat her often and opposed her studying composition. Also an interesting marriage to a Juilliard teacher.
Have an interesting read, y'all!!
Tschuess,
Anonomann
I love your self-deprecating nature, Doug, but unfortunately your sainted Mama could not have been more wrong. Life is far from a mistake, for it is the most specific thing a spiritual entity can plan, organize, review, choose the parents, and map out the difficulties, and organize the emotional contracts, and map out the middle of the road obstacles, set up the karma groups, and hope that in this lifetime we do some learning--for we are in lesson for each incarnation. Anyone who denies this is just wearing a sleep shade and masterbating and masticating their way through the darkness, just stumbling like a zombie. What's it all about, Alfie? Go figure.
As to music, if it is only clawing at the ceiling then abandon it, forsake it, cheat on it, stomp the bitch in the teeth! And, of course, you will disregard this advice because Music is the reminder that we are more than meat, more than protoplasmal carbon units, that in other dimenisons, on other planes of existance, music is a constant, in the air all the times, the vibrational fabric that weaves substance in our hearts. You crack me up with your ersatz sarcasm, for you are a perfect foil for the muses, a perfect example of a wandering soul saved by notes and cleffs and lines and sounds and vibrations and toe tapping. Eddy and Emily would be ashamed of you if they could, for you step over the line when you bite the notes that feed you. Although come to think of it, goddamned rap "music" is a lot like clawing at the ceiling.
Glenn
Yeah, yeah, all that is why it's so much work getting out of bed in the morning.
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