“Quote the Raven: Nevermore.”
A really good reason exists why I have this picture of a couple of grackles sitting on the bed of my pickup truck as seen from my outside rearview mirror. Unfortunately, I don’t know what that reason is.
This is among the photos I took during a week’s comp time back in January in which I cut a wide swath across Texas and Louisiana. The photo was taken as I waited to catch the ferry in Cameron, Louisiana. That’s back when I had a job. It seems so long ago.
Oh yeah, now I know. Truck. I wanted a photo of my truck and this is all I have digitally. I was going to use a picture of my ’98 Toyota Tacoma to pontificate on how doing it yourself doesn’t always equal doing it right.
I set out to do two tasks that should be relatively simple for even someone as ignorant about automobile mechanics as I am. That would be changing the air filter and changing the PCV valve. What do these things do? Well, let’s see. The air filter, I suppose, filters air. It collects all the dust, tumbleweeds, marijuana, Corn Nuts and assorted other paraphernalia before such objects wind up in your automobile’s gisdetta. PCV stands for pernicious composite voltage which doesn’t at all explain its function because I made that up, just like gisdetta. But whatever the function of these creatures are they, like babies, need changing from time to time. Fortunately, you usually don’t encounter baby crap while changing a PCV valve or air filter just as you don’t usually experience busted knuckles and grime changing babies’ diapers. Okay, some of you may. I’m not saying everyone doesn’t.
The air filter was literally a snap, or literally four snaps. But I couldn’t get the PCV valve out. I tried and tried and tried some more resulting in blisters on five fingers, three of which are now bandaged. Finally, I couldn’t take it any more. I took it to this shop where this nice man yanked out the old valve in about 9/10 a nanosecond. “You just wanted someone to break it out,” he said. Which I did, but I just didn’t have the skin left to do it. He didn’t charge me anything, the most decent thing that happened to me today. I guess the least I can do is plug his garage: Winslow’s at the intersection of Calder and Kennedy in Beaumont, Texas. Many thanks.