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breakfast and virginity

3 women, 3 hammers and 1.5 drinks...

tap tap tap...ouch! tap tap tap tap...ow!

Ha ha women. Now how much do you love your precious IKEA?

Just overheard, "we need more screwy things" and "ok, now just four more of the locky thingies".

I'm sure I'll have more pictures/comments later...but I might not have the guts to post them ;)

Grandma and the car named Hamgravy

         

On June 23, 1930, my schoolteacher grandmother and three girlfriends set out on a road trip in a car named Hamgravy. They left from Janesville, Wisconsin, and spent two months driving around, with Grandma keeping meticulous records in a trip journal the entire time. There is an accompanying photo album.

They took a southerly route through Iowa, Nebraska, Colorado (Denver), Utah (Salt Lake City), Nevada (Las Vegas), dipped into Mexico, then made their way up the coast of California, through Oregon, Washington, up to Canada (Banff, Alberta), down through Montana to Wyoming, where they turned east and headed across South Dakota and Iowa home to Wisconsin. According to statistics noted in the journal, they traveled for 62 days, 9969 miles (50 of which were apparently on ferries), visited 133 towns, and spent a total of $271.04 which worked out to 1-1/2 cents per mile. My grandmother’s record-keeping was meticulous.

“Lena and I met the girls, Edna and Irene, at Janesville this a.m. and we were finally off at 10:30. At 11:15 our most able pilot, Hamgravy, decided to have a flat tire. The man in the Ford garage was the first to inquire if we had a couple of guns with us. At Dixon we saw a statue of Black Hawk on the banks of the Rock River. At 4:30 we crossed the Mississippi River. Landed in De Witt at 6 and had a chicken dinner for 50¢. Traveled 166 miles. Temp. 93.5°.”

It looks like the four girls went in together on the cost of buying the car, and had it freshly painted for the journey. There were eight flat tires altogether. They apparently were not opposed to flirting a little with people they met on the way. “We stopped at Loveland [Colorado] for gas and Lena promised the service man some Schlitz beer next time we come. “ Otherwise, the car was dependable. “Yesterday we saw cars towed through the mud and today they were towed through sand in the desert. Found some awful detours but our Ford rambled right along while other cars were standing still. If Hamgravy only knew! “

It does seem like my grandmother was kind of the captain of things: “We are driving along the Great Divide and can see many snow-capped mountains … Irene gave up driving at Twin Lakes when a fellow told us we still had 30 miles of mountain driving to Aspen. So Hamgravy and I are taking the rest over the mountains by way of Independence Pass — an elevation of 12,200 feet. Lost a bit of my courage but got up the steep grades in second. It’s cold up here and we had our pictures taken on a snowbank. We are glad to be over and finally reached Aspen at 3 o’clock for dinner.”

Nightly accommodations were at travelers’ campsites, where the cost of various sorts of cabins and cottages was $1–$3. On at least one occasion, they drove further than they had planned, with some extra adventure and more praise for the car. “These lodges are expensive places, $14 a day, so we decided to drive 40 miles before we could afford to sleep. At the ranger station we were informed that we couldn’t go on because of forest fires but we followed four fellows to the fire and cars were taken through by forest rangers. Eleven cars went with us and Hamgravy went up the long grade to Summit Inn on high. We passed a Buick on up grade so are we ever proud of our Ford. Some exciting day! Wild bears even crossed our road. Reached cabin at 11:45. Traveled 235 miles. Tent cabin $3.”

After two months on the road, they were anxious to be finished. “We are going to make home today so are stepping on the gas all the time. ‘It’s Janesville or bust!’ We didn’t stop to eat but bought a lunch to take in car.” On August 22, my grandmother the road-weary traveler reached home in Almond, Wisconsin.

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I know there’s a book project in these materials. First, it is simply extraordinary that in 1930, these four young, single women set off on such a journey unchaperoned (well, I’m assuming it’s extraordinary). Second, it’s such a complete accounting of all aspects of the trip that it would be too bad not to share it with others. I suppose I could do the journal and photos, and intersperse history and contemporary events in appropriate places.

Remember that bit yesterday about sitting on my ass? It was back in 1993 that I typed up the handwritten journal and scanned all the photos.

Fishin' with Uncle Tad, amazing weather today

Awesome weather today in the Quad Cities. Picnic lunch and fishing with Moe, Papa, and Taddy Boy.

         

Click here to download:

Fishin_with_Uncle_Tad_amazing_.zip (1849 KB)

Leo in Wolverhampton's new water feature =>

Apparently the Tory/Lib City council are going to switch the fountains off over the winter for fear of getting done by people who slip over on the ice it creates. Then why not put salt down? That would corrode the internal workings they say. I'm glad my council tax went on a fountain that only works for half the year!

My wife talks dirty

At long last, I drag my spouse kicking and screaming into the blogosphere.  And she likes it that way.

Laptop Confessions is a blog for the guilty conscience in us all.  The first post is all trash talk and it gets tawdier from there.

I'd tell you more, but it's late and she's dimming the lights...

Crib Bedding Set

dream, Fri 6/11/09

I was in some sort of video game. The video game resembled work. A woman told me off because she said 'take down' to me and I didn't understand what she meant. I asked her, and she told me to stop being smart with her. I said I really didn't know what she meant and was sorry. She just told me to drop what I was holding and leave, as all employees were instructed to do so.

There was a part of the place we were in that was the 'hard' part of the video game. We all kept getting killed.

* * *

My mother and brother were arguing. Apparently the only way I could settle the argument was by phoning Stephen Fry. I rang him, and we were looking at the same page of a book, comparing the illustration. I corrected him and he thanked me. I was telling my brother and mother that I corrected Stephen Fry who knows all about something! They didn't know who he was. I didn't understand how they could not know when we'd all lived in England for so long.

Gramps would have been 99 today...

The Song of the Wage-Slave

When the long, long day is over, and the Big Boss gives me my pay,
I hope that it won't be hell-fire, as some of the parsons say.

And I hope that it won't be heaven, with some of the parsons I've met —
All I want is just quiet, just to rest and forget.

Look at my face, toil-furrowed; look at my calloused hands;
Master, I've done Thy bidding, wrought in Thy many lands —

Wrought for the little masters, big-bellied they be, and rich;
I've done their desire for a daily hire, and I die like a dog in a ditch.

I have used the strength Thou hast given, Thou knowest I did not shirk;
Threescore years of labor — Thine be the long day's work.

And now, Big Master, I'm broken and bent and twisted and scarred,
But I've held my job, and Thou knowest, and Thou will not judge me hard.

Thou knowest my sins are many, and often I've played the fool —
Whiskey and cards and women, they made me the devil's tool.

I was just like a child with money; I flung it away with a curse,
Feasting a fawning parasite, or glutting a harlot's purse;

Then back to the woods repentant, back to the mill or the mine,
I, the worker of workers, everything in my line.

Everything hard but headwork (I'd no more brains than a kid),
A brute with brute strength to labor, doing as I was bid;

Living in camps with men-folk, a lonely and loveless life;
Never knew kiss of sweetheart, never caress of wife.

A brute with brute strength to labor, and they were so far above —
Yet I'd gladly have gone to the gallows for one little look of Love.

I, with the strength to two men, savage and shy and wild —
Yet how I'd ha' treasured a woman, and the sweet, warm kiss of a child!

Well, 'tis Thy world, and Thou knowest. I blaspheme and my ways be rude;
But I've lived my life as I found it, and I've done my best to be good;

I, the primitive toiler, half naked and grimed to the eyes,
Sweating it deep in their ditches, swining it stark in their styes;

Hurling down forests before me, spanning tumultuous streams;
Down in the ditch building o'er me palaces fairer than dreams;

Boring the rock to the ore-bed, driving the road through the fen,
Resolute, dumb, uncomplaining, a man in a world of men.

Master, I've filled my contract, wrought in Thy many lands;
Not by my sins wilt Thou judge me, but by the work of my hands.

Master, I've done Thy bidding, and the light is low in the west,
And the long, long shift is over. . .Master, I've earned it — Rest.

Robert W. Service (via Wikisource)