Pony Time!

Here are the words that were either incorrect or missing from the last post: be, be, to, here, your, a bunch of punctuation, and the list goes on.  That’s the last time (I promise!) that I’ll drink scotch while doing a post.  I went through that post the next day, after The Princess found an error, and corrected a lot of stuff.  So the edition now on the website is correct, well, probably not, but its better, well, probably not, but it’s less incorrect.

I’ll tell you, as I told the Princess today, sometimes I feel as if I’m being phased-out.  I don’t recognize half the store names in the mall.  When I go to buy a product I’ve been buying for years, it’s been changed or discontinued.  I don’t know any of the current raft of celebrities, and most of the celebrities I grew up knowing are either dead or doing ill-advised “farewell tours.”  It’s enough to make you just want to give up.  But every now and then you’re thrown a life line.  Something that renews your faith in life as you’ve known it.  Something that says, “Hey man, there is still a place for you here.”  In my case it was a life line of sausage links!

At Christmas, well no, it goes back further, in August I was out in CA visiting the idiotic brother, and as we do we began reminiscing.  We both lived in Wisconsin for a time, and he got his engineering degree during four frozen years in Milwaukee.  During those years we got to know and love Usinger’s sausage.  I don’t care, it could be brats, or wieners, or blood sausage, or liverwurst, but it was all “gut!”  We’re of German heritage after all, it’s in the genes.  While he was up there in school we went to the Usinger’s factory store, right in downtown Milwaukee.  They had liverwurst there so fresh, it was like pate (for the unsufistikated, that’s pronounce “pa tay”).

So, as Christmas neared last year, I went on-line, and sure enough, Usingers is still there and better yet, they send out their wonderful “wurst” packed in dry ice, to anywhere in the states.  The Princess and I sent Jim a gift package, and of course, he and his wife, Minnie, loved it.  So, when the Usinger’s 20% off coupon came in the mail a month or so ago, I called immediately and ordered some life-affirming wurst.   In the last couple of months I’ve ordered $150 worth of wurst.  I don’t care now what happens in the world, who the movers and shakers are, or where I’m supposed to shop, I’ve got a wiener in a bun that tells me, “You’re alright, bud, enjoy this and forget about all that other crap, you’re still right where you belong.”

Along these lines, have you looked at the “egg section” in the grocery lately.  My goodness, how do you decide.  That reminds me, on that trip back to Young America that my cousin Eddie and I made when we were teens, you know, to pick up the Model T flatbed?  It just popped into my head that we brought back a case of eggs too (a case is 30 dozen).  Yup, right through the same tornado that almost took the Model T off the trailer, we got a case of eggs home, unrefrigerated, from Minnesota to Illinois, without breaking a one.  That was another scheme of Eddie’s (he always had a scheme), I believe the eggs were meant to be sold in order to offset the cost of the trip.  Of course, no one bought them, so we ate ’em.  And that’s why I remember, to this day, that eggs can remain unrefrigerated for quite a while, and still be perfectly edible.  But naturally, I’ve digressed.

Anyway, in the egg section, you’ve got your antibiotic-free eggs,  your organic eggs, your brown eggs, your free-range eggs, then a slight nuance, cage-free,  and you’ve got your combinations of all the above.  Of course, you’ve got to pick the size too, every thing from “excuse me I just laid a medium,” to “ouch! give me an epidural next time” jumbos.  I’ve heard there are now even some unionized chickens that have negotiated for an open bar between 5 and 7 pm everyday.  You pop two of their eggs in a fry pan, and you can skip that nightly martini.

I don’t know why this hasn’t come to mind earlier, but if you were a teenager in the 60’s this YouTube video will sound familiar: Pony Time!
I thought that would be a great intro for a little slide show of recent Pony progress. 

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So, those pics take you from “unrestored” through to a partial second coat of red paint.  Also,  I’m going to get the center and left side done completely and then switch over and complete the right side.

One nasty little discovery.  As I was cleaning the bottom of the rear end I noticed two small round indentations just under both brake drum compartments.  I kept cleaning and cleaning, and finally it became obvious that there are meant to be holes there.  I finally got up the guts to jab an ice pick in one of the holes and sure enough, the hole went straight thru to the compartment.  The first hole was dry, but when I jabbed the second one, yikes!  Out came about an ounce of water, but worse, that was followed by what has become a slow, but steady, drip of oil.  I checked the manual, and it looks like the source of the oil is a bad oil seal on the left side of the differential.  Oh man, to fix that is a huge job, and I’m not so sure it’s one for amateurs.  As long as the leak doesn’t get too out of hand, I’m going to try to live with it.

As I proofed this post it occurred to me it was kind of all over the place, so I guess, “free range.”  Have a great week everyone, and may the “wurst” thing that happens to you be Usinger’s (800-558-9998).


One response to “Pony Time!

  1. Bruce,
    Eating all that sasuags might land you in Cardiac Rehab.
    I know I have been their and done that.

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