Saturday, May 30, 2009


My friend Tom got himself a Jaguar. I've heard about this car for nearly two weeks. We had country lamb dinner on Lonsdale so that he could tell me all about getting the car and having to fix the car.  I heard an in depth story of water pumps and octopus with the inevitable one missed nut. This was followed by the rescue. No soldiers died. It was a good story.  It carried into the Rhubarb pie and ice cream.  By the time we drove back to our boats, everyone was looking at his car.  I told him my friend George feels the same way about his car. I enjoy hearing their car stories. I hope they enjoy hearing my motorcycle stories. It's not just being polite. We're friends.  If we were cowboys we'd ask about each other's horses. If we were future space ship captains we'd tell each other about our latest intergallactic  hopper. The little jaguar looks great. I wish Harley had a little moulded eagle like that.  Since Harley Davidson is a Scottish name, maybe a wee eagle playing golden bagpipes.

The next day we couldn't get my boat out of the water for repairs because all the boat lifts and work space in the neighbourhood was spoken for. So we checked out the Yamaha xt 250's and wandered about PopEyes looking at used boat stuff.  I tore out the old sink faucet in the head and installed the new one.  When I asked Tom to check the installation he suggested I turn on the water.   Unusual request, if you ask me.   Tom replaced the gasket that must have dropped out somewhere by itself. It's absence accounted for his getting thoroughly soaked. 

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