Tag Archives: Porsche

Odds ‘n’ ends

Yes, well. A bit of radio silence here lately. Understandably, I’m sure you’ll agree: I had to go back to work this week after three weeks off.

So of course, I haven’t slept well at all this week. Part of it was due to heading back to work, I know, and part of it is just what I do sometimes, being of the age I am. The other part of it was likely the let-down after my mother’s minor stroke and hospitalization, and the fact that my brother and sister-in-law were just in town to stay with Mom so I didn’t have to do anything for her for a few days. That would be time off for good behaviour, I guess. But it would be even better to sleep all night long. I’m hopeful that tonight’s the night.

Getting back into the swing of things at work has been difficult this week. I had left a lot of things unfinished the week before Spring Break, what with our three-day teachers’ job action and missing the rest of that week because of Mom. Normally I would have organized my piles o’ stuff and left myself notes so that I would know exactly what I was doing the minute I walked back into my classroom. But I wasn’t able to do that this time, and after three weeks of not working, I seemed to have forgotten everything. I couldn’t find stuff – and I wasn’t even sure what I was looking for anyway. I couldn’t track down kids that I needed to do reading tests with. People kept coming in and interrupting my train of thought. I kept getting distracted, even all by myself. I had computer issues and had to spend a fair amount of time with our IT guy trying to sort it out. It took me till about Thursday to really feel like I was accomplishing something – and now I’m feeling a bit guilty because I’m still not finished all my assessments and organization for the next term. (Uh – yeah, that would be this very term, the one that has already started. The one that I am apparently not ready for yet.)

The weather hasn’t been wonderful this week, either. Rain and wind. Repeated rain and wind. Rain and wind again. Typical spring weather around here, but it’s really not conducive to the well-being of my daffodils and tulips. The daffodils are already open but are being battered and blown about, while the tulips are trying valiantly to bud, but I think they’re too scared to open up now. Well, at least the temperature isn’t too bad: I’ve been able to take my winter gloves off. The down parka is staying on till probably May, though.

And then I got a phone call from the “system admin desk” at Passport Canada yesterday. Remember I had to renew my passport recently? Well, when I answered that phone call, my first thought was, “Holy crap! Am I being denied a passport? What the hell did I do – and why don’t I remember it?!” My second thought was, “It’s that horrible photo! It’s so bad that even Passport Canada won’t accept it!” Then I actually listened to what I was being told: some information on my renewal form didn’t match what they had on file for me, possibly because somebody typed it wrong. So could I fax them a copy of my long form birth certificate so that they could get the correct information? I did that this morning. I hope I did it right, because with my scrambled egg of a brain this week, it’s entirely possible that I faxed it to some podiatrist’s office in Hong Kong or somewhere.

And now for something completely different, Porsche Guy has bought himself another car. He had to: his beloved Porsche died on him this week. It was the rear end or the transmission or something – he told me, but apparently I’m not retaining a lot of information lately. He said he just has to get some parts and he can fix it himself – he’s been reading up on it because he knew that whatever it was, it was going to die on him sooner or later. (At which point I was thinking, “Have you ever heard of preventative maintenance?”)

So anyway, he’s bought himself …

… another Porsche. This one is pretty much the same model, but a few years newer and with a turbo-charger, so it’s even faster than his other Porsche.

Hmmmm. Let’s think about this: “his other Porsche”. PG now owns two Porsches. I actually know someone who owns two Porsches. Someone who is not a millionaire or a rock star or a famous actor. Someone who is not terribly rich, really. Someone who has a slight obsession with Porsches. But someone who has an extremely apt nickname, don’t you think?

I tell ya, I live in interesting times.

Handle with care

I just got off the phone with PG. He’s going away tomorrow and I won’t see him till Sunday, so we were having one of those conversations where I said things like “Drive carefully” and “Have a good time” and he said things like “Of course I’ll be careful” and “I’ll see you on Sunday afternoon, right?”

Then out of the blue, he announced that his left wrist was sore. Really, really sore.

I expressed an appropriate amount of concern, but inside I was rolling my eyes and wondering what the hell he did to himself now. After all, this is the man who routinely walks on balcony railings and roofs and has gone bungee-jumping a couple of times. He might even have injured himself sleeping, for all I know. (He does have some really weird sleep positions. The most common one is what I have termed “salmon swimming upstream to spawn”. You need to be a contortionist to assume that particular position, never mind actually sleep.)

But I did ask, politely of course, if he had any idea what might be wrong with his wrist.

PG was quite definitely sure what had happened to his wrist.

You see, the inside door handle for the driver’s door of his car broke off several weeks ago. He, as usual, has not yet replaced it. So, to open the driver’s door, he has to roll down the window, reach out awkwardly, and use the outside handle. He has had to do this several times a day for several weeks now.

And this, apparently, has strained his left wrist.

I should ask him if he’s ever planning to replace that broken door handle, but I’m afraid to know. He just might use vice grips.

Just shifting gears here …

Porsche Guy drives a … Porsche. (What – you thought maybe it was a VW??) No, he really does drive a Porsche. It’s not a brand new one, but he is quite handy with cars and has always loved to spend time tinkering on them. He claims that one of the reasons he prefers older vehicles is that he can work on them himself. I KNOW that the other reason is that he can’t afford to buy brand new the exoticars that he really wants to own – and also, he hasn’t got a clue about computers, and since new cars are full of computery things – well, it just wouldn’t be a pretty sight.

So okay, the man is a gearhead. Fine. I accept this. And since I have been known to share his enthusiasm for cars, we seem to have that weird thing known as “something in common”. (Except when he gets all technical on me, but he’s learning to recognize the glazed look I take on at those times and immediately switches to telling me how shiny and pretty the exterior paint colour is.)

Now, his Porsche being “d’un certain ├óge”, it requires repairs and replacement parts every so often. For example, the digital clock doesn’t work. He did get a replacement, but there is some wire missing or connection broken (or maybe it’s computer-related?) so he can’t get this new one to work yet. The hatch doesn’t always close properly – but he’s working on that, and today said he thinks he’s almost got it. The air conditioning gave up the ghost long ago, but PG says he’d way rather open the windows and feel the wind – and besides, how hot does it get in Vancouver anyway?

None of those are absolutely crucial elements to a car, really. Well, maybe the hatch is, but honestly, it mostly does close properly after a few tries. But when the gearshift broke off in PG’s hand a couple of months ago, as he was driving, now THAT was crucial. Somehow, he nursed the car home, after he pulled off the leather boot that covers the bottom half of the gearshift and gingerly gripped the five remaining centimetres of unbroken gearshift to shift as best he could. I was sure he would replace that sucker right smartly, because a gearshift is a pretty integral part of a car, especially one with a standard transmission.

Oh, he replaced it all right. With vice grips.

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