Rear Hub

Sanded brake pad.

The 1974 Vespa Ciao moped fell over in the van and all the gear oil drained into the brake compartment. no rear brakes. I used slip joint pliers on the large sprocket nut. That comes off and the whole assembly is pulled out to reach the brake mechanism.

Sprocket and sprocket bracket

This bearing needs to be replaced but I'd have a better chance of replacing my T6-T1 vertebrae.

Andrew Jarvis

I learned something about the town I grew up in today so I'm going to see how quickly I can summarize it.

Every weekday from Late August to Mid June I walked out my back door, usually forgetting to lock the door, and walked or jogged to school. The high school was about a one mile walk for me. Maybe a bit more. 2 miles tops. "You'll be late," my father would inform me through dream cotton ears...and I paid him as much heed as I did to Nancy Reagan. My father left slightly earlier in the morning but it was a rare day I could get up in time to get a ride with him. I'll tell you why: normally, I would lay awake at night listening to the radio with headphones attached to my Sony Walkman. WHEB would play Dead or Alive and Pet Shop Boys over and over until 4 am. Then I'd get 2.5 hours of sleep and in attempting to make it 2.75 I would oversleep and miss home room. I could listen to the radio all night long in 1988. Faced with a choice between listening to Madonna's "Material Girl" or eating breakfast, I chose Madonna.

"Home Room" that phrase seems very unfamiliar to me now that I have been out of that artificial/codified world. I'd have to walk up South Street hill and endure the jeers of students who honked at me in their cars. Sometimes they'd stop and let me run up almost to the door and then take off fast, honking and flipping me the finger, calling me faggot. They were real heroes, laughing at me as they would arrive at school exactly on time and knew that I'd never beat the bell. Rain and sleet would lash my face and they'd always laugh and drive away. Real winners, those guys. (I'll add that one morning a kid let me catch up and get in. He was drinking vodka, playing Def Leppard wicked loud, laughing. He took a left turn in front of a speeding car and it smashed into us, glass covering our faces, flipping the car over and around. I got out and he forced the bottle into my backpack and said, "Get rid of this." and I limped away from the carnage, having injured my hip and neck. I tossed the empty bottle into a garbage can...and was still late for Home Room. When the Vice Principle asked for my excuse I said "It was my destiny." and was given an extra day in detention.)

Safety Email

"MAX HEAT INDEX VALUES ON TUESDAY WILL RANGE FROM 105  TO 107 AND MAX HEAT INDEX VALUES ON WEDNESDAY WILL RANGE FROM  106 TO 110. THE COMBINATION OF HEAT AND HUMIDITY WILL RESULT  IN AN ELEVATED RISK FOR HEAT-RELATED HEALTH PROBLEMS." 


Strange that it doesn't mention the impending environmental collapse caused by unfettered destruction to fuel our grotesque infrastructure. It must've slipped their mind.

Note: Today, the only two places on Earth that were hotter than this area of Texas were Adrar, Algeria (middle of Sahara Desert) and Jeddah, Saudi Arabia. Ridiculous.

Street Guitar

Oggy's fat free ass rested hard on the concrete flower bed that protected a few weeds dispersed by wind and fate. The bearded one had to shift his decrepit hips to avoid sores. Graffiti and pain were painful distractions that Oggy wrestled against, mentally pinning one against the other and grappling alternatively with reality and an image of symbolic warfare. "Famuz G." was one such purple paint tag. "BLK BOYZ RULE" was another. "Vato Street Brothers...V.S.B." Nowhere was the wingnut nation represented, lacking literacy and publicity department of the aforementioned...and this omission bothered Oggy because it touched on a larger problem within a problem, a hidden problem, one of education strata enjoyed by the dispossessed, not merely defacing property but a subclass of undesirables who were voiceless.

Retirement

This place looks like it has enough character and quirks to keep me entertained. A music school is all that is missing but there is one of those in Puebla.