Hotspur.us

I find it rather rude when someone something decides to throw a sweet rave in my own garage and doesn’t even have the decency to at least invite me for a free drink. Now admittedly, with the Jeep in the garage there isn’t an awful lot of extra room. Judging by what greeted me this morning though, I’d say the garage crashers had one hell of a good time.

You are probably wondering what the hell I’m rambling on about this time? This is what….

I decided to take the Jeep to work this morning. Instead of going into the garage through the house, which is what I usually do, I figured that I’d be wild and crazy this morning and open the garage from the outside. I pull open the doors and lo and behold one of the milk crates that is usually perched high above on wire shelves is laying by the rear passenger tire, it’s contents spewed as far and wide as physically possible in such a confined space.

I’m already running late for work, and I’m wearing a suit, so I’m not impressed that I’m going to have to clean this mess up before going to work. (Yes, I did consider just running it over, it is a Jeep after all.) I pick up the crate, jam all the excessive stuff in it and, since I can’t replace it on the shelf without climbing on the Jeep and STREEEETCHING (I’m wearing a suit remember), I figure I’ll just put it on the workbench which is in the front of the garage.

There I am, crate held aloft (it won’t fit beside the Jeep, our garage is small tiny microscopic) squeezing through the tiny passageway, when I see something resting against the driver’s side front tire. What the hell is that? It took me a few seconds a bit (I’d only been awake 45 minutes at this point) to realize that it was the little set of drawers that neatly contained all kinds of different nuts, screws, bolts, nails. It was no longer where it should have been – resting snugly in place – and the contents were no longer contained. To make my morning that much better, I realized I was not able to get around this new obstacle.

Still holding the milk crate aloft, while contemplating resting it on my head to give my arms a break, I realized that the entire front of the garage was a disaster. BJ’s bike was laying at the oddest of angles. The baseboard (stained and nearly ready for installation in the first floor bathroom) was knocked askew and now twined through the Jeep’s bumper. And there was a bunch of other items that had earlier been neatly stacked carefully placed tossed quickly on the workbench that were now laying in a jumble on the floor or on their way to the floor.

My brain was unable to process what was going on. What it was able to process was that:

A. I was going to be late for work.

B. I was not going to be able to pull back into the garage after work.

C. I really needed to put this milk crate down.

Being in that early morning haze, I decided that the only way to put the milk crate down was to climb over the Jeep’s bumper in order to reach the front of the garage (baby brother parked smack in the middle of the garage width ways). How I managed that in a suit will remain a mystery for the ages. That done, I dropped the milk crate on what appeared to be a sturdy pile of stuff, squeezed back to the little set of drawers which was spewing pointy items all over the floor, kicked it away from my tire as best I could and managed at long last to get into the Jeep.

Checking my watch revealed I might be able to get to work on time. I started to back out when I heard this strange “SHHHHHHH” noise. I looked around. Nothing. I began to move again. “SHHHHHHHH” What the hell was that?  And then THUMP! Down came my skis (still in their airline bag thankfully) right onto the hood. Startled by this new development I was unable to stop and THUD! they fell completely out of the rafters and landed on the garage floor. Which is when I looked up and noticed that some of the viking tent poles which were also in the rafters (yes, that’s what I typed, don’t ask) were somewhat askew and in possible danger of falling.

I gunned it.

I arrived at work just on time (it’s amazing how much difference leaving 15 minutes later than usually makes in a commute when it comes to traffic patterns). I’d been mulling over how hard the skis must have hit the hard top when they fell out of the rafters (and trying not to think about what knocked them out in the first place) during my commute. I figured it was just best to go ahead and see if there was any damage on the roof. Which is when I saw this.

(clickity to make bigger – I included measurements of my hand for reference on the photo below)

I took this one when I got home….It is of the back of the roof.

(I took the following two pictures the following morning with the little digital camera for better detail)

I looked a little closer at my hood and saw this.

Closer inspection led me to see some additional prints on the windshield and the rear window. Now typically when I park the Jeep in the garage I’ll leave a window down. Fortunately BJ had been the last driver and so the windows were up and the doors were locked.

Which is good. Because I don’t even want to think about what kind of damage whatever left those prints would have done to the interior.

Which leads me to this. What the hell was in my garage on Monday night? And, is it coming back?

The forecast was supposed to be lovely so I thought I’d take the Jeep to work this morning, not that I have the soft top on any more mind you. After all we’d had plenty of cold, wet weather and I decided (right before a patch of lovely sunny, 70 degree days) to put the hard top back on (thanks BJ, best brother ever).

I get in the Jeep, turn the key and look at my gauges. What’s this? I’m almost out of gasoline? How’s that possible? I was positive that the last time I drove the Jeep I filled up the tank. I remember being rather annoyed because the next day I drove the Subie and had to fill it up as well.

I backed the Jeep out and started down the hill thinking that maybe the gauge would swing up. But no, it just sat there, almost on Empty. It was then I realized that it was rather odd that my gas light had not come on. So close to Empty and yet nothing – no light, no ding ding ding.

Back on flat ground I looked at the gauge yet again. Nope still on Empty. Crud. I started thinking that maybe the float in the tank had gone bad. Or the wiring.

I was hoping to at least get to work before the gas was completely gone and then figured I’d run out at lunch and fill up. Which is when I took one last look at my fuel gauge.

Yes, E is for Empty. But F is for Full.

It’s that time again. Time to trek to Charleston (which for me involved a side trip to see pony and a stop in Weston to meet up with CL Combat) to throw – yes I was the hostess with the mostest this time around – sMAGPI’s Fourth Annual Meat & Greet.

I bring the awesome, you guys bring the rest. Fun guaranteed. Pony’s Promise! (Sometimes I think of it as more of a threat than a promise.)

And so things got underway. Thanks to soldofsolitude (and his Dad) for bringing the most awesome grill ever. Seriously, a grill of that nature adds some level of sophistication to what was (and trust me here) a rather haphazardly thrown together event.

We did have a moment of trepidation when I had to draft grill masters. Although to be honest, it was more like assign or harangue. It just so happened to be the two guys loitering near the grill. I figured they must have been admiring the grill and thus showed some interest in using the darn thing.

After feeding the mass of humanity that had gathered we moved on to some games. OK. So the only activity really was the ammo can toss. And the tragedy of it all was I Spotty Spotty Pony Girl only had one ammo can laying in my basement that was ammo can toss worthy. Yep. ONE. And it was a .30 Cal at that. Oh the shame.

For those of you unsure why this would be shameful, please allow me to elaborate. 1. I’m a geocacher. I should have several toss worthy ammo cans stashed safely in my basement. 2. The men’s ammo can toss has traditionally been a fully laden .50 cal ammo can while the ladies’ ammo can toss has been a fully laden .30 cal ammo can. 3. The winner gets the can. UH OH.

But I’m wily and adaptive. So both ladies and men threw the same can. The men’s winner – wvhunter74 – got the can and the ladies’ winner – Allysmom got a finely crafted t-shirt. Problem solved kids.

While the ammo can toss was being played out (and yours truly was taking photos and trying to keep one eye on the can) who should drop anchor but local legend CaptJackSparrow! Avast mateys…’tis a pirates life fer we scallywags. Alas the Cap’n escaped portraiture.

And so with bellies full and prizes distributed….and after a bit o’ excitement that nearly remodeled the place….we went jeepin’

Yeah, we did. Two three Jeeps and one pick up truck hauling: pbump, mrs. pbump, SSPG, CL Combat, Knight Who Says Ni, wvhunter, Rock_Rat, Gentleman-Carpenter, AllysMom, Ally, Nuggie99 and wvmikiepar. And thank goodness for those last four folks since they were our leaders. Thus ensuring we actually arrived at Rt. 60 Connector Ridge #1 – Briarwood.

It was a mighty fine day.

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Thanks to Sam I finally had a soft top to put on Edmund, the little black jeep. (Sam’s disclaimer was that it was in rough shape. I’m just thrilled to have a soft top.)

With much thanks to my dear brother and Aquacache the hard top was easily removed and sitting on the stand I made. (Found those instructions online. Cheap and easy.)

Now sure, I’ve seen plenty of jeeps without tops, but that didn’t stop me from finding Edmund’s appearance a little strange.

The soft top went on super easy since the brackets were already on the jeep. So while I was all ready for some back breaking labor and lots of cursing, it was a smooth install.

Now, time for some celebratory food.

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