spring – the time of love and new cars

It’s spring, when thoughts turn to love and cars. Fondly I recall my first new car, a 1974 Toyota Corolla. I was so green I didn’t know you could negotiate the cost so I paid the full sticker price. I went in to pick it up tried to haggle with the salesman and he said, “You can’t do that.”

“Oh, OK” What did I know about the world?

Imagine $4,300.00 for a new car. It thrilled to drive it off the lot and if I lurched about trying to learn to drive a stick, that excited too.

It was the perfect car to drive about the Midwest for rugby matches, including the Ohio Under 23 select side match against Michigan. I drove with “Moose” and we won the game, on the
way home my mileage was way down and I was sure my car new car was failing. Imagine my relief when I discovered Moose’s bulk cost me six miles per gallon.

Now I dream of a Toyota Land Cruiser and a Corvette, but somehow I don’t think they’ll thrill like a Grey Toyota with a motor smaller than Harley Hog.

I’d love to hear about your first car.

We had such good comments, that I invite you to share a picture if you have it…

First car love from Diana at https://talktodiana.wordpress.com/

First car love from Diana
at https://talktodiana.wordpress.com/


putting out the Christmas tree

I put the Christmas tree out. It stands at attention in the snow bank on the tree lawn. It was a good tree, had served us well. To leave it on it’s side, forlorn seemed unworthy disrespect.

I remember going out with my father to pick a tree. We would drive out to the country were a farmer would let us go across his land for a few dollars paid.

We would always find one that had a flaw, not the prettiest, but something that made it special. Maybe a bald spot, or a branch bending the wrong way.

I would cut only a full pulls before my child arms tired, and my father would finish and I would help him drag it back in the snow to home.

My sisters would complain that we never got the right tree, but they never understood, it was just the right one.

So I guess in so many words I am saying that in your poem is the power to bring forth old memories.


I read with sadness that a six foot five inch tall three-hundred and twenty-five pound professional football player was bullied. It got so bad that he just left the team. Of all men offensive linemen are powerful almost indestructible. Maybe he just wanted to belong, be part of the group, but the cost was too high.

Sifu Mohr used to tell us that when martial artists cross hands the consequences will be severe, even to death. What happens when these giants of men do so? The player in question walked away, maybe from the game forever.

Long ago I worked with one of the meanest SOB’s I have ever known. I was young, he some years older than me. His cubicle sat right next to mine. He rode me hard, unmercifully criticizing and demeaning me. One day he said something that crossed the line. I walked away.

I composed myself then walked over to the HR director, stuck my head inside the door and said: “You can handle this however you like, but if he ever speaks to me like that again, we are going to duke it out until only one of us gets up.” She never said anything to me, but the next day they moved our cubicles and I got a window view.

Soon after that, I left and became a consultant. One day years later I heard that the SOB had been fired for stealing from the company. I laughed out loud.

Let’s hope this football player laughs last too.


My favorite oldest daughter, not to be confused with my favorite youngest daughter, graduated yesterday. Read the rest of this entry »

little things…

Once, my brother in law and I rode horse back 1/2 a day from our cabin bordering the national forest and hiked up to the wilderness area planning to overnight just above the tree line, ( 11,000 feet ). Read the rest of this entry »

a bit of bragging

Summer open gym was pure joy. Read the rest of this entry »

life changers

I had lunch with one of the life changers today. Read the rest of this entry »

from kbytes to petabytes

In 1975 I took a job as a computer operator at Chi Corporation. Read the rest of this entry »

who has your back

Today is my birthday, well past halfway to one hundred. Read the rest of this entry »

take february off

My dad learned to drink in World War II. He left a young boy and in the combat of Germany and the Pacific Islands he became a man.

After the war he taught, and while I don’t recall him drinking on school nights, when he drank, he drank hard. Each year he would give up the sauce for a month, just to prove he could do it. It was always February, the shortest month.

May you get through the hard times as lightly as possible. Sometimes that’s were change starts.