"A judge is a law student who marks his own examination papers." - H.L. Mencken

Memorial Day

When you're wide awake at 12:30 a.m. and surrender to the awakeness at 2:30 a.m., moving to the chair, it's going to be a very long day. The good news - the French are also up, and playing tennis on the red clay of Rolland Garros, so hour long commercials for machines to tone my butt are unnecessary. (The commercials, not the machine.)

I worked on the Rambler after my bike ride. More accurately, I worked under the Rambler cleaning up the two or three quarts of transmission fluid that spilled out when I took the pan off Saturday. That done I removed the rear drums to discover more mess. Parts missing, fluid leaking, shoes worn down past scary, and drums that are probably original and need replacing. Again, rebuilding a brake system isn't especially tricky but when new drums are required it also ain't cheap. 

The brake shoes on a '66 Rambler are held to the backing plate with a funky cone shaped spring unlike anything I've ever seen before. How does it release? I posted that question on the Rambler forum and got an answer that included the suggestion that I convert it to the more common clip system I'm familiar with. What caught my attention most, though, was the responder's tag line:

"Be a gambler, drive a Rambler."

The announced plan was that Pat would paint the VW's fenders over the weekend and bring them today. While here he would take a look at the door latches, which don't. He called about noon to say he was on his way. When he pulled up in his (highly modified and VERY fast) Vette I suspected he did not have fenders with him. Correctamundo. The door latches are fixed and the fenders.....????

He also looked over the Rambler and concurred with my analysis of the various problem areas, and that fingers crossed is the best course re. the transmission. He thinks it's possible that pieces may have broken off the front seal, accounting for the worsening leak. 

I wish I had the guts to take a camera to the gym at the rec center. Sometimes it looks like a SNL skit, with 65-year old men wearing very short shorts, T-shirts tucked in, gym shoes with over the calf white sox and - the piece de resistance - a sweat band around their bald head. Not that they sweat. Mostly they walk around posing in front of the machines. 

VW makes a tool for tightening down the special nuts that hold the headlight and wiper switches in the dash. Turns out a table fork modified with the help of a pair of needle nose pliers works just fine. 

(Note: Pam doesn't read my blog.) 

I'm really tired. I have just enough energy for brownies from the pan, a Diet Coke, and my head on a pillow. A better post tomorrow, promise.