As I was getting into bed last night I had what my friend Jim calls an epiphanette. I figured out the problem with the new bike computer.
These things have a base unit that attaches to the handlebars and does the computing and the readout. The data is transmitted to it from a thumb-size sensor that attaches to one side of the front fork and gets positioned very near the spokes. A fingernail-sized magnet attaches to one of the spokes so that every time the wheel goes around it passes very close to the sensor which then transmits that input to the unit up on the handlebars.
Before I installed the new computer - base unit, fork sensor, spoke magnet - I took the old computer's parts off ... except for that spoke magnet. The sensor thinks I'm going really fast and really far because both magnets are sending a signal. Two rpm for the effort of one.
Dope slap.
"You keeping it or selling it?"
I told him I hadn't decided but I'd consider selling if the price was right.
"What would you ask?"
This from the service writer this morning at the repair shop we use when necessary. I've done everything I know to do to diagnose the Rambler's brake issue but can't figure it out. That place has an old gnarly lookin' guy who has worked on cars since he was a teenager who I think will find the issue quickly.
I gave the service writer a number that would turn a profit. I should probably have gone higher. His girlfriend likes older cars and tonight they're going to look at an early-70's F-150, but he liked how clean Louise is and it's relatively small size.
I told Pam people will think I'm crazy if I sell it this soon. "Won't be the first time, or the last."
I think this will happen fairly frequently - people asking if it's for sale. It really is a nice looking car and people willing to do without the automatic everything will find it appealing.
Pam is surprised I'd consider selling it this soon, but I told her that for me it's about the journey more than the destination. I enjoy the process of bringing something back, whether it's an old house or an old car. "And there's another one out there somewhere."
She didn't respond.
The rest of the story....
I wrote the above earlier in the day. I've been over to the auto shop twice since then as I was going to and from the gym for the afternoon workout.
The guy's girlfriend can only spend between $2,000 and $2,500, well below the price I gave him and what I think the car is worth. That's OK. If he'd said "she'll take it" I would have regretted not asking more. The next person who asks will get a slightly higher number. I can always come down.
The old guy (Dave) can't figure it out either. That makes me feel better; I wasn't missing something obvious and didn't make a dumb mistake. He agrees it's clearly a mechanical problem, as opposed to a hydraulic problem as suggested by the service writer. Dave put it in reverse, applied the brakes, they locked up, he jacked the car up (without moving it an inch), and when it was up in the air... the wheels turned freely. Huh??
He's got books at home (I can only imagine what his house looks like) that show very detailed pictures. He'll study them tonight and work on it again tomorrow. Nice guy, likes the car, and will, I'm sure, figure it out eventually.
I think I said this a year ago...
One of us really likes the big tangelo tree in our back yard. The other one has to prune it.
Pam's out in the kitchen making dinner. Fish!
It's Monday night, which means football!
Tebow time??
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