Posts Tagged ‘Anecdotes’

The Sirens Are Screaming

Dec 02 2009

traffic-stop… and the fires are howling way down in the valley tonight. There’s a man in the shadows with a gun in his eye and a blade shining oh so bright.

Funny sometimes when little events from one’s past sneak back in to the forefront of your memory. I was driving home from work yesterday, listening to my iPhone and a song came on that I hadn’t heard in quite some time. It was Bat Out of Hell by Meatloaf and it brought back to mind something that happened to me many, MANY years ago, way back when I worked at McDonald’s on Topsail Road in St. John’s.

I was working the close shift. As the manager on duty when the store closed, I had to ensure all the accounting was balanced and the cash counted. The cash on hand plus the cash float minus the bank deposits from the earlier shifts had to add up to the register totals. The store closed at 2 am and by 2:30-ish I was ready to go. I rushed out to the parking lot, which was pitch black by that hour of the night, jumped into my car and turned on the radio. My assorted tape was cued up to Bat Out Of Hell, about two-thirds of the way through. I cranked the stereo and popped the clutch, tearing through the parking lot. When I got to the entrance, I didn’t slow down, taking a right directly on the empty streets. Red light, right turn. I never hit the brakes and I was shifting gears. Another stop sign, right turn, and again a stop sign and a left turn, each time passing a quick glance to ensure the way was clear but not slowing down. I lived close by so I was home before the song ended. I pulled up to the curb and sat there, finishing the song. In my mind, I was the original Canadian Idol as I belted out the last lines of the song, still cranked at top volume. “Like a bat out of heeeeeeeelllllllllllll ooooo..oooo..ooooo..ooooo.”

Just as the song ended, I shut the car off quickly, pulled the keys and jumped out of the car bumping directly into the chest of an officer from the Royal Newfoundland Constabulary. His car was parked directly behind mine, but the only lights on were his park lights.

He had a huge smile on his face as he rested a firm grip on my shoulder. “How about stopping for a few stop signs next time you drive home from work?”

I managed an awkward “thanks” and walked into the house, thankful I wasn’t carrying a mitt full of tickets.

 
3 Comments

Posted by Steve at 6:29 pm

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Vinyl Finals

Jul 07 2009

For more than twenty five years I’ve carted around boxes of old LPs. It’s been at least 12 years since I’ve listened to the crackle and hiss of a tune played on a turntable. Yet, I continued to move boxes of this dead weight around from province to province, city to city, house to house.

I learned to appreciate this music format more than 30 years ago. My older brother, Gary, went to Alberta to work in the oilfields and brought back several albums… Aldo Nova, Meatloaf, Supertramp, Greg Kihn, Alice Cooper, Steve Miller. He took good care of his albums and I adopted his approach. The more carefully you handled the vinyl the purer the sound remained. Somehow when my brother moved on again I inherited his record collection. Soon, I began to add to that collection with my own additions. Eventually, my collection grew to more than 300 albums. I skipped the cassette format altogether and vowed not to purchase CDs until you could record onto them. When it became clear that you would never be able to record onto CDs, I caved and started collecting CDs instead of LPs. Even though I duplicated much of my collection, I still kept the old faithful LPs. My turntable became orphaned from my stereo and started gathering dust on a shelf. Eventually, my CD collection fell out of date and fell in preference behind MP3s. Assorted tapes and CDs (yes… news flash. You can record onto CDs now!!!) have taken second place to MP3 players and FM transmitters.

Still, I kept my record collection. I didn’t know exactly why though. I never had any grand illusions that my Prince albums would fund my retirement. I mean, Raspberry Beret is a pretty good song, but… Then this past weekend I answered an ad from someone looking to buy old LPs. They guy came out to my house and quickly looked through my collection. Of the 300 albums he said he was only interested in 30 of them and he’d give me $60 whether or not I gave him just the 30 or all 300. Apparently Quiet Riot and Twisted Sister are marketable, but Randy Travis and Roy Clarke are not. I talked him up to 75 bucks and then realized that I had this sick feeling in my stomach. My music collection was a very personal thing… it had sentimental value. If the guy had given me $500 I would have felt the same way. Yet… I purged the vinyl out of my basement and pocketed the 75 smackers and swallowed the feeling that I had somehow let an important part of my youth disappear into the back of a minivan headed for the nearest flea market.

There’s no real point to this post other than to blab about how much these LPs meant to me. I hadn’t even realized it, but they were mementos of my musical past, a chronicle of my youth and transition into adulthood. And I pawned it off for 75 bucks!

Don’t worry Mom. I kept the Elvis picture disk along with the other Elvis albums and Nan’s Slim Whitman and Liberace albums. Gotta draw the line somewhere.

 
 

Did She Mean To Say That?

Jun 23 2009

clown_spookyWe are rolling out a new phone system where I work. Tonight is the big cut over night and one of the vendors made a mistake that caused a level of service to be missing for a few hours. The employee sent us a message apologizing for the mistake.

“I do apologize for any incontinence this may cause your organization.”

Did she mean the opposite of “continuity“, as incontinuity? Or was she just trying to say she hopes she didn’t scare the shit out of us! icon_lol

 
2 Comments

Posted by Steve at 8:04 pm

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Dude?

May 29 2009

Flashback… 25 years ago. I’m working in the kitchen at a McDonald’s restaurant in St. John’s, Newfoundland. It’s busy. REALLY busy. I’m scrambling around the kitchen, obeying the orders of the manager running the production bin. His name is Dick Tracy. (I’ve changed his last name because it’s not important to the story.) I’d always enjoyed when it was busy, so things were going good and I was in good spirits.

Dick: Hey Steve, I need 6 McChicken down. (Meaning putting chicken patties in the deep fryer.)
Me: Right on dude!

Then Dick stopped what he was doing. He marched right across the kitchen and started wagging his finger in my face.

Dick: Don’t you EVER call me “dude” again!
Me: Uh…. why?
Dick: Because where I come from it’s an insult!
Me: And “Dick” isn’t?

I worked at McDonald’s for five years after that. He never spoke another word to me again. Ever.

Incidentally, the definition of “dude”:

[dood, dyood]
–noun
1. a man excessively concerned with his clothes, grooming, and manners.
2. Slang. fellow; chap.
3. a person reared in a large city.
4. Western U.S. an urban Easterner who vacations on a ranch.

I don’t know. Maybe he was reared in his large city by some chap obsessed with his grooming while on vacation on a ranch out west.

 

Quick-Sinking Quad

Apr 15 2009

We bought a new four-wheeler last year, and so began my hard-learned lessons about how not to ride them.

We took the quad to Newfoundland last year when we went there for vacation. One one of our trips into the wilderness, we crossed a very watery bog. There were three machines, two adults, one teenager, and three kids. Each machine took its turn getting stuck which was promptly resolved by one of the other machines hooking up and quickly towing it out. At one such incident, I was riding my new machine, which had less than 500 kms on the odometer, behind the other two. The first one went through a particularly water-soaked section of bog, but got through. The second machine went through in the same track, digging the ruts a little deeper. I decided that I wouldn’t follow in the same track. I figured that it I straddled a little to the side, I’d have an easier time of it. Boy, was I wrong! My right hand side stayed on solid bog but… what I thought was marshy moss under my left wheels was simply moss floating on top of a fairly deep water gully. The quad promptly sunk and sunk good. I had to remain leaning off the right side of the machine so it wouldn’t roll right over. Check out the short video below showing how deep I was.

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Did you notice that the exhaust was bubbling out from under water at the back of the bike?

Well… it took us a fairly long time getting my machine out of this mess. We were about 45 minutes ride from the nearest help, so I was pretty anxious to get it out on our own. We tried all the conventional methods, but we eventually achieved success by letting the winches out on all three machines and hooking them to each other. Then, we all drew the winches back in. At the same time, the other two machines had their machines in reverse while I used four-wheel, locked-in-low to drive forward. The video below is edited down to shorten the duration, but it does give you an idea of the struggle we had getting out. It still makes me nervous watching it!

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Tom Woodford Motors

Apr 12 2009

nl-woodford-lot-20090127-2This iconic car dealership has been a fixture in St. John’s, Newfoundland for more than thirty years. A couple of months ago the dealership was pushed into bankruptcy. It is alleged that the company owed more than $12 million to Chrysler Canada and almost $7 million to Revenue Canada. Revenue Canada has filed 31 charges against Woodford and his company for breaching the tax excise act.

My 1984 AccordI bought my first car from this very dealership back in 1987. Well, not exactly my first car, but the first car that I had to get a bank loan in order to pay for it. I had several cars prior to this one, prices ranging from 2 dozen beer to 4 hundred bucks. Some of these cars are worth blog posts themselves, but we’ll save them for later. The car I bought from Tom Woodford was a 1984 Honda Accord. I paid $6600 bucks for it, taxes in. (Now I wonder if Revenue Canada ever received the tax!) They had originally wanted a co-signor for the loan, but I insisted they give it to me without one. Once they realized I was ready to walk away they somehow got the appropriate approvals. So, I put $1500 down, signed a bunch of papers, and drove away, bucking gears, in my first standard shift vehicle.

I really enjoyed that car! Thanks Mr. Woodford.