I’m not a big drinker, but the default gift around this time seems to be booze. The manager of the windshield place we use decided to go on a Santa spree and drop of some boozeahol to his good customers, and since I order 5-10 windshields a week, I guess I get to be put on the “nice” list.
So yea, if you need someone to put a windshield in your car in Calgary, this bottle of French disinfectant says “use GlassMasters NW”.
So the choice now is Perrier or Tang?
Sometimes my job is odd. I’ve been thinking a lot about the value of things. We have a car here that originally retailed for over $100,000 in 2006. This is one of it’s fuse panels, with which our techs are probably going to get to know more intimately soon. We are also going to have a hard time selling this car for $16,000.
It baffles me that someone can spend the cash to buy a vehicle for as much as a modest home, and let it deteriorate to the point of near worthlessness in less than ten years.
But mostly, I found this panel while looking for the navigation system DVD drive, and it looked like Xmas lights, so I took a picture.
Although I like the way this one looks a bit more, the picture didn’t turn out as well. It’s dark back there.
It’s amazing sometimes what you find in trade in cars.
Hector is a little soapstone hippo that one of the lot guys found in a Ford Ranger that was traded in. Bouncing around the cab with the jumper cables, old coffee cups, and a DustBuster. I oiled out some of the worse rash on his back, and re-levelled his base, but I’ve avoided “fixing” a lot of chips and nicks.
Kind of strange, this little guy. Someone took the time to carve a hippo out of soapstone, not really traditional subject matter. I’m assuming somebody bought this at some point, and I’m guessing it was a gift. Along the lines of “so and so really likes hippos, they’d love this thing”. How it gets from the artist who was probably pretty proud of their work, to sliding around the back of a truck, to being one of the things not worth picking out of the pile of trash when the truck is traded in is an odd journey.
Also, the parts manager tried to kidnap him, but I managed to liberate Hector and return him to his rightful place, keeping papers from flying around my windowless office.
There is a secret parking lot on the roof of the strip mall across the street. It used to be super fun in the mornings, trying to walk by the homeless dude on the stairs back to ground level without waking him.
The dealership started renting the lot, and installed security doors and a gate, so there is now fewer people living on the stairs.
I’m guessing this sign has been in place since it was constructed, all the other signs are modern reflective printed boring signs. Because this sign is on the north wall, there is limited human traffic, and it has been less fucked with.
If I’m ever rich and famous enough to require a sign, you can count on me finding a sign painter to make it. Sure, they don’t last long and are invisible at night, but you only need to read a sign once. You may have to look at it for years. I’d rather look at something nice instead of being reminded that someone may steal my shit.
This is the first picture I’ve posted in a while. I’ve decided to take a noteworthy snapshot every day this coming year, and figured I’d start early, to try and actually follow through with it.
I’ve had problems with daily schedules. Working random hours for ten years or so will do that to a person. Now that I’ve got a steady nine-to-five type gig, the nine part (and the five as well) has been quite an adjustment. It’s more like a 9:10 to 6:45. So it’s kind of fitting that my first “scheduled” picture is of my schedule being screwed up. Leaving for work in the morning to find myself boxed in by a fire truck.
As far as I know there was no fire. At least not at my house.