An update on an old friend

Many moons ago I told the story of an old friend getting older. Well things got worse... Much much worse. Remember those oil leaks I described? I let my friend down and let those leaks get the best of her. On a long drive with my Dad around West Mountain south of Utah Lake, the oil gage began to twitterpate. Long story short, the rings were burned out and my Jeep lost a great deal of compression. I could barely get up to 50 mph on the freeway.

I contemplated for a long time, the fate of my precious automobile. I had been watching Chip Foose on Overhaulin and was inspired. I decided to have my engine rebuilt. And so it was, after several frustrating rounds with Gleggs Auto to get a leak free engine, I finally have it. My Jeep now has lots of power, which I take advantage of frequently, Especially on my many drives up Provo Canyon. Zoom zoom!

Update: On Sunday on one of my zoom zooms up the canyon to see my brother Kimo, my Jeep stalled at Kimball Junct. The fuel pump, whining loudly for many months, overheated and puttered out. It is currently in the shop in Heber. One more aging piece needing some tlc.

After Which I Devolve into an Unsupervised Adult

For 5 days each summer I've fallen into an irresistible habit of becoming an irresponsible bachelor. As my wife and older girls go off to young women's camp in the beautiful mountains of Utah to experience spiritual growth and to work on becoming mature young adults, I find myself drawn towards behavior, normally reserved for adolescent young men, which I otherwise suppress. For example, one summer I took a day off work, got a room at the La Quinta inn in Orem, threw my two youngest in the pool for two days while I indulged in reading in a beautiful little garden nook near the pool. I bought a Wii and played video games with my little girls after the pool closed in the late evening. (see my post on this adventure here)

Earlier this year, while my wife and Karen were away on a ballroom team trip to San Fransisco, I went and bought two ducklings. I had, and still have, no idea what we are going to do with them. They can't fly away as they are domestic breads.

What is it about being the only adult around that brings out this behavior? Is it an innate program burned into the secret parts of brain? Is it a genetic defect related to the Y chromosome? I'll never be sure I guess. Anyway, I've got to cut this post short. I'm on my way out to do something... irresponsible.