Beverly Hillbillies, Part Deux

[raymond]

Okay, you have my undivided attention. Do tell!

(Usually I only use limes for the cerveza and the mexican food.)

Oak leaves, and especially the acorns, are acidic.
A long time ago, acorns were boiled down for tannic acid, which is used to tan animal hides to produce leather.

[rickf]

You do realize that if those batteries are wired in parallel that a bad battery will kill the others in the line. If in series then a bad battery will cause an overcharge on the rest of the batteries. I have seen golf carts wired both series/parallel and I have also seen them wired straight series.

[m3a1]

My EZGO's batteries are wired in series. System is 36v.

Fact is, I use this thing precisely twice a year. I'm simply going to have to discharge the battery pack from time to time (as I did last night while trying to make amends) till the little lowbat warning lights flash, and then recharge fully. The batteries are demanding it and I fully admit I haven't been doing that, having so many other things on my plate. I fully admit I am the author of the problems I've been having. The batteries are good. The user... is a schlub.

This, being an all-electric conveyance, has batteries that aren't really behaving like a battery in an automobile wherein the battery just accepts a topping-off every time it needs it and fare-thee-well. Still, it's a simple matter to discharge the battery pack on the cart - either leave the lights on (a method which will eventually eat up bulbs) or jack it up and run it (observing strict service intervals) which goes a lot quicker....but I really can't just drive around in tight little circles until the batteries get really really low. Frankly, I haven't the time for driving around in tight little circles and people walking by will stop and stare. If enough people stop and stare, eventually someone will also point at me...and I can't have that. Having people point at me makes me nervous because the thing that happens AFTER people point usually falls into the category of - 'BAD'

The charger that came with this thing is an absolute monster and as slow as molasses in January. It weighs a TON. But, unlike the newfangled lightweight chargers, it is fully repairable. Diodes are the usual component that fails on them and if you find one at a yard sale where the seller claims it doesn't work, well... it would probably be worth grabbing if the price is right and it doesn't look like someone threw it off a cliff.

Cannot help but think that I might oughta be looking for a good, used gasser or one that needs a mechanic's healing hand and avoid the battery issues altogether. Mine has six, almost top-o'-the-line batteries. 6 x $160. Yeah. THAT!

That said, a nearly silent electric car is undeniably good for many things...but one thing in particular. Sneaking around. After all, being silent while mobile is precisely the point of the golf car. Provided the zombies we will be facing are not super-zombies with super-speedy abilities, the undeniable stealth of the electric golf car would allow me to get out of dodge with quite a bit of kit, without arousing them which is all well and good for the initial bug-out...

but when the electric grid finally tanks, I fear we'll all be right back to using horses.

Happily, I like horses....and they like me. I just hate the break-in period where most of your body (especially ribs) hurts from all that bouncing along. That's the result of riding like a cowboy. On the other hand, posting is riding like a gentleman...and even then, for a while, your thighs feel like someone beat them with a baseball bat so, pick yer poison. One thing is assured. Tennessee Walkers aren't going to be around for very long after the zombie apocalypse.

Will someone tell me why the H-E-double toothpicks we're talking about horses?!

All kidding aside, I have gotten two years of good use from these batteries while doing everything wrong whereas, four years of good use is the usual tipping point. Frankly, I'm not sure I want to do 6 x $160 every four years....and it may be fun to look for a gasser, if only for the thrill of the hunt.

Oh, and by the way, I identified the military vehicles I saw being trucked to who-knows-where. They were NOT the GM defense vehicle after all. Check this out!

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/M1288_GMV ... 1_2019.jpg

Cheers,
TJ

[rickf]

Another vehicle designed by politicians who have never been in the the military let alone in combat. How much air time would you give that thing if it hit a fair sized IED? You know, the kind the blows the 2 1/2 ton motor from a MRAP 100 yards away and flips the 10 ton vehicle end over end a couple times? Yea that kind of IED. The kind that make up armored Humvees look like they went through a flaming metal shredder.
And even if you miss the IED's every country out there has shoulder fired anti tank weapons that would obliterate that thing.

The guy who came up with this is probably related to the guy that came up with the M113 tracked molitov cocktail.

[m3a1]

Well, there's always a bigger fish out there on the battlefield. Now, it's also the smaller fish you have to worry about. In fact, using Ukraine as an example, it's unbelievably dangerous just being on the ground. Show up in a tank? A drone relays precise coordinates to the artillery and, goodbye tank. Show up on foot, the drone drops a mortar in your back pocket. The Russians have trotted out their time-worn theories on how to git 'er dun...and look where they're at.

Thank you, Mr. Putin. You're an idiot, but we love the object lessons you've provided for us.

I have a few ideas about what's coming to counter that battlefield stuff but I'm not discussing them in an open, public forum. All that aside, maybe folks will finally decide that it's just better to hash our troubles out with pens and pencils rather than with clubs but that's going to mean enforcing those decisions with real consequences. Consequences that will directly involve the public, like withholding trade goods or manipulating markets. Of course, this makes it all the more important that a country (OUR country, in point of fact) should be self sufficient and self-sustaining....sooner than later.

Cheers,
TJ

[m3a1]

Yesterday was exhausting. Once again, His Royal Billiness and I got out the tools and performed an exceptionally entertaining Laurel and Hardy routine.

I use the Bat Trailer to haul the EZGO golf car and since Warrenton is coming up, both will be needed. With the driveway being oddly empty, I figured now would be a good time to get the it out and up on its legs so that we could sort out some of its minor problems, such as tail lights (which need to be replaced) and the deck sheeting which needs a bit of a tune-up before it gets completely out of hand. The sheeting consists of several big panels of aluminum diamond plate laid over marine grade plywood. Over the years, many of the various screws that held the deck to the wood have, one by one, finally decided to retire.

Most are still holding. The places where this is really happening are at the joints between deck plates (because we just can't be allowed to keep nice things nice) so, I decided to put a wide strip of aluminum over the decking joint and bolt it down, but not before laying a ribbon of non-hardening body caulk between the two. This addition will be ugly, which is why I didn't do it in the first place, but it will make a big difference and won't be much of an impediment to the trailer's use. The caulk I got is professional grade stuff that never hardens (or so they claim). And, since the deck is diamond plate, when tightened down, the strip will depress no further than the tops of the 'diamonds' leaving a generous amount of caulk to seal the gap between strip and deck. And, because there are bolts going through the strip, when depressed, the caulk, under pressure, will also form a seal around the bolts.

Perfectly Workable Plan Achievement Badge - AWARDED!

So, I laid the trailer down on by the tongue very gently so that its rear end was in the air and then extended its stabilizer legs to full extension. Then, I jacked up the nose, put the tongue's dolly down and cranked like a madman until the front end was all the way up. In this way, the trailer was completely off the ground, wheels and all, with a generous amount of space below it for performing our work. I took the opportunity to check the bearing packs and found one just on the cusp of needing attention so that's on the list of things to do. I know there's a lot of grease in there so I'm rather sure just a bit more preload will sort that out.

For those of you who are curious, the back legs are meant to stabilize the end of trailer when loading or unloading so that it doesn't squat and they also serve as a way to change a tire without a separate jack. VERY 'UPTOWN'. I rounded up some new hardware from the stores in the garage and everything was looking just peachy.

CapCom we are GO for Launch!

With all this done and the tools laid out, we set to work. Bill went underneath on my creeper, took reference measurements and established that there was a C-channel very conveniently located directly beneath the seam so that the bolts would have an unyielding surface to pull against. FABulous! What he did NOT tell me and what I already knew (but had long forgotten and so, I was actually complicit in the stupidity about to unfold) was that there were three longitudinal box beams that had to be avoided. Billyboi didn't mention them. With my back, I don't voluntarily crawl around on the ground anymore if I can avoid it, especially if there is someone else to do it for me. So, you can bet I didn't go under to verify doodly squat.

So, with the troublesome fact that there were certain impediments to progress going completely unnoticed, unmentioned and whatever other 'UN' you would care to add, I marked out five notional points where I felt the bolts should go to provide the most even downward pressure. I began with one very much in the center and then marked points outward at even intervals. We drilled the strip, laid it down on the trailer and used it as a reference in order to drill corresponding holes through the deck plate and plywood and down into the steel C-channel of the trailer....

...and I hit all three box beams dead on...

(insert your favorite dual-facepalm image here)

How did we find that out? Bill got under the trailer with a wrench and some nuts and found only two bolts. You couldn't even get Vegas odds on that happening, fellas. Compounding our problems was that the bolts I had selected had come up short because I was also using fender washers to distribute the downward pressure more evenly against the strip and nylocks on the bottom...so there was no cheating on the deal and we were about two or three turns shy of having it right. Grrrr.

I gave Bill the tape measure and he corrected our error on the matter of hole placement while I went to round up some longer bolts which, with all the bolts I DO have...

...I DIDN'T have.

WILL SOMEONE JUST SHOOT ME, PLEASE?

It was time to collect ourselves before things got really out of hand and that meant taking a break. We drove over the Tractor Supply, got the hardware we needed and cruised for chicks. It's that time of year and they have got a lot of chicks at TS right now. That done, we drove back in silence, each of us mentally reviewing a checklist of new things might now go wrong. Nah. We aren't that professional. We just goofed off all the way back.

So, what became of the three holes to nowhere? Well, body caulk rolled up and stuffed in the holes made a neat seal, especially with more body caulk about to be laid over it. Sealed up like King Tut's tomb! I'm please to say we paid no real penalty for our screw-up. I drilled a few new holes equidistant of one another, discovered we would now be using SIX bolts, rather than the original plan for five because an extra was needed to have a bolt on either side of the center beam.

Went back to TS to get ONE MORE BOLT. By this time I was ready to be put under some kind of suicide watch and it was only the fact that this part of the project was nearing the end that kept me on track. I came back with a handful of bolts; extras to put in my stores for next time and I am sure that whatever I may need for 'Next Time' I will come up short....again. I might have told you that our perfect plan worked out perfectly, but you might say otherwise. I think it did, sort of.

Laurel and Hardy would have been proud.

Cheers,
TJ

[m3a1]

I promised you this...and I didn't forget. And since we are under a 'wind advisory' and since it is presently 43° (and -80° after factoring in the wind chill) that darned trailer can just sit and wait for its new tail lights while I wait for better weather. That stupid song from Frozen keeps running in my head. There was a time when I was nearly immune to the weather. Now, cracks are beginning to show in my iron constitution!

So, I have made a cuppa and will sit down to do my duty. I believe I mentioned that kids should be issued certain things at birth and then in intervals throughout their young years, just to help assure they have certain knowledge, skills and fully formed decision making paradigms when they finally come of age.

This concept is not as strange at it may seem. The first thing we all get is a Birth Certificate (or 'Certificate of Live Birth'). This little scrap of paper means that everyone involved with your birth agrees and testifies that you were born, alive (an important distinction). Back in the day, before computers, it meant that you were something MORE than a series of ones and zeros....which is oddly contrary to what our modern society spends an inordinate amount of time trying to reduce you to nowadays. Any problems a society has BEGINS with dehumanizing its members.

Something to think about.

What you get next is a Social Security Number (See? I told you!) and that also comes with another scrap of paper. So, there you are, unable to walk, talk, hunt or gather; your motor skills are negligible and basically you're unable to fend for yourself in practically any way. But they've already got their hooks in you. The title 'Social Security' says it all. You are going to be harnessed to the Social Security wagon where you will eventually be told to pull....along with the rest of us. It is suggested that this is for your own good, but the reality is, having a SSN means you are unwittingly participating in what is arguably the greatest Ponzi Scheme in human history.

Welcome to the Matrix, coppertop!

Wait! What? Ohhhh...okayyy. The Billmeister contacted me and insisted the weather is as good as it's gonna get and that beyond today, it's Sod's Law. So, off we go to work on the Bat Trailer.

So we got to it. I went after that errant bearing while Bill began tearing at the tail lights. I popped the wheel off and there was a dust cap with a smaller rubber cap on it. Behind that was a 1 1/16 spindle with a grease zerk sticking out the end of it. NOTHING looked familiar. Had I not been in there before? How is that possible? I wiped away a big glob of grease and there was a spring steel clip-thingie that was clearly meant to hold the Jesus Nut from turning. First time I've seen that on a Dexter axle. Beyond that, everything was the normal set-up.

Yes, there was plenty of grease. No, I did not just tighten things down a bit and call it good. I wanted to see those bearings and races since I had come this far into a hub that I'd never been in before. I took it apart and the rear seal simply wouldn't give way. I managed it after a brief wrestling match but got a little freaked out when I saw the little spring, meant to keep the seal tight, down in between the cage of the back bearing and the inner race....with another spring on the seal where it belonged. Now I REALLY wanted to see the bearings!

Wiped everything down and had a good look. The races read like the bearing preload had been incorrect for some time, but the results were very minor. Otherwise, all was Okie Dokie. The seal...well, probably wise to replace it just in case. Then it was off to Tractor Supply who always has a reasonable selection of standard trailer wheel bearings and seals. I didn't want to spend an hour standing at a parts counter explaining to the counter guy why he can't find my application. I went straight to the seals and bearings via the chick section (all the chicks were G-O-N-E gone Cute li'l fellers!) and once there, I found a set of seals now costs $25. WHAT?! Whereas, a set of bearings AND seals cost $43. Check my math. Finding two seals at $25 then means that the TWO bearings in the kit with seals are then valued at $18. You just can't make this stuff up. My little voice told me to grab the more comprehensive kit and save them for the trailer, to be used at a later date....before the price got higher. Still, I don't like having my pocket picked.

ARE YOU LISTENING, TRACTOR SUPPLY?!!

Back at mi casita, we went at it. Bill got the hedge trimmers out and sorted out the wiring and after a bit of wrangling of the new shrink wrap, he got the first light hooked up. Meanwhile, the hub fairly flew back together so THAT was done and I jumped in to help Bill. Quick and dirty, we set up the other light with jumpers to check for function....annnnnnd....nuthin. Doggone it, the light on that side had been the only one working! Got a circuit tester and probed the wires. Now dead...all the way up and I haven't the slightest idea why. Please understand that the wiring under this trailer looks like an archeological record of amateur electricians. You can tell who did what by the difference between all the connectors and efforts to protect them from the elements...if there had been any effort all.

This is my world. Lots of stuff goes unexplained. The new plan is to strip the trailer of its mass of wiring and begin anew...some other day...when I am more willing.

Cheers,
TJ

[m3a1]

I freely admit it. Bill was right to twist my arm and get me to put on my ranch pants yesterday. It appears that today, we have exchanged wind for rain. Now it's WET and cold; my least favorite combination of weather. Definitely NOT working in this weather.

By some strange coincidence, St. Patrick's Day seems to have gone unnoticed by just about everyone yesterday, including me. I did have a little splash of Blanton's single barrel Bourbon in my evening Joe but even that hadn't the slightest thing to do with St. Patrick's Day. I should feel guilty (but don't) because I do have a little bit of Irish in me which is traceable back to something like the 800s. It's been a while since I looked at my genealogy so I may be off a little bit by 100 years this way or that. That little bit of Irish might explain that part of me that is completely bug nutz crazy.

Where did the holiday go? Maybe it's just another thing we've lost to the Covid era.

Reflecting back on yesterday's whirlwind assault on the Bat Trailer; the whole thing left me feeling oddly unfulfilled. I hate having to put things away when a mission that has gone unaccomplished. -AND- This morning, I realized after I zipped the lug nuts down lightly with the electric lug nut putter-onner-taker-offer thingie, I failed to follow up with the four-way to get them to uniform tightness. I know what you're gonna say. The Thingie is not the tool for putting lug nuts back on and that I should be using a torque wrench. Well, sure, if you don't know what you're doing and let The Thingie hammer them down until they won't turn anymore - or - if you insist on going out and buying a humongous torque wrench for a million simoleons.

I just used it to get the lug nuts seated and stopped there. I meant to follow up with the four-way and apply the correct level of Oogah-Doogahs. That way I know, by feel, how tight they are and I also know I will be able to get them off using similar effort. I can't tell you how many times as a Trooper, I rolled up on a motorist with a flat, who had everything needed to change a tire except the strength to get the lug nuts off. No, I don't use a torque wrench. Well, maybe on aluminum wheels but otherwise, I'm Old School. These are steel wheels I'm talking about and if you insist you're correct about needing a torque wrench, let me ask you this. How did we ever get along back in the day, without everyone's wheels coming off our wagons, Mister Smartypants!

That's a rhetorical question, by the way.

I quote a favorite line from the movie, Gettysburg -

James L. Kemper:
Well, I got to hand it to you, George. You sure got a talent for trivializing the momentous and complicating the obvious. You ever consider running for Congress?

If you think torque wrenches are absolutely necessary for lugging up steel wheels on transport the size of cars and light trailers, well, maybe you should run for Congress.

As I said before, today has been rainy and cold, which is lousy weather for Spring Breakers who must be sobbing, tearing at their hair and exclaiming how UNFAIR life is. People who are counting on separating them from their dough are probably sobbing as well. Luckily, it was perfect weather for hitting some antique stores in order to prepare ourselves for Warrenton, so that when we see how high the prices have gotten we won't simply pass out and end up in a strange emergency some room three hours from home.

We bebopped up to Bandera, Texas and found the place chockablock FULL of bikers who were all there for the artery-clogging BBQ and beer. Beyond that unifying raison d'etre they divided into two distinct groups. First, the 'adventure bike' riders. They were clad in moon suits (imagine a snowmobile suit crossed with a rain suit and you'll pretty much have it). Second group, the "Harley Davidson' riders who are always dressed like it was 90 degrees outside and who, today, were looking disdainfully at the members of the other biker group who were obviously quite comfortable. The HD guys were doing their most-ut to behave like they weren't actually cold which is tough to do when, even through a leather vest you can plainly see how cold they really are...which is sayin somethin' since most of them were males.

Beyond BBQ and beer, Bandera happens to be home to a nice, moderately sized antique mall with many vendors offering antiques and not-quite-antiques. Basically, soup-to-nuts. Came away with nothing more than a sticker for No.9's back window that simply reads - AFGHANISTAN I Served on a white field with black printing. I think it stops well short of a similar sticker with a service ribbon background that, IMHO, is solely for the military. Don't want to claim honors I didn't earn or mislead anyone. I was trained, armed and paid for by the U.S. Gummint who sent me to Afghanistan with lots and lots of other non-military people who were trained, armed and paid for by the U.S. Gummint. All of which, I suppose, makes us mercenaries. I reserve veteran status for the military guys and gals and my hat's off to 'em. But, I feel most proud that I showed up for the party voluntarily (and the paycheck was nice too)...hence the sticker. I don't think my pride is wrong, or misplaced.

At least I'm not riding around half naked, claiming I'm not cold.

Cheers,
TJ

[rickf]

I was at the range today for a range cleanup day. My job is the same every time since in my decrepit condition I can't really do much in the way of manual labor anymore so I take my tractor down there and grade roads, move dirt and generally move things people can't pick up. Well, This is the first time I have really been outside for any length of time since my latest surgery a few weeks ago and it was cold, It was cold and damn windy which makes it more cold. Plus you are moving on an open tractor in the wind and cold, for 5 hours. I am not too proud to say it was so cold I passed on doing any shooting when we were done. Now let me tell you, THAT IS COLD!!!!!

Ten years ago at this time of the year we would be wrapping up plowing and this would be T shirt weather. Getting old sucks!!

[Mark]

I am checking my memory about lug nuts, to get the proper torque on the lug nuts is go finger tight 1st, then use a lug wrench to turn it another half a turn?I should check that answer 1st, but have to remember 1st where I got it from, which might be hard to do.But the old method was turn it with the 4way as tight as you can, which might be more revelant, aw, had to throw in my 2 cents worth.This is on the mutt.

[rickf]

I think as tight as you could with that tiny lug wrench they gave you was the answer. I know in my 20's at 6'3" and 220lbs. farm boy strong meant as tight as I could easily break them right off with anything bigger. With experience come "The feel" where most mechanics can get bolts pretty close to the right torque just by feel.

[m3a1]

So there I was, standing out by the curb, putting my new Afghanistan sticker on the back window of ol' No.9 and from the down the street I hear a car pulling out from the stop sign at some extremely high RPMs. Whatever was going on down there was blocked from view by the crest of the hill. Trying to remain disinterested, I kept at my business but the car was getting louder and taking forever to get to me and I'm located at just about the 50 yard line on this block so, whatever it was, it was going pretty slow. Intrigued, I felt I just had to take a peek. Here comes a woman in a fairly high end Mercedes with its engine turning some ridiculously high RPMs and as she approached me, she slowed as if to stop and the driver's window went down. Yeah. She wanted to talk.

The conversation that followed reminded me of the old BEEP-BEEP song recorded by the Playmates. Her opening line came in the form of a question.

"Can you help me?"
"I'll try," I replied.
"My car won't go very fast and the engine is very loud."

I glanced at the LCD screen which was laid out similarly to my wife's Doctor Car. The car was in first gear. Her hands were on the steering wheel in such a way that her fingers rested on the paddle shifters. Yeah. That's it. You guessed it.

"Put 'er in PARK." I said. "Now, put 'er in DRIVE and see if that works."

Off she went and I was happy I didn't have to take the time to tell her about 'modern' cars and the 47 ways they can be shifted. Nonsensical options that have been included in a package designed by overzealous engineers. On the other hand, with brains like that, next time she has this problem, she may just try to go straight to PARK while on the move. I think perhaps the Mercedes won't allow that but you never know...

Cheers,
TJ

[Mr. Recovery]

Beep Beep, Beep Beep, her horn went Beep Beep Beep!

dan-2beers-2_zps6d3a82dc.jpg

[rickf]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L7hch0wQD1w

You know that will be stuck in my head all damn night now!

[m3a1]

What will be stuck in your head, Rick - "Beep Beep, Beep Beep, her horn went Beep Beep Beep?"

No worse an experience than going to the range, working and then being too tired to shoot! That's unsat..

Well, the big day finally came; the big Warrenton bacchanal; the big cornucopia; the ultima.... Nope. It wasn't that good. According to the meteorologists (a job where you can be wrong more than 50% of the time and still keep remain employed) we would be facing a zero percent chance of rain in Warrenton (which was correct) partly cloudy and 65° with light winds (which was wildly INcorrect). Instead, we got NO sunshine and temps that took a nose dive to 51 degrees and were made even colder with a stiff, persistent wind.

Warrenton is located in an area of Texas which is blessed with regular rain and irregular weather of all sorts. The grass there is green and lush, the wildflowers are all in bloom, the cows are all fatties (we were near Bremen where, it is said, the cows think they are in heaven) and from that alone, one should be forewarned about the possibility of encountering weather that is less than fair. I came prepared for the weather that sonofagun weatherman had mentioned. As a result, I and everybody else was chilled to the bone because pickin' in Warrenton is an all-day affair if done properly and business is conducted 98% outside. .

This Monday would be different than my usual Warrenton experience (we almost always go on a weekend) in that most of the buyers were safely at home or at work....you know - places with heat. As a result of this, a lot of vendors were slow to open and a lot of vendors didn't open at all which was maddening because Warrenton is about a 2 1/2 hour drive. We unloaded the golf car(t) and got right to it, zooming silently across a large and quite empty grass field which is usually nearly full. Soon, the wind would come up and the temperature would drop even further.

We went straight to our closest and (historically) most promising, group of vendors who were located in their usual place - the epicenter of 'the cheap seats'. The vendors there were like carneys, right down to their manner and right down to their socks. Which reminds me of ANOTHER song, Rick.

♪♫ I got a gal, with two teeth in her mouth. One points north and the other points south ♪♫ Good ol' Hagaleena Magaleena.

There, we found them huddled around fires, dressed in their Goodwill clothes and trying to warm themselves or, they were to be discovered cooking breakfast on grills constructed from bits and pieces of things far beyond their serviceability. In the mornings, this was more a hobo camp than a place of business. I know this because once I actually went to a hobo camp to make several purchases. That's a true story, and one worth telling.

Now, if you were to see these people on the street, you'd put your hand over your wallet and draw your children closer to you. Here, in this place, quite the opposite occurs. Here, you usually reach for your wallet. Theirs is clearly a hand-to-mouth living, but it's honest, at least when in full view of the customers. They live in campers or trucks converted to include some small living space. These abodes are really only campers in the most academic sense. I have a hard time getting my head wrapped around someone whose life is so turned around that they can't even manage to grab a scrap of linen to replace a tattered window shade in an ancient bumper-pull camper and yet be so affable (and capable) when conducting business.

Make no mistake, this IS business. All of this selling and 'picking' is just a big machine meant to squeeze a few bucks out of the process of redistributing dead people's stuff.

These are also the people most adept at negotiating a 'happy price' (as it is called in Afghanistan). At the beginning of the two-week event, most vendors hang onto their wares like they were made of gold; hoping for a buyer who has a fatter wallet and who is more willing to dole out its contents. In the latter part of the second week, the carney-vendors may be found trying to make a sale just for gas money to get back to wherever home is....and I mean that, quite literally. In fact, I bought from these exact folks several times when that was exactly the case. There was the smell of blood in the water and I was the shark. This is exactly how this game is played and there is no dishonor in being the shark and doing what sharks do and carneys respect that code.

Unlike the more haughty vendors who show up in palatial motor RVs and who have fixed prices and who aren't all that interested in 'happy prices', the carneys will pitch you a price as long as you care to stand at bat. There was a time when I hated negotiations like this. But, having spent some time in the bazaars in Afghanistan, I now have the necessary skills (and temperament) and I'm better for it. With that particular Afghan experience under my belt, I'm more skillful at haggling, more relaxed and more willing to wallow in all the fun of it.

For example, if you're pickin', pick not less than TWO things. The first thing is the thing you want. Could also be more than one thing you want. Then pick something that you would only take if the price was CRAZY GOOD. But NEVER, EVER physically pick those items up and present them to the seller. The moment you do something like that, you've tipped your hand and the seller knows he almost has you in the bag. DO point the items you're interested in out to the seller and ask for a price for everything, meaning one price takes all. Then start by working that price down.

Be on your best manners. Make an offer LOWER than what you are willing to pay. He'll counter with an offer HIGHER than he is willing to accept. All that is left then, is to find the price in the middle. But don't stop there! Throw him a curveball. Ask what the price would be without the item you want least. At this point, you are demonstrating that on at least some of these things (and maybe all) you are willing to walk away. That puts you in a better position.

The seller is either going to have to work harder to close the deal, which is good for you, or he's going to have to try to hammer out separate deals on each piece and risk losing the sale of one or two of the additional pieces by trying to get too much for the other bits. The effort and speed he puts into that will tell you if he thinks there's a reasonable chance the deal can work to his benefit. He's usually going to be willing to haggle if there's room for it...or. if he's not, you're probably already getting close to his final number. You can use phrases like, "I don't love it $30 dollars worth," which is a non-aggressive way of saying, "Your number is too high for me." NEVER say something like, "I can get the same thing on eBay for half that." The seller may already know that and he may be willing to take the time to find someone who doesn't feel that way.

But pickin' and rummaging isn't buying on eBay. On eBay, the buyer finds the exact item he wants by using the search engine. In places like Warrenton, the buyer finds the item by using his feet (or golf car if he's a fast-mover like me). 99.999% of this Warrenton stuff isn't exactly the thing that the buyer was looking for....which is all part of the fun....and eBay rules don't apply. If you've been there often enough to recognize something that just hasn't sold you might mention that but, keep in mind, you may be the only buyer the seller has (at the moment) but the seller may be willing to roll the dice and wait for another buyer to come along.

Sellers HATE packing and unpacking and moving large items. Wanting to buy a large, or heavy item, you might say, "Let me help you with that by taking it off your hands." It certainly doesn't hurt to let the seller know you understand his problems. Be nice. Be friendly. Most importantly, be a REAL buyer. Be ready to back up your offer with your wallet. The seller doesn't want to take a beating from you. He just wants to make a sale. Help him feel good about selling to you and all will be well.

The first thing I picked was something actually handed to me by Sir Billiam. It was a trifle, really, but a really NICE trifle. It might have been something he would have picked up for himself but, not trusting himself to show restraint when buying, Bill comes to these places with a couple hunderdt bucks... in hunderdt dollar bills. His theory is to allow fate to play a hand in his picking, because we all know, big denominations aren't all that welcome in these places. On the other hand, I am the master of my own ship. I make my deals and fate (which is always present) takes a back seat. The problems with Bill's way of fatal thinking are legion. The least bit this line of thinking is, quite literally, the least bit and THAT is, having NO small bills for the inexpensive, hard-to-find stuff is a huge, HUGE mistake.

Bill scared up a vintage can of Corcoran boot polish but not just ANY can of boot polish. This one has parachutes graphics on the lid, silently falling earthward. The lid of the can proudly states - PARATROOP JUMP BOOT POLISH - Dark Mahogany, printed on a rich eggshell-colored field with a mahogany colored surround. On the back, the manufacturer claims - ...Frequent light applications will develop the dark mahogany luster desired by Paratroopers. So, knowing this little piece of tin was going to go for chump change and knowing he didn't have the denominations for it's purchase, Sir Bill of the Big Bills gave up this wonderful find to me and the rules are, when you hand it over, you're absolving yourself of any claim to it. So, I talked to the vendor who simply held up two fingers and I laid down two battered one dollar bills and we were finally off to the races.

Everything up to the first purchase is mere preparation. That first exchange always leaves me with a small rush of euphoria...like a kid coming down the stairs on December 25th to find what Santa had brought. Heigh-ho Silver! AWAY!

As for the boot polish can...well, my Dad was a paratrooper. I even have his complete 1944 Switlick jump master's chute; something he acquired for his post-Army days of jumping. He was young, dumb and full of...hopes and dreams. And, I have my own Corcoran jump boots that I acquired for doing some of my Living HIstory gigs (back when I was younger and more fit). Corcoran made a small run of 50th Anniversary WWII pattern jump boots back in 1995 and I got in on that deal. Nowadays you can count on me to be the guy displaying some really nice military kit (but no longer wearing it) and wouldn't such a can of boot polish display well with a pair of real Corcoran jump boots and what-have-you? YOU BET!

MONEY MISMANAGEMENT MERIT BADGE - Awarded...(to The Billmeister!)

With the ice broken, we drove around looking at all sorts. No crowds but quite a few vendors who had jacked up their prices, as I had predicted. That's inflation for ya....and the little people suffer for it. Came upon a half-tent with a half-frozen vendor. He had a few things that looked promising including a NOS Korean War era M50 instrument light (multiple uses but most often found on a mortar). $25. I didn't even try to work the guy for a lower price. $25 was fair and he was miserable and $25 would get him through the day.

Bill, who has this strange fascination with brass, selected an unissued surveyor's elevation marker; the kind that is set into concrete somewhere and then has the information for that particular point of the planet stamped into it. Bill worked the vendor over by pretending to be poor and managed to whittle $5 off the asking price. In the end, I was forced to make change for Bill which left me stuck with one of those danged hunderdt dollar bills. (I handled it carefully, just in case the ink wasn't dry.) The vendor, of course, came away $20 richer but judging by his expression as I made change for Bill, he felt like he had been duped.

The next buyer will have a harder time of it with this seller, which is a pity. Good buyers should soften the hearts of vendors. Good vendors are made; not born. Show me a vendor who is a 'hard case' and I'll show you a vendor who feels he was duped, one too many times.

Eventually, we got to an area that is so far afield of the majority of the goings-on, many (if not most) pedestrian pickers never get there. You've heard me say it before. It's truly the outer reaches of the realm. Some really good bargains can be struck out in the boonies but, NOPE. Not today. Not only were these people sticking to their prices, some were actually buttoning up their tents and taking the rest of the day off. Being in Warrenton early on in a two-week period, and in foul weather, on a day where the delicate balance between buyers and vendors was all akimbo definitely wasn't working in our favor. Still, I was having a chilly good time.

Sometimes, there are hints about what actually goes on behind the scenes with these hundreds, it not thousands of vendors. For the first time ever, I was seeing surf boards EVERYWHERE. Most of them were long boards and most of them had some irrevocable damage on them. A vendor can often be judged by his (or her) wares and, sometimes, by their manner of attire. When I came across a vendor who was up and about and suitably dressed for the day (and thus, not cowering in the least wind-blown corner of his tent) I decided to stop and visit. Stopping and visiting and just being chatty sometimes leads to greater things. This was a guy with a vast array of rusty farm stuff.... and one long surfboard and I could no longer contain my curiosity. I just had to ask so I stopped to talk while Bill skulked off to do some shopping and perhaps one-up me. After all he now had four twenty dollar bills in his mitts.

The fellow told me he bought the board there at the event and hoped to flip it. I bid him good luck, because they were, quite literally, EVERYWHERE. I have long wanted to get a long board and paint it up like Kilgore's Airmobile Surf Board (Apocalypse Now - 1979) but long boards aren't really a thing in Texas. Here, they are hard to find, even down by our coastline which is a coast not exactly well-suited to long boards. Now that I no longer have a M151 and instead have an amphibian that is only suited to calm water, I'm not so keen on having one. But here they all were...long boards that came too little and too late.

I left the car(t) and walked out to round up Bill and found myself drawn to a vendor with some interesting things. This was a husband-wife team. The husband was absent and my immediate impression was, he was the leader and the wife was left there to mind the store. I asked about several pieces and her answer was always a knock-my-head-clean-off price which, in and of itself, usually isn't anything more than a starting point and nothing to lose any sleep over. But it also isn't necessarily an invitation for a counter-offer, either. After the last quote, I laughed and told her I was beginning to take a strong dislike to her. She laughed too...because she clearly didn't want to be left in the situation she was presently in. Better to make no substantial sales than have to explain a purported loss the the husband.

I took an honest stab at it, but this gal was stuck on big numbers, because she didn't want to disappoint her husband. Still, I found and bought another trifle. Well, actually more than a trifle but they had foolishly left a yard sale price tag on it (yeah, that's where they got it). She doubled that price and quoted it to me, probably as a peace offering. I bought the item...and got it for about 1/4 what it was actually worth. It was brand new, in the box, wrapped in plastic. Can't tell you what it is, but my brother IS GONNA LOVE IT. (He reads these posts occasionally so, unfortunately, this has to remain a secret).

We continued to scour the place. I found many things that I might have picked but after trying a lot of haggling with vendors who were clearly holding out for the latter part of the two-week period, I felt we might just as well call it a day. I drove us back to where we started...shopping with the carneys. A lot of folks are put off by them and don't visit so for repeat customers such as I, they are a good place to revisit at the end of a day. They appreciate it and usually express that appreciation with some fine prices. And you never know...they might need money for dinner. I know that sounds horrible but this is how the game is played, folks. You gotta know what your opponent's weaknesses are and strike while the iron is hot.

I made one more honest attempt to find a few things and came up with a surprisingly nice piece of automotive history - a Ford Model T steering wheel in wonderful shape. Probably TOO wonderful to be honest. May well be that the wooden ring had been replaced but the center section was absolutely original. It had a great vibe. What a nice piece to have hanging in the garage, eh? I paid the asking price because it was too low to pass up. $30. No argument from me!

That's how it goes. Sometimes, you get the bear. Sometimes, the bear gets you.

Cheers,
TJ