Forgotten items

The Bucktooth-Bathtub is back from Corby’s Collision.
It had a couple severe scratches on the rear bumper-panel, apparently because of some unknown parking-lot contretemps. (I discovered it in the garage.)
Corby’s is the place we took the Faithful Hunda after it got smashed. I think they fixed it — I’ve seen it. Our insurance totaled it.
The scratches were the sort of thing the Old Man would have let pass. But since we think so highly of the Bucktooth-Bathtub, we decided to get an estimate — $329.99; not much.
20-30 years ago I would have done it myself, although the scratches were deep enough to require filling.
The panel is the flexible fiberglass or plastic cover over the bumper-material: probably styrofoam. Pontiac’s old mid-engine Fiero two-seater sports-car’s whole body was made of this stuff.
And if I had done it, it probably wouldn’t have been clear-coated, and they apparently also put some flexi material in the paint. I probably would have done it with spray-cans — I did the Vega windshield-frame with spray-cans.
So Corby’s Collision did it; turned in Monday (August 14) at noon, picked up yesterday (Tuesday, August 15) afternoon.

The dog-grooming and bumper-fix scotched the PT-gym. But we were able to go there today (Wednesday, August 16).
The scale said 202. The Physical-Therapist said I started at 225, but I think part of that was clothes.
Whatever; I have probably lost at least 20 pounds. “Well, you work out two hours per day, three days a week, and that’s what happens,” the PT said.
Under 200 will require a massive sugar-hit — perhaps chocolate cake (“toxins”) at the mighty Mezz.

Summer is drawing to a close.
Days are shorter; i.e. the sun comes up later, and sets earlier.
It was coming up before six; now it’s after.
And it was setting toward nine. Now it sets around eight, which means walking the dogs before supper.
Soon it will start getting dark around seven — memories of my motorbike trip to Bill’s, on a Labor-Day weekend.
It was my worst motorbike trip ever. It was 4 o’clock and I hadn’t yet got to Williamsport. I was stuck in a parking-lot traffic-jam on the expressway near Blossburg.
I have no idea why we were blocked — we were out in the middle of nowhere. I had to shut off and paddle.
South of Williamsport I ran into another parking-lot traffic-jam south of Lewisburg. At that time the four-lane narrowed to three-lane along the west bank of the Susquehanna.
That was the bottleneck. Now it’s all four-lane.
Then I missed the exit onto 22 and rode off into the weeds. I was expecting a ramp, but it was a cloverleaf.
I managed to get stopped without drama and rode back to the highway.
And approaching Harrisburg on the east side of the river, I missed the exit onto I-81, part of a bypass-loop, and got thrown into deepest, darkest Harrisburg.
I took a main street heading east, figuring it would interchange with the loop, but the mighty Cow also needed gas.
The station-attendents were incensed I wanted to charge about five bucks worth of gas.
So when I finally got to Strasburg, a bathroom break and way-station I’ve stopped at for years, it was pushing 7:30; getting dark.
I took 791 (?) east to Gap, as I always do, and then clipped a curb in the dark at the turn onto 41. An Intimidator was behind me in a giant Chevy pickup.
I didn’t drop it; just stalled it. I had no idea the curb was there at all — it was pitch-dark where the headlight didn’t shine.
Then as I proceeded down 41 it started raining. At Route 1 I decided to ditch 82 and turn onto Route 1.
I took it to 202, and then 202 to Silverside. I remembered Silverside had a kink from my high-school days, so navigated it without drama in the rain.
I got to Bill’s around 9:30. Linda was in a frenzy, and had already called Bill a few times. (Apparently a furious thunderstorm had passed in West Bloomfield, but I never saw it.)
I had made it, but the motorbike sat on Bill’s porch the whole weekend. I wasn’t sure I wanted to ride it back home, but did.
“Get back on the horse.”