Well, let me first say that LGM has bigger balls than me. That's right. Those of you who know me, know I'm not one to mince words. I have a healthy respect and disrespect for myself. I've told many folks, I have balls the size of bus tires. LGM's are bigger. You know the tracks on that crawler that sends the space shuttle to the launch pad? That would be about half the size. Huge. Think of a B-52 airbase. That's about right.
With a wrench, she's doing things that makes me cry like a little girl. A couple of times, she told me, "Come on, you're losing to a girl!" Yeah, a girl with balls the size of Sand Crawlers. Things that make her grunt make me scream because my hymen just got torn.
When I got to Ekapol's place, Lola (Doug, Rita was the old car. . .btw, folks on LotusTalk tell me I can't name her "Lola" as they were a competitor to Lotus. I respond that when someone has plenty of wivestock and I can pick the main filly in the herd, they can rename Lola.) smoked everywhere. LGM already had her roll of tools out. She attacked it like banshee. I've been told I make coffee nervous; I'm telling you LGM makes methamphetamines nervous. I tried to do something, anything to scape some scrap of usefulness out of myself. She stopped for a moment to say, "Just sit back and enjoy the show." I hung my head in shame.
So, I went out to get brake cleaning fluid. Ah yes, the chicken soup of the automotive world. Doug drove. Six cans? Can't hurt, I thought. And apparently it was a good idea since Ekapol used some of it to clean off his driveway this morning! We delivered shop towels, brake cleaning fluid, etc. And I was back to my useless state. How about food? Yes, food is always a good. The power of the donut!
LGM ate. Before I could finish eating, she had removed something else that I couldn't identify. "See, we need to remove the plenum to get to the hose that connects the clavicle to the reduction skillet." Gesundheit. Well, back to holding the shattered pieces of what I thought was my manhood. I'd try to ask a question or something to figure out what was happening. At one point, I think I asked LGM why the huge hurry. "I want to get as much done before (sun)light disappears." Oh yeah. Good idea. I was just about to say that.
Think of Han Solo in the Empire Strikes Back. You know, the scene where Imperial Storm troopers are barging into the rebel base on Hoth. LGM is Han Solo - in a hurry, going to save your butt. Ekapol is Chewie - trusty sidekick, knows what to do and when to do it. Doug is Luke - there's no story without Luke, we wouldn't have our Elaning adventures without Doug putting together LEC. Me, well. . .I'm C3PO - lost, clueless, no penis.
And that was pretty much the entire evening. Luke went off to go see his Jedi Master in Santa Rosa (except she's not wrinkled nor green). Han still knows what he's doing. Chewie's still doing his thing. I'm just there for the ride, hoping I don't pee oil in my golden trousers. Ooops, can you show me the nearest laundry-mat?
Somewhere in the night, I get around to getting underneath Lola and tightening two (yes, TWO!) bolts! Yes, the hair on my balls WILL sprout just as soon as they drop! And then somewhere in the night, I was so tired, I nearly pass out. I think it was right before I remove those two bolts. Let me define pass out - vertigo, confusion, nearly laying head on the ground in an uncontrolled manner. LGM is still turning wrenches. I offer her a drink of water. She bites the neck of the bottle, tosses the water back, gulps, spits the bottle back to me. I'm sure she drinks her whiskey the same way. Meanwhile, I'm tired, cold, and about to buckle.
I ask Ekapol to let me into his place so I can rest. I dream strange dreams. I hear a motor start and run. I hear revving and idling. Please, don't wake up. Let the dream be the only reality I know. And I woke up. "Car's ready." It's 11:48am. We, and by "we", I mean Ekapol and LGM with me in the critical role of "spectator," started working on the car around 5:30pm.
We're still not quite done. Some smoking is happening. We've cut the smoking down by about 80%. Thirty miles of driving only burns up about a pint of oil. That's progress! Seriously, it is progress, it was that bad. Ekapol's old turbo's in Lola now. We're going to flesh out what else we can do on Lola tomorrow.
I'll post some pictures just as soon as I can find a set of prosthetic balls.
"Lawyer, gambler, bookie, loan-shark, light arson, sundry interests in areas of questionable legality"
-Your "Jack" of all trades