ramenth
Gratis persona
Okay. Up in the morning, got my coffee in me, logged on here to see what was going on and to FEBO to see if anything needed moderated.
Left the house to go finish moving my **** out of the shop. I moved the majority of it out last week. Get there to find out my business partner has changed the locks. With about a half dozen of my welding clamps that weren't in my toolbox and an engine stand still locked inside. Must have pissed him off that I took my toolbox out and he couldn't make money off my tools.
Check the loader to see if the key is in it so I can load a couple of engines and transmissions. Of course, not.
So, in locking me out because he's afraid I'm gonna steel from him, he turns into the thief.
I look over in the junk pile and he was nice enough to throw some of my parts in it. And burn the passenger side seat to my nephew's Cordoba, as the burnt out frame is laying on the junk pile.
His wife comes out the door and I go off about the ******* doing what he did. She immediately goes back in the house. Probably to call the thief.
I get my body cart loaded and am so pissed I forget to lock it down. It runs all the way forward and into the front glass of the cap. Mashed glass all over the place. A nice big mound of all over the driveway where the thief has to drive. Hope he gets a flat.
Jamison, my nephew, shows up with his D150 to help me get the last coupla loads out. He's about to flip ape s*** when he sees his seat.
Well, with no loader to bring the engines to the truck he tries to get the truck to the engines. No go, the two wheel drive won't go up the hill to the side shed. But it digs some nice grooves into the muddy, wet lawn.
I back my truck up the hill, push the thief's four wheeler out of the way so I can get the old cherry picker to the engines and Jamison and I load the engines into my truck, which will make 'em harder to unload into the shed once we get home.
But we get it accomplished.
But that was just the start. Get home, get things unloaded, and decide to go grab a bite to eat. Jamison, my best friend, Karli, and I load into our trucks and go to the local Asian buffet.
Come out and my truck won't start. Fine, we roll it out and Jamison gets behind me with his Dodge and we push start it.
On the way home, my F150 starts loosing power and starts rattling. I pull to the side of the road and it shuts down. Fine. Pop the hood. Lots of steam, but the radiator cap is ice cold. My lower clamp is loose. Now, mind you, the temp gauge is dead. Won't move to save it's life and I've been meaning to put in a gauge pod on the A-pillar for temp, volt, and oil pressure. Guess I need to make room in my million item list of things to do to get it coming and get the gauges installed.
Jamison runs Karli home and fills buckets. He also grabs the tow chain off the 351 since we needed the tow chain to load the engines.
While I'm standing along side the road waiting for the kid to get back I get a funky smell out of the radiator. It's a smell that's familiar, but I can't place it. Then it dawns on me: muriatic acid. Great... someone's been f***ing around with my truck and I think I have a good guess who. The neighbor next door, with all the posted signs up his place. Around here, owning a house with no yard and putting up posted signs is a good sign of a meth lab... and muriatic acid is one of the ingredients used to manufacture the s***.
We get the F150 towed home, get it cooled down, fill the radiator, after I reset the lower hose and tighten the clamp. Truck runs good, good oil pressure, thank God.
So, let's recap, shall we? I have someone I trusted steal from me. I busted the front glass out of my cap, and almost got involved in a car accident when a cop was parked in the left hand lane on the highway and the car ahead of me - in the right lane - panicked. Almost blew my damned truck up because it appears some douche bag wants to play games.
Here I sit, not wanting to touch anything in case something else goes to hell on me.
Left the house to go finish moving my **** out of the shop. I moved the majority of it out last week. Get there to find out my business partner has changed the locks. With about a half dozen of my welding clamps that weren't in my toolbox and an engine stand still locked inside. Must have pissed him off that I took my toolbox out and he couldn't make money off my tools.
Check the loader to see if the key is in it so I can load a couple of engines and transmissions. Of course, not.
So, in locking me out because he's afraid I'm gonna steel from him, he turns into the thief.
I look over in the junk pile and he was nice enough to throw some of my parts in it. And burn the passenger side seat to my nephew's Cordoba, as the burnt out frame is laying on the junk pile.
His wife comes out the door and I go off about the ******* doing what he did. She immediately goes back in the house. Probably to call the thief.
I get my body cart loaded and am so pissed I forget to lock it down. It runs all the way forward and into the front glass of the cap. Mashed glass all over the place. A nice big mound of all over the driveway where the thief has to drive. Hope he gets a flat.
Jamison, my nephew, shows up with his D150 to help me get the last coupla loads out. He's about to flip ape s*** when he sees his seat.
Well, with no loader to bring the engines to the truck he tries to get the truck to the engines. No go, the two wheel drive won't go up the hill to the side shed. But it digs some nice grooves into the muddy, wet lawn.
I back my truck up the hill, push the thief's four wheeler out of the way so I can get the old cherry picker to the engines and Jamison and I load the engines into my truck, which will make 'em harder to unload into the shed once we get home.
But we get it accomplished.
But that was just the start. Get home, get things unloaded, and decide to go grab a bite to eat. Jamison, my best friend, Karli, and I load into our trucks and go to the local Asian buffet.
Come out and my truck won't start. Fine, we roll it out and Jamison gets behind me with his Dodge and we push start it.
On the way home, my F150 starts loosing power and starts rattling. I pull to the side of the road and it shuts down. Fine. Pop the hood. Lots of steam, but the radiator cap is ice cold. My lower clamp is loose. Now, mind you, the temp gauge is dead. Won't move to save it's life and I've been meaning to put in a gauge pod on the A-pillar for temp, volt, and oil pressure. Guess I need to make room in my million item list of things to do to get it coming and get the gauges installed.
Jamison runs Karli home and fills buckets. He also grabs the tow chain off the 351 since we needed the tow chain to load the engines.
While I'm standing along side the road waiting for the kid to get back I get a funky smell out of the radiator. It's a smell that's familiar, but I can't place it. Then it dawns on me: muriatic acid. Great... someone's been f***ing around with my truck and I think I have a good guess who. The neighbor next door, with all the posted signs up his place. Around here, owning a house with no yard and putting up posted signs is a good sign of a meth lab... and muriatic acid is one of the ingredients used to manufacture the s***.
We get the F150 towed home, get it cooled down, fill the radiator, after I reset the lower hose and tighten the clamp. Truck runs good, good oil pressure, thank God.
So, let's recap, shall we? I have someone I trusted steal from me. I busted the front glass out of my cap, and almost got involved in a car accident when a cop was parked in the left hand lane on the highway and the car ahead of me - in the right lane - panicked. Almost blew my damned truck up because it appears some douche bag wants to play games.
Here I sit, not wanting to touch anything in case something else goes to hell on me.
