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Kiffies: *get ready for school*
Voodoo: :D ?
Kiffies: *toss stuff in car*
Voodoo: :D !
Kiffies: *ignition*
Voodoo: VRUM vrum vrum vrum. :3
Kiffies: :3
Voodoo: *hard left turn* THUNK!
Kiffies: (._.) ?
Voodoo: *accelerate* THUNK!
Kiffies: D: ?
Voodoo: *idling, sounds fine* Grun grun grun grun. :3
Kiffies: o_O
Voodoo: *pulls into parking spot*
Kiffies: *go to engine compartment* <(._.)> Open up.
Voodoo: *does so -- vomits battery*
Kiffies: (._.)
Voodoo: :D
Kiffies: *hit head against wall*
| (._. )
|._. )
| (._. )
|._. )
Voodoo is fine now, but it took some work to get her battery back into place. Of course, this happened the day I had a midterm. v(._.)v
Voodoo: :D ?
Kiffies: *toss stuff in car*
Voodoo: :D !
Kiffies: *ignition*
Voodoo: VRUM vrum vrum vrum. :3
Kiffies: :3
Voodoo: *hard left turn* THUNK!
Kiffies: (._.) ?
Voodoo: *accelerate* THUNK!
Kiffies: D: ?
Voodoo: *idling, sounds fine* Grun grun grun grun. :3
Kiffies: o_O
Voodoo: *pulls into parking spot*
Kiffies: *go to engine compartment* <(._.)> Open up.
Voodoo: *does so -- vomits battery*
Kiffies: (._.)
Voodoo: :D
Kiffies: *hit head against wall*
| (._. )
|._. )
| (._. )
|._. )
Voodoo is fine now, but it took some work to get her battery back into place. Of course, this happened the day I had a midterm. v(._.)v
A few pictures that I really like, and want to have linked. (I tend to lose stuff when I transfer to CD, so--) Some are mine, others are not.
( Pictures. )
( Pictures. )
Voodoo and the Rainstorm
Jan. 21st, 2010 11:55 amEveryone here knows that I love my car. I wouldn't trade her for anything, even though I sometimes joke about junking her, or selling her, or the host of other things that one can do to old, rusting German iron.
But there is one time of the year I honestly wish I had a new car: the rainy season.
Voodoo's windshields leak. Her doors leak. Her quarterwindows leak. (Oddly enough, her sunroof is watertight. Figure that one out.) When it rains, I have to cover her, else I get inches of water on the floor. Her cover is fabric -- one of those breathable, yet waterproof ones that supposedly allow the metal to wick moisture away and prevent rust. And, because it's fabric and not say, plastic, it does hold water. A lot of it. The cover is of a fair weight all on its own. When it's full of water, it likely weighs 40 or 50lbs. I absolutely hate lugging that thing back and forth from the car to the house. I get wet. The carpet in the house gets wet. Kiffies are very displeased, sir.
Should my parents ever come through on their plans to buy kiffies a new car, I might have to get a sort of timeshare going on with them: I'll keep Voodoo in the summer, but when winter comes around, she's parking in their garage to wait out the rain and the hail indoors.
In other news, at least Voodoo is surefooted in the rain. I have no risk of ending up like this poor breadloaf:
"Crash" (Allen J. Schaben / Los Angeles Times / January 18, 2010)
But there is one time of the year I honestly wish I had a new car: the rainy season.
Voodoo's windshields leak. Her doors leak. Her quarterwindows leak. (Oddly enough, her sunroof is watertight. Figure that one out.) When it rains, I have to cover her, else I get inches of water on the floor. Her cover is fabric -- one of those breathable, yet waterproof ones that supposedly allow the metal to wick moisture away and prevent rust. And, because it's fabric and not say, plastic, it does hold water. A lot of it. The cover is of a fair weight all on its own. When it's full of water, it likely weighs 40 or 50lbs. I absolutely hate lugging that thing back and forth from the car to the house. I get wet. The carpet in the house gets wet. Kiffies are very displeased, sir.
Should my parents ever come through on their plans to buy kiffies a new car, I might have to get a sort of timeshare going on with them: I'll keep Voodoo in the summer, but when winter comes around, she's parking in their garage to wait out the rain and the hail indoors.
In other news, at least Voodoo is surefooted in the rain. I have no risk of ending up like this poor breadloaf:
"Crash" (Allen J. Schaben / Los Angeles Times / January 18, 2010)
I just scooped two handfuls of dirt and plant matter out of Voodoo's trunk.
Most of it had settled into the indentations of the gas tank, but some of it was in the dash wiring. I had wondered why I smelled wood burning a few days ago...
Most of it had settled into the indentations of the gas tank, but some of it was in the dash wiring. I had wondered why I smelled wood burning a few days ago...
A kiffie's reaction to locking her keys in the car should not be, I don't think, "Oh, god, NOT AGAIN."
*sigh*
I'm going to go make a copy of my door key and leave it in the house or sew it into my hat or SOMETHING.
(And, yes, I got my keys back. Wire-bound notebooks are my friend.)
*sigh*
I'm going to go make a copy of my door key and leave it in the house or sew it into my hat or SOMETHING.
(And, yes, I got my keys back. Wire-bound notebooks are my friend.)
Adventure!
Jan. 2nd, 2010 06:45 pmVoodoo and me? We always have to start off the new year with Adventure.
First off, let me say that neither I, nor Voodoo, are hurt. Scared as hell, and now leery of a certain intersection, but not hurt.
I drove back to SLO, today. I left the house much later than I'd anticipated, perhaps by an hour, though likely more. Maybe that affected my judgment? I don't know.
Voodoo needed gas. Instead of getting it at the corner (it's very expensive), I decided to go down a few blocks, across Garfield, and save a dime.
Garfield is a busy, busy street. It's got two freeway onramps, multiple other offramps, underpasses, driveways, turn lanes... the works. Where I crossed, at Hellman, Garfield has one other feature: an incline that makes the intersection blind for people approaching from the North. General logic would tell you to slow down if you can't see the intersection. Who knows what could be there, right? Well, people in Alhambra do not use logic. If they did, Voodoo wouldn't have a metric ton of Bondo in her fender.
Anyway -- I approached Garfield from Hellman. My view was unobstructed, save for the two or three cars lined up in the lefthand turn lane. The light was red, so they weren't moving. As I got within fifty feet, the light turned green. I'd been coasting in neutral, ready to stop, but as the light flicked over, I put Voodoo back into third and went on through.
Ten feet into the intersection, someone blared their horn. I turned my head, trying to figure out where the sound came from, and all I could see was grille and headlights on my left. Then there was a loud, horrendous screech. Tires. His, not mine. I didn't brake. Thank God, or Voodoo would have had another ton of Bondo added to her tail. I remember honking back, more offended than shocked, but then I think I blacked out for a second. I don't actively remember getting through the intersection. The next thing I do remember is pulling over to the side of the road, half a block down the street, and checking Voodoo for damage. Shock got to me, then. My knees shook so bad, I couldn't stand. I kneeled there, in the street, running my hands over the car door, the fender, the tail, convincing myself that nothing was dented.
I don't think I would have been so worked up had I actually been hit. It was just the shock of ALMOST getting hit. The thought of how close it was. I remember talking to another Ghia owner about accidents, once. He'd been T-boned in his Ghia when he was younger. It took him years to learn to talk again. I sat in the car and mulled over that. But something was still bugging me. Then it clicked -- the other person had run a red, almost hit me, and probably some other folks, and hadn't even stopped. Hell, he'd honked at ME for being in HIS way! Fucker!
I went on the gas station, but spent the ten-or-so minutes it took to get gas and fix Voodoo's horn (it fell off after I'd honked at the other car) mentally using every curse word I know. I hate Alhambra. No one cares about anyone else, especially when they drive. It's never "I'm sorry I was in your way," but "Get out of MY way!"
I hope that idiot gets a flat. It'll keep him off the road, and maybe save someone else some damage. Or medical bills.
First off, let me say that neither I, nor Voodoo, are hurt. Scared as hell, and now leery of a certain intersection, but not hurt.
I drove back to SLO, today. I left the house much later than I'd anticipated, perhaps by an hour, though likely more. Maybe that affected my judgment? I don't know.
Voodoo needed gas. Instead of getting it at the corner (it's very expensive), I decided to go down a few blocks, across Garfield, and save a dime.
Garfield is a busy, busy street. It's got two freeway onramps, multiple other offramps, underpasses, driveways, turn lanes... the works. Where I crossed, at Hellman, Garfield has one other feature: an incline that makes the intersection blind for people approaching from the North. General logic would tell you to slow down if you can't see the intersection. Who knows what could be there, right? Well, people in Alhambra do not use logic. If they did, Voodoo wouldn't have a metric ton of Bondo in her fender.
Anyway -- I approached Garfield from Hellman. My view was unobstructed, save for the two or three cars lined up in the lefthand turn lane. The light was red, so they weren't moving. As I got within fifty feet, the light turned green. I'd been coasting in neutral, ready to stop, but as the light flicked over, I put Voodoo back into third and went on through.
Ten feet into the intersection, someone blared their horn. I turned my head, trying to figure out where the sound came from, and all I could see was grille and headlights on my left. Then there was a loud, horrendous screech. Tires. His, not mine. I didn't brake. Thank God, or Voodoo would have had another ton of Bondo added to her tail. I remember honking back, more offended than shocked, but then I think I blacked out for a second. I don't actively remember getting through the intersection. The next thing I do remember is pulling over to the side of the road, half a block down the street, and checking Voodoo for damage. Shock got to me, then. My knees shook so bad, I couldn't stand. I kneeled there, in the street, running my hands over the car door, the fender, the tail, convincing myself that nothing was dented.
I don't think I would have been so worked up had I actually been hit. It was just the shock of ALMOST getting hit. The thought of how close it was. I remember talking to another Ghia owner about accidents, once. He'd been T-boned in his Ghia when he was younger. It took him years to learn to talk again. I sat in the car and mulled over that. But something was still bugging me. Then it clicked -- the other person had run a red, almost hit me, and probably some other folks, and hadn't even stopped. Hell, he'd honked at ME for being in HIS way! Fucker!
I went on the gas station, but spent the ten-or-so minutes it took to get gas and fix Voodoo's horn (it fell off after I'd honked at the other car) mentally using every curse word I know. I hate Alhambra. No one cares about anyone else, especially when they drive. It's never "I'm sorry I was in your way," but "Get out of MY way!"
I hope that idiot gets a flat. It'll keep him off the road, and maybe save someone else some damage. Or medical bills.
I might be going to see the Rose Parade with Mad Engineer.
That is, if he holds up to his bargain and gets me a ticket*. Mad Engineer works on the floats, you see, and gets so many free tickets as payment. However, I haven't spoken to him in a few days, and my phone lacks messages from... well... anyone.
SO--
Should he flake, I could cover Voodoo in flowers and have my own Rose Parade.
Y/N?
*Note: The parade is free, but tickets mean actual seats, instead of standing/pushing/shoving/dealing with rude peoples who stand in front of a spot you'd parked out in for a day and a half.
That is, if he holds up to his bargain and gets me a ticket*. Mad Engineer works on the floats, you see, and gets so many free tickets as payment. However, I haven't spoken to him in a few days, and my phone lacks messages from... well... anyone.
SO--
Should he flake, I could cover Voodoo in flowers and have my own Rose Parade.
Y/N?
*Note: The parade is free, but tickets mean actual seats, instead of standing/pushing/shoving/dealing with rude peoples who stand in front of a spot you'd parked out in for a day and a half.
Someday, I will have a car with an actual trunk.
Went grocery shopping today and discovered that the jump seat's limit for groceries (assuming no stacking of plastic bags) is two 20lb bags of kitty litter and five bags of foodstuffs. I couldn't stack anything because most of the bags had squishy stuff in them. :/
I could have piled stuff on the passenger seat/floor, but I've had this end badly before. Besides, some of my cargo was volatile! Can you imagine: Sudden stop + six glass bottles of soda + floor-mounted fire extinguisher = kiffies needing a bath.
I wish Jeeves would hurry up and get better. I miss having TWO trunks to cart stuff in.
(Plus, if you put a pizza in Jeeves' rear trunk, it stayed warm the whole way home.)
Went grocery shopping today and discovered that the jump seat's limit for groceries (assuming no stacking of plastic bags) is two 20lb bags of kitty litter and five bags of foodstuffs. I couldn't stack anything because most of the bags had squishy stuff in them. :/
I could have piled stuff on the passenger seat/floor, but I've had this end badly before. Besides, some of my cargo was volatile! Can you imagine: Sudden stop + six glass bottles of soda + floor-mounted fire extinguisher = kiffies needing a bath.
I wish Jeeves would hurry up and get better. I miss having TWO trunks to cart stuff in.
(Plus, if you put a pizza in Jeeves' rear trunk, it stayed warm the whole way home.)
((._.)) Brrrr.
Dec. 14th, 2009 08:15 pmThis morning, I loaded up Voodoo with all my crud and made for LA.
Leaving as early as I did (5am), I learned two things:
1) It's wonderful to have two working foglamps again. I hadn't realized how much my field of vision had been reduced until I was out in the pitch-black. Wowza.
2) When the heater isn't on*, Voodoo stays cold enough to keep meat in. Seriously. I'd had a roast in the fridge at the apartment. Since I'm gone until after the first, I figured I'd bring it home for noms. So I took it out of the freezer, put it in a bag, wrapped that in a blanket, and kept it in the passenger seat (away from the engine). The trip was about four hours. When I pulled into the garage, I handed the meat off to my mom to put in the icebox... It was still rock-hard.
You can imagine, then, how cold a kiffies was.
*I didn't run the heater because I was afraid the meat would thaw and spoil.
Leaving as early as I did (5am), I learned two things:
1) It's wonderful to have two working foglamps again. I hadn't realized how much my field of vision had been reduced until I was out in the pitch-black. Wowza.
2) When the heater isn't on*, Voodoo stays cold enough to keep meat in. Seriously. I'd had a roast in the fridge at the apartment. Since I'm gone until after the first, I figured I'd bring it home for noms. So I took it out of the freezer, put it in a bag, wrapped that in a blanket, and kept it in the passenger seat (away from the engine). The trip was about four hours. When I pulled into the garage, I handed the meat off to my mom to put in the icebox... It was still rock-hard.
You can imagine, then, how cold a kiffies was.
*I didn't run the heater because I was afraid the meat would thaw and spoil.
Basic Repairs
Dec. 2nd, 2009 10:32 pm
One of the most common interior fixes on old VWs -- re-screwing the window cranks back on their posts. This one fell off when I'd reached inside to grab my camera.
Voodoo-- ! ( ._.)9
Nov. 30th, 2009 01:12 pmYou're lucky you're pretty, car.
Sometime during the trip back from LA, Voodoo ate her oil cap seal.
I came out this morning to a puddle of oil in the engine compartment.
I got to school okay, cleaned up the further spill when I parked, and bought some electrical tape after class. I taped the cap on as tight as I could before heading off to Broadstreet.
Oddly, they didn't have a cap. So I had to go clear across town to parts supply store (praying the whole way that Voodoo's tail wouldn't combust into a fireball), where I was handed a shiny new cap that fits awesomely. Yay!
This never happens to Bugs.
Sometime during the trip back from LA, Voodoo ate her oil cap seal.
I came out this morning to a puddle of oil in the engine compartment.
I got to school okay, cleaned up the further spill when I parked, and bought some electrical tape after class. I taped the cap on as tight as I could before heading off to Broadstreet.
Oddly, they didn't have a cap. So I had to go clear across town to parts supply store (praying the whole way that Voodoo's tail wouldn't combust into a fireball), where I was handed a shiny new cap that fits awesomely. Yay!
This never happens to Bugs.
Today, I went to Staples to turn in some old batteries for recycling.
I'd pulled into the lot and was circling to find a spot. I saw two Triumphs-- a TR-6 and a Spitfire --sitting off to one side, together. I'd never had a chance to see a Spitfire up close before, so I pulled Voodoo up alongside, right near the two car's bums, and looked them over. I suppose I got a little distracted, because next thing I know, there was a car pulled up behind me, making impatient "well, move!" sounds. It was another Triumph.
I moved.
I took Voodoo past a shrub divider that separated the Staples/World Market lot from the hotel lot. At the stop, I got a chance to look over at the other lot. It was absolutely full of Triumphs. At least a hundred, likely more. Old, sleek machines with shining paint. Less-appealing newer, boxy things with plastic-looking bodies. Clean cars, project cars, parts cars. Older men and women were mucking around, talking, opening the hoods of the little sportscars and fiddling with the innards. As I came around the corner to go back into the Staples lot, some of the men looked up. They didn't seem terribly impressed.
I hurriedly found a spot and turned in my batteries. As I was leaving, I briefly considered driving through the hotel lot to look at the cars. I decided against it. Something about the folks just didn't seem friendly.
I'd pulled into the lot and was circling to find a spot. I saw two Triumphs-- a TR-6 and a Spitfire --sitting off to one side, together. I'd never had a chance to see a Spitfire up close before, so I pulled Voodoo up alongside, right near the two car's bums, and looked them over. I suppose I got a little distracted, because next thing I know, there was a car pulled up behind me, making impatient "well, move!" sounds. It was another Triumph.
I moved.
I took Voodoo past a shrub divider that separated the Staples/World Market lot from the hotel lot. At the stop, I got a chance to look over at the other lot. It was absolutely full of Triumphs. At least a hundred, likely more. Old, sleek machines with shining paint. Less-appealing newer, boxy things with plastic-looking bodies. Clean cars, project cars, parts cars. Older men and women were mucking around, talking, opening the hoods of the little sportscars and fiddling with the innards. As I came around the corner to go back into the Staples lot, some of the men looked up. They didn't seem terribly impressed.
I hurriedly found a spot and turned in my batteries. As I was leaving, I briefly considered driving through the hotel lot to look at the cars. I decided against it. Something about the folks just didn't seem friendly.
And I Didn't Get Zapped Once!
Sep. 19th, 2009 11:25 pmYesterday, I left Voodoo's lights on when I parked.
Predictably, the battery died.
After two failed jump attempts, I realized that the battery was not just dead, it was VERY dead. It wouldn't zombie even if I asked it to. Still, considering it was almost ten years old, it's not like I was expecting much.
So, today, random drove me down to the auto store and I bought a new battery.
I got it on with no trouble (though random's dad, down for her birfday, did help a bit when I balked at the hot cable).
I would call this a success. :D
Predictably, the battery died.
After two failed jump attempts, I realized that the battery was not just dead, it was VERY dead. It wouldn't zombie even if I asked it to. Still, considering it was almost ten years old, it's not like I was expecting much.
So, today, random drove me down to the auto store and I bought a new battery.
I got it on with no trouble (though random's dad, down for her birfday, did help a bit when I balked at the hot cable).
I would call this a success. :D
Driving in SLO
Aug. 25th, 2009 11:28 pmToday, I very nearly died.
Twice.
I'd gone out to get pizza, a total driving distance of three blocks in each direction. (I drove because I didn't want to walk past Frat Row at that time of day, and didn't want to have the pizza cool by the time I got home.) As I approached the local Albertson's driveway, I saw a Dodge rolling out. I was in the far left lane, so I didn't think much of it. I did keep my eye on him, however, as I am generally watchful.
It was good that I did.
At about 100 feet, he was stopped at the driveway, and had begun to roll. At 50, he was still rolling and had most of his car into the righthand lane. This is not uncommon for people making a turn across all four lanes, so I wasn't on full alert yet. At 20 feet, he was still rolling and had picked up speed. He was almost entirely in front of me, in my lane. At this point, I put my own left wheels over the center line of the road and honked. He looked me in the eyes as I passed him. He looked angry. At me. For being in his way. He never once braked or took any action to avoid me. If I hadn't moved, Voodoo's nose would have been smearing him into his own dashboard.
I don't even know.
If that weren't enough, on the way home, someone tried to merge too closely behind me while I was braking to turn into my driveway. They caught themselves and righted, but the folks behind them ran up my tail when they saw the way was "clear," totally ignoring my lit brake lights.
AUGH.
Twice.
I'd gone out to get pizza, a total driving distance of three blocks in each direction. (I drove because I didn't want to walk past Frat Row at that time of day, and didn't want to have the pizza cool by the time I got home.) As I approached the local Albertson's driveway, I saw a Dodge rolling out. I was in the far left lane, so I didn't think much of it. I did keep my eye on him, however, as I am generally watchful.
It was good that I did.
At about 100 feet, he was stopped at the driveway, and had begun to roll. At 50, he was still rolling and had most of his car into the righthand lane. This is not uncommon for people making a turn across all four lanes, so I wasn't on full alert yet. At 20 feet, he was still rolling and had picked up speed. He was almost entirely in front of me, in my lane. At this point, I put my own left wheels over the center line of the road and honked. He looked me in the eyes as I passed him. He looked angry. At me. For being in his way. He never once braked or took any action to avoid me. If I hadn't moved, Voodoo's nose would have been smearing him into his own dashboard.
I don't even know.
If that weren't enough, on the way home, someone tried to merge too closely behind me while I was braking to turn into my driveway. They caught themselves and righted, but the folks behind them ran up my tail when they saw the way was "clear," totally ignoring my lit brake lights.
AUGH.
When Your Gastank Reads "R"...
Jun. 19th, 2009 04:44 pmIt means jack shit.
Went to go see Hissy on Wednesday. We talked and she measured me for a waistcoat and we worked on her AX costumes.
On the way there, Jeeves decided to give the whole external combustion thing a try (again) by dropping a vent hose on the freeway. The engine promptly overheated and the built-up oil on the underside of one of the carbs began to burn off. Cue me and Hissy standing in front of Jeeves' bum, bucket of water at our feet, drinking tea, waiting for Jeeves to put himself out. He did. Eventually. Once everything was cool, I reconnected the vent hose.
My mom drove Voodoo over, I swapped cars with her, and she took Jeeves home for a formal look-over.
The rest of the day was relatively uneventful, save for the drive home. I hadn't gotten gas since I was in San Luis, and, by then, Voodoo's arrow was nearing the dreaded "R". Actually, by the time I pulled into the gas station, it was on "R".
After all of the crap that had gone down with Jeeves, I just wanted to get gas without incident.
Pfft.
Kiffies: *double-check that the gas tank does, indeed, read "R"*
Gas Tank: 'Sup.
Kiffies: *nod and begin to pump gas*
Voodoo: :9
Gas Tank: *hiccup*
Fuel Pump: *kicks off at 7 gallons*
Kiffies: ...you are kidding me.
Voodoo: *sipping contentedly*
Kiffies: LYING. WHORE.
Voodoo: :3
So it looks like my gas gauge is FUBAR'd. Whoo.
Went to go see Hissy on Wednesday. We talked and she measured me for a waistcoat and we worked on her AX costumes.
On the way there, Jeeves decided to give the whole external combustion thing a try (again) by dropping a vent hose on the freeway. The engine promptly overheated and the built-up oil on the underside of one of the carbs began to burn off. Cue me and Hissy standing in front of Jeeves' bum, bucket of water at our feet, drinking tea, waiting for Jeeves to put himself out. He did. Eventually. Once everything was cool, I reconnected the vent hose.
My mom drove Voodoo over, I swapped cars with her, and she took Jeeves home for a formal look-over.
The rest of the day was relatively uneventful, save for the drive home. I hadn't gotten gas since I was in San Luis, and, by then, Voodoo's arrow was nearing the dreaded "R". Actually, by the time I pulled into the gas station, it was on "R".
After all of the crap that had gone down with Jeeves, I just wanted to get gas without incident.
Pfft.
Kiffies: *double-check that the gas tank does, indeed, read "R"*
Gas Tank: 'Sup.
Kiffies: *nod and begin to pump gas*
Voodoo: :9
Gas Tank: *hiccup*
Fuel Pump: *kicks off at 7 gallons*
Kiffies: ...you are kidding me.
Voodoo: *sipping contentedly*
Kiffies: LYING. WHORE.
Voodoo: :3
So it looks like my gas gauge is FUBAR'd. Whoo.
