W-Machine

A lady that I have recently been keeping company with actually said, "I'd like to watch you work on a model." after seeing some of my finished builds. Frankly, I'm MYSTIFIED by this. I imagine that it would be like watching paint dry. I was able to talk my late wife into building a model in (I think) 1988, when we were dating and she was 18. Can someone explain this request from a woman in her late 40s? I reckoned that a woman of that age would know better.

As a recent widower after nearly 20 years of marriage (almost 27 together), I can concur.

A beer commercial said it best a few years ago: Some days are better than others. Maybe tomorrow will be a better day for you.

My father was tragically killed while riding his bicycle on 13 January 2014. I wrote, and read, this at his funeral service yesterday. He was 73. Now, first off, let's have a show of hands from everyone that Pop might have “screwed with” at some time or another. OK, I'm a little disappointed that I'm not seeing 100% participation. Pop routinely enjoyed a ridiculous gag or prank at someone's expense. But the things that Pop really enjoyed were fairly simple. Biking, hunting and fishing with his buddies, spending time with the kids within his sphere of influence (especially his grandchildren, Bridget, Erin, and Peter), traveling, and I certainly won't neglect to mention that I think that he was at his happiest with Brenda. Brenda did manage to grind a few of the “rough edges” off of the old man, but he needed that. One of those “rough edges” was Pop's penchant for frugality that was the stuff of legend growing up. A good example of this was his enthusiasm for the Ford Pinto. Pop LOVED Ford Pintos beginning in the late '70s and lasting until well into the '80s for a number of reasons. They were cheap, thanks to the slipshod engineering that rendered them a fiery deathtrap in a rear-end collision. The bottom fell out of the market on Pintos once word got out about that. Good fuel economy. They were cheap. Pretty dependable, and while they were crude even by the standards of the day, easy to repair. Did I forget to mention that they were cheap? Anyway, Pop owned FOUR of those wretched conveyances, torturing his own children by forcing us to ride in vehicles devoid of ANY optional comfort or convenience equipment. You know, like air conditioning. Would've been nice in the summer. I think all four of us learned to drive in a Ford Pinto. The signature “Ford Pinto Episode” occurred when Pop pulled into a gas station and asked the attendant to put in something like three bucks worth of gas. This was back in the days when you could buy more than ¾ of a gallon of gas for three bucks. A half penny short of the desired amount, the nozzle shut off, and the attendant began to pull the nozzle out. Naturally, Pop wanted that 1/200th of a dollar's worth of gas in his Pinto, because everyone knows that a Pinto with a full gas tank represents entertainment value. For the fire department. A spirited discussion ensued, and ultimately, Pop got that half-penny squirt of gas. Yes, it WAS ridiculous. I gave the old man hell about that incident for more than 30 years. And he didn't mind that I poked fun at it. That's what Pop was like in real life. He realized that we are all the butt of a joke at some point. Here's where I graciously bow out, and allow someone else to share a tale that might cause a smile. Bring on the crazy story of poor judgment or stupid humor. I think that's what Pop would have wanted. Have at it. My brother, scheduled to speak next, asked, "How the hell am I supposed to follow that?"

Al, sorry to hear about your Christmas tragedy. We've all got plenty of battle scars from self-inflicted X-Acto wounds, but I sure never got one THERE! Be prepared to take some good-natured ribbing from the JSMCC guys next month. Oh yeah, and my best wishes for a prosperous and productive 2014 go out to you and the missus.

What's not to like about a '69 H/O? Looks real nice!

That's a nice one, Al!

By trade, I am a municipal tax assessor. I am regarded as more evil than an SS officer, yet not as repulsive as flesh-eating bacteria. My neighbors don't know what I do for a living. They think that I'm a contractor or something. I get into a pick-'em-up every morning and come back at night. I'm not gonna tell 'em. Would you?

Carl Slusher is one of the good guys. The kind of guy who, to me, has exemplified what all of us in the model car community should aspire to be.

Nice! Love the Lego scenery.

Very cool first-gen Rivvie, Carl.

By trade, I am a municipal tax assessor. Listing all of the things that "irk" me in the course of a day, starting with greedy lawyers, stupid politicians (and greedy lawyers who become stupid politicians), ignorant property owners, etc. would hijack the thread. Head to head, there is not one human being reading this that can top me, and I know it. If you think you can, show me what you've got. I build model cars because it gives me an escape from the 1:1 world. Go figure.

Very well-done. The Blackbird, at 50 years old, still looks like it came from another planet. If I were President, it would be Air Force One.

OK, I'll bite. I actually wanna buy the darned thing now.

So many friends, both within the community and everywhere else, have offered kind words and acts to help me through this. I am grateful, and overwhelmed.

My wife, Lisa, has passed. She was kind, decent, generous, intelligent at a genius level, and was all that a man could hope for. She thought of model building as good, clean fun, and a harmless pastime for me. Lisa encouraged building with my nieces and especially my nephew, Jared, and never thought of it as something that I spent too much money or time on. She was 43, and suffered terribly from rheumatoid arthritis, the worst complications of which are what claimed her far too soon. My life, as I have known it, is now over.

Hard to believe that someone looked at the styling of a Corvette, any Corvette, and thought that THIS was better than whatever GM pays their stylists for. Even the unloved Pontiac Aztek was not as ugly as that thing.

To this day, an example of what a hero is to me goes something like this: A guy who puts in 20 missions as a ball-turret gunner on a B-17 over Occupied Europe, where every time he gets into that plane, dozens of people try to kill him. Mission 21 brings down his plane over, say, Schweinfurt. The guy spends a year and a half as a POW, which is not nearly as much fun as it was portrayed in "Hogan's Heroes". After the war, he just settles down to raise a family, run a business, and never really talks about what he did in the war, except maybe to mention that he was in the Air Corps. Yeah, I just might get one of those B-17s.

Now that's a fine looking Eldo!

Glad to hear that you're back to building. It really is therapeutic, and will certainly ease what must be a very stressful situation.

They certainly dress up a flattie quite nicely. What's not to like?

Very cool, and that color is very sharp.

Having watched my retirement savings plans take a beating over the last few years, I now know the important questions that I will be asking when I reach "retirement age". Those questions are, "Paper or plastic?" and "Would you like fries with that?". I hope you enjoy a long, happy retirement building all the stuff you ever wanted to.

A local talk radio host ranted about his selection for jury duty, and floated the notion that professional jurors would free average folks from having to serve. I called in, and proclaimed it a fantastic idea, since such things were so successful in countries run by dictatorships. Conviction rates would approach 100%, because after all, you wouldn't have been arrested in the first place if you didn't do something. Not realizing that he had just become the butt of my joke, the guy went on for at least another twenty minutes about how brilliant he was, and praised my intellectual prowess for "agreeing" with him.

Oh my, that is TINY! You did fine work detailing all that really little stuff!