My dear son Travis is trying to get a vehicle on the road. The first one he bought was an old junker and it came home tied together with bungee straps. The steering column was ruined and was removed and a new one ordered. It has to sit where it is until it can be steered. Drat! Then a Lexus came home, but it did not work either because the wiring was fried. A new wiring harness was ordered, however; they sent the wrong one, so it sits just out of view, behind the first junker. Then a truck came home. It is in working condition, but not drivable, due to not being half there. The back half is missing. Then another truck came home. Last night, with Travis behind the wheel of the non-functional red truck and with me in the skid steer backing up, I pulled the wreck into the yard. I tried to go to bed early, however; Travis rousted me from my warm bed with a plea for help. So, now, I have four vehicles that do not work parked dead in my front yard. My own truck needs a new transmission and I have been on the hunt for a replacement truck because the new transmission can cost upwards of three grand. For another thousand I can find a newer, in better shape, truck that has no issues, hopefully. I am on the lookout. In the meantime, the yard is now a junkyard with an orange balaclava and coverall mechanic at work in the frigid weather. Hmmm, I wish I could get him to clear the sidewalks with as much gusto as he attacks a dead vehicle.
Fluffy writes daily about the experiences on the farm and with the bed and breakfast patrons.