The Hustle

I read an article today over on Road & Track about a gentleman by the name of Binks, fascinating article, not just because I'm an avid fan of the the C7.R racing program, because I'm more then just an avid fan of racing. I probably give it more time then I should.

It's more about the hustle, the intensity of those situations. When things have to get done, not by the end of the week or when you get a chance. But now, right now, actually why isn't it already done kind of situations.

When the pressure is so high that failing is not an option. That eating, sleeping, even going to the bathroom are somehow magically suppressed. It's the hustle,  that hustle that some people have to complete any given task.

The drive to win or just set out to achieve a given goal. I set out to put a solid daily on the road for as little cash out of pocket that I could. I've come close, maybe a few Benjamins past the mark, but I've hustled to get close.

It could be I come from one of the last generations that still want to work for it, or I just grew up around people that are willing to work for it. I could have bought a car that was a turn key shiner, I had the cash to do so,  but there was no sence of achievement in that.

The  Black Pearl rests in the very same metaphor. I could burn the credit cards at both ends, buy all the fancy off the shelf nik naks that would drop right in. However there's no sense of aucompleshment in that, no pride in my work, no need to hustle.

Somewhere in the far reaches of my brain there is a little bit that says "if you don't struggle for your art, it's not yours" it could be an over exaggerated sense that what I'm trying for is some kind of art, maybe it is, maybe it isn't. Either way, when something is finished and I sit back on the porch and sip at my malted barelys, I feel as though of done something that has left my mark on the world, even it may only be ever so small.

The same mind drives the daily process, pushing to get things done. I wonder what it'll be like it 10 years, when those who won't hustled have somehow managed to weasel away the power. I guess maybe they are hustling someone else, while I had my head down working.

Either way I like to hear that if you push, and put in the hardest work, longest hours, break the most knuckles and carry all the burden on your shoulders. You can still be rewarded for your achievements.

I'll keep hustling

Satin paint

Another dawn of spring has brought with it countless chores, dandelions and the realization that I didn't spend near enough time over the winter months preparing myself for this eventuality.

I was planning on pulling the radiator out and detailing it. Polish the tanks, repaint the core, maybe throw in some new hoses and anti-freeze, give it a nice little shine. Maybe sand it down and throw some fresh satin black under the hood.

I had all the these glorious plans as the temperatures began to fall. I was gonna get my air pressure finally settled into a comfortable place, take the old ship in and actually get an alignment. Take a little time to reroute some wiring and gauges, maybe, just maybe finally install a radio.

I was gonna do a lot of things, but there is always a lot things to be done. Even if I could have a stack of cash sitting in front of me, with a dedicated team of specialists that where able to fill all my requests at the drop of a hat, I don't think I could ever go down that road.

The road traveled in the Black Pearl is the road earned the right to be on. The adventure and experiences garnered during the travels to set wind at your back make the sunset a little brighter.

It's the gallon pickle jar full of random nuts and bolts that you sift through on the garage floor because "seriously! , I saw one in here!" Is more of a challenge then a declaration, like Lego's for the adulted. It's calculating the fuel mileage on a car with a heavy pedal and no fuel gauge, "Well...I should make it".

Sometimes the task is merely the adventure unto itself, proving to yourself that despite all limitations, lack of tools, talent and knowledge your able to resurrect an otherwise sinking ship.

So, I didn't get it all done this year, I have a detailed list now of the first things I want to get started on.....atleast as soon as I'm done with the lawn.

Clark Kent

There hasn't been much wind in the sails of the Black Pearl this last month or so. It's been one thing after another requiring attention.

The wreck, the appraisal, the verdict, then the subsequent fight for the bombers value. After all the dust settled and the check was cut, it was off to the list of Craig to see if he had any little gems hiding in his chest.

I searched and scrounged, I made good decisions and bad. I panicked, I pleaded, I was short on time and long on needs.

There are so many little things that a daily must live up to. Fuel economy, child seat fitment, ease of maintenance, repair costs. Then there are the personal requests that require thought. It's your ride through the cosmos 97% of the time, so it has some responsibilities. Any old slush box would do the trick, any of them.

I've got the wheel in my hand, it's always there, it's there when I wake and there when I go to sleep. When I turn the key and begin the daily commute, it's that one corner that you wait for. The off ramp you down shift halfway through, the spot that your invisible to prying eyes.

For mine, it's on the way home, halfway between turning the key and needing to be normal. It's nothing amazing in the world of speed.

Just a casual 3rd lope, then check the mirrors,  drop to 2nd, match the revs, take it out to 4000 rpm and pull down to the left, 45 degrees with a rough stumble at the apex.It'll never make a list of anything, but it's on my trip and I've made it my own. Lights get in the way, traffic jambs up the commute at times, but it's those little spots.

Then there the staging lanes. That guy in the BMW convertable with the top down and the tinted windows up that creaps up on the right and sets his tires on the line.
That idle glance he gives as he looks over at my wagon, I can almost hear him everytime. "Ha, soccer mom!"

That bitter taste of crow must have been enjoyable the rest of the way home. 1.8 turbo and 5 speed for this wagon.

Welcome to the family Clark.

The side project

The Unauthorized autobiography of John Butler

I've decided that I need a hobby, I've taken my favorite road tunes and began to elaborate on it.

I'm attempting to tell the story of Black Sabbath's "Iron Man"

Here is an excerpt from it, the Black Pearl may need a better stereo.

Sabbath Bloody Sabbath

"I know why you're here! " General Carl Southerland said, spitting blood from his mouth as he crawled to his hands and knees. " This won't change anything, it was never my decision to make, I only followed orders, the same as you." Gasping for air from a punctured lung " You think that you're the worlds savior, that you have come to right the wrongs of society. Maybe you will, but you'll never live to see the results! They'll come for you, even if you kill all of us, they'll still find you and kill you! You're dead anyway, you've been dead inside for a long time! Your bullshit just won't let you see it" Southerland paused,"How's the wife and daughter?" With that the final blow, breaking another four ribs and causing severe internal bleeding. He stood there quietly and watched as Southerland gasped and struggled to to get to his feet, while his lungs quickly filled with blood. No remorse, no emotion, not even a bat of the eye. He hasn't been able to feel anything in twenty years it's true. " No one ever tells you when you ask the reasons why, they just tell you that you're on your own, fill your head all full of lies, living just for dying, dying just for you!"

Tuesday 3:11 p.m.

He sat in the drivers seat of his '67 Mercedes waiting for the school to let out, staring through the windshield as the children filled out of the door. Mind in another place, a place filled with hatred and death. His wife couldn't comprehend the things he had seen, she could only sit there and tell him about her day. "You won't believe the house I found, it's a split level on Walnut St., three blocks from the Carlson's place" Cynthia  said "It's perfect for us, I've scheduled a walk through with realtor tomorrow at 6:30, You can make that?". "You can make that right?" , she pointed the comment with a tone "It's like you're not even listening to me!, where are you right now?" "I'm sorry" he said" there's a lot going on at the office right now."