Action Figure Daniel

Author: Daniel

  • My Car Elazar and the Problem of the Signal

    As many who have ridden in my car in the past while can attest, Elazar has been getting progressively vocal about his feelings and opinions. At first I thought this was just a phase and that he would grow out of it. He didn’t .

    His new found power of expression came shortly after his turn signals were fixed. His turn signal box was recalled-ish (Chevrolet has enough problems with them that they will replace them for free but not enough that they send out letters with recall information) and I got his replaced as it often prevented the turn signals from working. The problem was fixed but occasionally Elazar would randomly start clicking.

    The first time it happened was just after I dropped Tyler off at the Portland airport early in the morning. The clicker started running and I started to panic. I started flicking the turn signal back and forth trying to get it to stop while praying in my heart that my car didn’t explode. We got home safe.

    For the next several weeks Elazar only occasionally clicked, it was almost cute. Still I tried to break him of the habit. I would put him on time out only to have him start back up the moment he was off time out. I would flick the signal in hopes that it would catch some magic lever and stop his tongue. I ever avoid going places that would take a lot of signaling to get to. None of these worked.

    The drive to Idaho was fine and mostly filled with my choice of music. In Idaho the problem stayed minimal until near Valentine’s Day. I guess Elazar wanted to let everyone know how much he loved them and how glad he was to serve them. Even when he came back from surgery he was still quite chipper, much like Pollyanna. Something needed to be done.

    One Saturday morning we had a long talk and I worked with Elazar. I reminded him that even his inside voice was loud and it made it hard for other people to talk. I suggested that his instrument panel was a much more effective way to communicate his feelings and that perhaps he should use it instead of his clicker. I also took the cover off the steering column to see if I couldn’t find the problem. I couldn’t find anything. I did however hold the signal at so many odd angles that there was a brief sound of sizzle and a small puff of smoke. Knowing I could do little else I took this as my only concession and closed Elazar back up.

    The smoke and sizzle did something because for a long while he didn’t make another click, except when signaling of course, and then came the first hot day in Oregon. It wasn’t even very hot, but hot enough. Elazar started clicking as if he was imitating with Rush Limbaugh. At times it was none stop, no matter how I held the signaler he would just keep on clicking. It almost made me want to drive around with my signal on just so the clicking would be quieter, but I didn’t. Instead loud music prevailed and I stopped talking to people while I was driving.

    The clicking almost drove me to the point of taking him in the doctor, but before I could take him in I found out that he was in desperate need of tires. Not like when I was younger and we stopped liking the shoes we wore and begged for new ones. No, his tires were so thin that almost anything could have punctured them. The new tires made me too poor to take him to the doctor.  Being poor and the clicking being too bad to live with I took measures into my own hands. I operated.

    With the help of my sister Jacklyn I again uncovered the steering column. This part I knew. From my dad I was able to borrow the tool to get to where I couldn’t before. I was able to remove the signaling assembly. (The windshield wipers would like to point out that while they are connected to the signaling assembly they were working quite well and in way the cause of duress.) I pulled the assembly and carefully disassembled it.

    The answer was so simple. Elazar was talking so loudly all the time because his ears were clogged and he couldn’t hear everyone and he could barely hear himself. Through time and hot weather the grease that lubricated the signaler’s slide over the contact plates had oozed to fill in the breaks in the contacts. The car thought that the signaler was always on, in both directions! A couple of cotton swaps fixed that.

    Happy that I had found Elazar’s problem I started putting everything back together. As I was trying to cram the signal assembly and steering column back together the voice of my father kept playing in my head, “make sure it works before you put it all together.” I ignored the voice. Then it came again. I decided he might have more wisdom than I. Clicking the garage door opener I started my car. Honk! The horn went. “That’s odd,” I thought, “maybe he’s just happy to be able to hear again.

    Carefully I backed the car out of the garage and started to turn onto the street. Honk! The horn went. I stopped and slowly turned the steering wheel to the left. Honk, honk, honk! It went. I slowly turned it back. Elazar was silent. I slowly turned the wheel to the right. Hoonnkk, honk, hoonnkk! It went. I thanked the voice in my head for warning before I was compelled to drive my car to work with the car honking on my every turn.

    I pulled the car back in and pulled the steering column cover off again. I don’t quite know what all I did, just that in the end the honking stopped and the signal, lights and wipers all still work. Once I had got Elazar all put back together I again carefully backed out of the garage and turned onto the street. Elazar was again silent. I pulled forward and drove down the street. I am sure I must have looked crazy because I kept turning my signal on and off. He only clicked when he was supposed to; I was so happy.

    The next morning I drove to work almost feeling like I was driving a new car, a quiet car, a car that mostly kept to itself and when it had something to say it would try its very best to use the instrument panel. Ah the bliss of quietness.

  • New Daniel Record

    Oregon is amazing. I went running today, 5 miles. A new record. I think it was the fact that I have been running at the way high Idaho altitude and now that I am closer to see level it is easier than ever to run.

  • Scanning in my childhood

    I set a goal after arriving home that I would scan in all my childhood pictures before I went back to school. It was done three hours after I started. I love my amazing scanner.

  • My Car Elazar: The 76th mile

    As my car’s odometer ticked closer to the 100,000 mile mark I contemplated all the ways I could push it over. Trips down to the Grand Canyon over to Las Vegas and Death Valley, up into Glacier National Park and just across the border into Canada, even a quick trip home and to the beach were each planned and discarded as time wouldn’t allow for such trips, not to mention there wasn’t enough money to support them. No, the mark would have to be passed in a more humble manner. A trip to Craters of the Moon National Park was planned for Saturday. It would be good and fun trip to push the mileage past the threshold. We would make it a day long trip. I would go with my roommates and whoever else wanted to go. The snow was almost gone and the trip promised to be mostly uneventful, driving wise anyway. We would pass through the barren desert lands of Idaho; past the old signs announcing and warning of possible “bio hazardous waste” for those who would wonder off the path. Then we would continue past the open farm lands and through the nuclear charged town of Akron. The trip would stop at Pickle’s Place where we would once again participate in the delectable offering that would be provided. Then we would celebrate having tripped the 100,000 mile mark by hiking through the caves, or at least trying too. All the mistakes of old would be overcome and we would be sure to bring plenty of flashlights , snacks and water. It would be perfect.

    It didn’t happen.

    Saturday came and the evil scourge of homework consumed most everyone’s schedule for most of the morning. I ran to the store, the one on the far side of town. It was two miles. I needed cereal and soap. Soap for the body, soap for the dishes, soap for the clothes. I returned home. Few else were awake. I ate breakfast. The co-valiant roommate came over and pleaded to go back to IF, the “big city”, “THE place to be”, Idaho Falls. His laptop’s power cable wasn’t working and IF the nearest place to get it replaced. This was the third time we had made this trip for this reason in the past six months. No one else could spend the normally boundless time to take him so I agreed. The time was set and we would leave in two hours. My roommate Steve was to go with us too.

    Before we made it to IF I made another trip to the store, this time for another neighbor. He needed food. It was the nearby store so it was only another mile. Finally we headed to IF. I noted how close I was to making the mark. There should be plenty of mileage to make it back to Rexburg without going over. There might still be a fun 100,000 trip yet. In IF we went to the shirt store to buy some shirts, a different story for another time. The cable store was just another couple of miles. We decide to have a well deserved lunch break from school, about three extra miles. Then it was time to go home. There was even enough extra mileage to go to the bonfire that night, it was Tonya’s birthday.

    Sunday morning came with 76 miles left before the big mark. 76 miles was barely enough to make out to Camas and back. I drove early that Sunday morning watching the volcanic Idaho landscape slide past. The wind was blowing really hard. Twenty miles into the trip snow joined the wind and started to complicate the travel. I pulled to the side of the road to analyze the situation. Looking to the north I saw that the storm would only get worse. I returned home and got ready for church.

    The church meetings themselves were good, though in between meeting I could see that the storm had followed me down from the north and was now pestering the small city of Rexburg. We had long ago determined that Rexburg was the headquarters of winter and thus it was the noble responsibility of every citizen to do what they could to expedite the coming of spring and end winter’s chilling rule. The storm, combined with the eagles and the snow, was a reminder that winter was not quite gone yet.

    Despite the storm I ran home. No sense in being out in the freezing wind. My roommates followed me home but needed to return to the chapel for another meeting. Normally, I would be fine with them walking but knowing the horrendous conditions outside I couldn’t stand the thought so I offered a ride. The drive back from Camas had taken longer than I thought, 74 miles to be exact. The trip to the chapel put me a mile closer.

    Once back home I started reading a book. It was rather enjoyable. My phone rang. The roommates were ready. I again bundled up and braved the cold to my car and drove back to the chapel. I look down and noted the new odometer number: 100000. I had hit the mark on my 76th mile for the day. They emerged out of the building and quickly piled into the car. With the windshield wipers trying to brush the snow away so I could see I headed back home smiling.

    I thought back at the adventures and trips I have had with Elazar, all the things we had seen and been too. We have had a good few years together and plan to have many more. My pondering was interrupted by my neighbor down the hall who had been offered a ride by my roommates.

    “Thank you,” he said, “you are a life saver.”

    “You’re welcome,” I replied. “You know what is most amazing about this?”

    “No, what?” he asked.

    “Elazar just hit his 100,000 mile,” I said still smiling.

    I love my car Elazar.

  • Spring Agony

    The stars were shining brightly on the moonless night. There was a warm breeze sifting through the green grass. He hesitated for a moment, he could wait for another night, in a week or two maybe. He shook his head causing the thought to fall to the ground beside his feet where he promptly stamped it out. He had promised it would be tonight and so, come heaven or hell, it would be tonight. He quietly retreated back into his house. The change was quick: the pants and underwear came off together in one quick push; the shirt was dragged across his chest then over his head.

    He walked over to the closet. He put on new underwear and the black shorts with the bold white stripe on either side that came with them. He selected the tight yellow and black jersey, gently pulling it over his head and back down his chest until finally it fit snugly into place. The tightness felt good on his body, like a reassuring hug that tonight was the night. He slipped on a pair of black and white socks; they too hugged him, but only up to his ankle where they stopped leaving his legs exposed until the black shorts started. He left the room being sure to grab the small black box from his desk before going.

    He sat down on the floor of the large open living room and retrieved his old gray shoes from against the wall and put them on while he stretched his legs one at a time. He noted how the shoes were still falling apart. He had done nothing to stop them, but half expect they would heal themselves. They didn’t. Not directly anyway. The right shoe still had the same tangent of fake leather pulling away his its loosened stitching that started on the first day he wore them. At least the damage wasn’t progressing. The wear points in the mesh however were a different story. They were slowly enlarging themselves as his toes rubbed against them.

    He pulled the strings pushing his flesh and bone together. He winced in pain for a moment before releasing some of the pressure. His foot thanked him as it expanded into the newly available space. With the string still tight in his fingers he crossed the two ends, right over-under left, then looped them back left over-under right pulling two loops to complete the knot. He didn’t want to go, didn’t want to do this but he had promised. He ran his hands down his leg feeling the hair sift through his fingers and tickle his palm. He held his foot for an absent minded moment before letting go.

    He looked at the black box in his hand. It was quiet and lifeless in his hand. He slid the small pink switch on the top until all the color disappeared. Then, in an instant, the whole front on the thin black box lit up as if it was trying to share its excitement for being alive with the world. He grumbled at it for a moment, it was always too happy for such things. The actions he was about to take would lead to the starvation of thousands of innocent lives, but the little black box only smiled as it cheerfully played music.

    He slipped the small mood altering buds into his ears and let the hypnotic sound of the black box soak into his head. For this he both loved and hated the box. He still didn’t want to go. Not for all the pain that he would cause, all the suffering that would take place at his hands, not for any part of the whole experience. But, he promised and so he would. His checked his waist, there was no key. He walked back to the bedroom and retrieved his keys. He pushed his nail into the slit in the key ring separating it enough to push it over the other key ring. He spun the circle until it clicked, signaling it was free. He pushed the key between his skin and his elastic waist band. The key would be safe there.

    The tune in his ears changed from the calm steady beat to one of pulsing action. His heart started pumping in time with it, he had to go. He had put this moment off long enough and the time had come. He left the bedroom then out of the house being sure to lock the door behind him, he wanted no surprises when he got back. The pulsing in his ears was growing stronger and stronger until he finally yielded. His legs started moving in time with the beat.

    Left then right, left then right.

    The black box was doing its job, the job it always did well. That was what he loved about it. The tune changed again, this time to one of steady progression. He felt like he could conquer the world even if at a slow but steady pace. The hills had started and the tune was the perfect encouragement to continue his climb.

    Left then right, left then right.

    The air was colder atop the hill than he thought it would be. There was a wind blowing too. The cool air was filling his lungs and he gasped for breath. His body wasn’t used to this level of abuse. The few token attempts to prepare for this moment had long been forgotten. Blood raced through his veins trying desperately to warm his skin before the cold air whipped away all the heat. The contrast between the hot and cold lit his body on fire and his naked skin was burning. The black box did its job and the tune changed again to a happier one that drowned out the masses of cells crying in agony and pain.

    The race for his health at the expense of his own comfort had begun under the brightly shining stars on that moonless night.