What A Fucking Waste Of Time

I’m glad the week is over. It seemed like it would drag on forever.

First the brake lights on the Mustang. Then the friend I was getting a ride to work from gets pulled over by the Oak Harbor Gestapo for expired tabs… right in the parking lot at work. Co-workers said it was only a matter of time, but I couldn’t help but feel at fault. If he hadn’t come to pick me up, he would have taken a different route to work and not have been hammered. I hate cops.

Then I’ve got this garnishment at work from my previous place of employment. No one served me, no one informed me, no one gave me copies of an answer to the writ. It just started. The copies I did get were sent to the Redmond address of the company I work for, not the Oak Harbor address. Our CFO sent me my copies, and I got them on February 20. Eight days later, the first garnishment starts, eventhough the collection agency says the debt is paid in full. Of course, my father dying March 1 threw a wrench into dealing with it. I got some work to do in regards to this bullshit…

So, today I want to get out in the driveway to figure our where the fuck the problem lies with the brake lights on the Mustang… no such luck. I can’t be more than 10 feet from the toilet. I don’t know if it’s something I ate, stress, nerves, or what. It’s evil, though. It’s almost like my ass knows I can’t go to the store for more shitwipe until I fix the brake lights.

I’ve been downloading mp3s from my youth. Yeah, I know, downloading mp3s is illegal. I have an iTunes account… but what I’ve been looking for isn’t readily available anywhere (or iTunes). Back in the mid 80s, I was into the local music of Philadelphia (where I grew up). Bands like The Hooters, Tommy Conwell and the Young Rumblers, Bricklin, and Separate Checks. All tough to find today. I’ve also been looking for tunes from The Power Station, a short-live band fronted by Robert Palmer… with John and Andy Taylor (from Duran Duran) and Tony Thompson (of Chic). What I have found online put me in the wayback machine for a few days. It reminds me of high school. Sonofabitch! My 20-year high school reunion is this year. Fuck, I’m old!

As I driving into work yesterday morning, by coincidence, one of my co-workers was following me. In the office, he told me I had a brake light out. Great. I can’t afford a ticket.

After work, I wedged my ice scraper between the brake pedal and the bottom of the steering column, and sure enough, the right-side brake light is out. I made sure to hit the back roads and kept a close eye on the rearview mirror as I headed home. I made my way to the auto parts store for a new pair of 1157-A lamps (and a Mountain Dew… damn you Pepsi for those free iTunes).

In the parking lot, I replaced both lamps, and put my ice scraper to use again. Still out? What the fuck? I turned on the headlights to test the tail lights. Both tail lights work. How ’bout the turn signals? Both left and right rear turn signals blink, but the right hazard light is out. So, while rear turn signals and tail lights work on both sides, and the left brake and hazard light works, the right brake and hazard light does not. The stupid headlights don’t work, either. I have a new piece of shit car for Adam Sandler to sing about!

I spent the evening after work looking to see what the problem is, but did not have much luck. It gets too dark around 6 to 6:15, so I have to quit, and my Chilton’s manual is as useful as a limp dick in a whorehouse when it comes to electrical troubles. Now the quest is on for a wiring diagram for a 1968 Mustang. I thought I saw PDF versions online a few years ago… but can’t seem to find them now.