I haven't done that much work on vehicles, it's just that when I do it is usually something big or important.
On my previous truck, a 1994 Chevy S10 2.2L 4cyl 5spd that I had for 15 months, I replaced the clutch. Now, this wasn't the easiest thing in the world to do, but luckily it was rear-wheel drive so the engine and transmission weren't crammed in. I drove the truck to Melrose, WI (about 20 minutes away from West Salem) on a cold, rainy night. My friend followed me in his truck. I normally take a route that has a steep hill with a lot of twists on it. I didn't want to go this way because my clutch was slipping fairly good and I didn't want to loose my momentum. I chose an alternate route that I had taken only once before. It still had a hill, but it was more gradual and the corners where not sharp at all. I kept the engine revving pretty good up the hill. I stayed in 3rd gear and kept it at over 3,000 rpm. When I reached the top, a sudden turn came out of no where. I didn't lift off the gas too much. Since the road was wet, the back end slid out from behind me a little bit. Finally I reach the guys garage.
I drove the front of the truck up on ramps that you usually use for changing oil and put the back end up on jack stands (we only had 2 jack stands). In order to remove the transmission, the drive shaft had to come out first. That was easy. Then a cross member supporting the back end of the transmission had to come out. The nut that held the transmission to the cross member was rusted in place (after 12 years of MN and WI winter roads). I had to take a grinder and grind it off being careful not to grind away the threads on the bolt. Finally I got that done. Next we had to unbolt the tranny from the engine. There were about 10 bolts holding it on. The real hard ones were the ones on top of the tranny because we had a hard time getting to them. We also had to take the shifter off to get it to drop through the hole in the floor. We finally go the tranny out. Getting the clutch out was easy. All we had to do was unbolt the pressure plate (a bunch of really strong springs that keep the clutch engaged) and remove it and the clutch.
The clutch I had bought came with the clutch disc and a new pressure plate. We could see that the old pressure plate had gotten fairly hot because there were blue spots on it. So we bolted up the new pressure plate and clutch. Now we only had to lift the tranny back up, bolt it back in, put the cross member back in, and finally reconnect the drive shaft. All this sounds simple and straight forward, but the entire project took two nights of work (probably 8 to 9 hours maybe).
So after 180,000 miles, I guess I got my money's worth out of the original clutch.
Here's a video that shows how a clutch works and some of the parts I replaced.
Thursday, November 19, 2009
Thursday, November 12, 2009
Working on Vehicles
Everyone hates it when something breaks or wears out on their car. The most common things are brakes and bearings. Well, I've never had to replace brakes because they are worn out, but I did replace them because I could.
This weekend, I replaced the rear axle on my truck. There was nothing wrong with the original one that came from the factory. It only had 109,000 miles and was 11 years old. The reason I replaced it was because it was what is known as an "open differential". What this means is that if one wheel is on ice and the other is on dry pavement, the wheel on the ice will get all the power because it has the least amount of resistance to it. This is the downfall of most differentials. The one I put in the truck came out of a stock 1995 Chevrolet K1500 truck (just so you know, it was the exact same truck as mine, just 3 years older). The difference is that this one is what is called a "locking differential". What this means is that when one wheel spins 100rpm (revolutions per minute) faster than the other, it causes a mechanism inside to engage and lock the two wheels together; giving the wheel with traction power. Had my truck been a 2-wheel-drive, this would have been more important since I wouldn't have had the extra help of 4-wheel-drive to help me. So basically now instead of having 1 wheel spinning in 2wd, I will have 2 spinning. In 4wd, instead of having 1 wheel in front and 1 wheel in back spinning, at least 3 wheels will spin at the same speed giving power to 1 or 2 wheels that actually have traction. What would have happened before the swap was all the power would have been sent to 1 front wheel and 1 back wheel that had no traction. Making me go nowhere.
After unbolting the shocks, leaf springs, brake lines, drive shaft, and disconnecting the parking brake, it was time to put in the "new" axle. It went in just fine. The only problem was that in order to hook the parking brake back up, we had to completely disassemble the drum brakes. [For future reference, drum brakes are a pain in the butt. Stick with disc brakes.] Since we had to completely disassemble them, I decided to replace all the springs (there's like 8 per drum), the wheel cylinders (when you push on the brake peddle, hydraulic fluid is pushed to the wheel cylinders which convert the fluid pressure into physical force that pushes the shoes (what brake pads are called for drum brakes) out and into contact with the drum (instead of a disc)), and the pads even though the old ones looked OK; they just need to be cleaned up. The most difficult part was connecting the parking brake back up again and getting all the springs (they may be small, but they sure are strong) hooked back to where they need to be. There are 2 pins that hold 2 of the springs to keep tension on them. Apparently the kit I bought was for multiple vehicles. It had two different length pins. We realized this quickly after the one spcing didn't come close to fitting right.
So $150 for the axle, $75 in parts, waiting 8 months, and about 10 hours of work later, it is finally in. I was so happy and excited.
I originally intended to do this earlier in the year, but I was too busy between my senior year in high school and work. A buddy and I had planned to do burnouts the last day of school. His car had a posi rear end (basically the same thing, just can't handle as much power as a locking rear end) and I was going to have the locking rear end, but I never swapped it out. So he had both wheels spinning and I was a one-wheel-wonder. Not any more suckers!
Here's a video that better explains what happens in the rear differential.
This weekend, I replaced the rear axle on my truck. There was nothing wrong with the original one that came from the factory. It only had 109,000 miles and was 11 years old. The reason I replaced it was because it was what is known as an "open differential". What this means is that if one wheel is on ice and the other is on dry pavement, the wheel on the ice will get all the power because it has the least amount of resistance to it. This is the downfall of most differentials. The one I put in the truck came out of a stock 1995 Chevrolet K1500 truck (just so you know, it was the exact same truck as mine, just 3 years older). The difference is that this one is what is called a "locking differential". What this means is that when one wheel spins 100rpm (revolutions per minute) faster than the other, it causes a mechanism inside to engage and lock the two wheels together; giving the wheel with traction power. Had my truck been a 2-wheel-drive, this would have been more important since I wouldn't have had the extra help of 4-wheel-drive to help me. So basically now instead of having 1 wheel spinning in 2wd, I will have 2 spinning. In 4wd, instead of having 1 wheel in front and 1 wheel in back spinning, at least 3 wheels will spin at the same speed giving power to 1 or 2 wheels that actually have traction. What would have happened before the swap was all the power would have been sent to 1 front wheel and 1 back wheel that had no traction. Making me go nowhere.
After unbolting the shocks, leaf springs, brake lines, drive shaft, and disconnecting the parking brake, it was time to put in the "new" axle. It went in just fine. The only problem was that in order to hook the parking brake back up, we had to completely disassemble the drum brakes. [For future reference, drum brakes are a pain in the butt. Stick with disc brakes.] Since we had to completely disassemble them, I decided to replace all the springs (there's like 8 per drum), the wheel cylinders (when you push on the brake peddle, hydraulic fluid is pushed to the wheel cylinders which convert the fluid pressure into physical force that pushes the shoes (what brake pads are called for drum brakes) out and into contact with the drum (instead of a disc)), and the pads even though the old ones looked OK; they just need to be cleaned up. The most difficult part was connecting the parking brake back up again and getting all the springs (they may be small, but they sure are strong) hooked back to where they need to be. There are 2 pins that hold 2 of the springs to keep tension on them. Apparently the kit I bought was for multiple vehicles. It had two different length pins. We realized this quickly after the one spcing didn't come close to fitting right.
So $150 for the axle, $75 in parts, waiting 8 months, and about 10 hours of work later, it is finally in. I was so happy and excited.
I originally intended to do this earlier in the year, but I was too busy between my senior year in high school and work. A buddy and I had planned to do burnouts the last day of school. His car had a posi rear end (basically the same thing, just can't handle as much power as a locking rear end) and I was going to have the locking rear end, but I never swapped it out. So he had both wheels spinning and I was a one-wheel-wonder. Not any more suckers!
Here's a video that better explains what happens in the rear differential.
Monday, November 2, 2009
Changing Mind
Don't you just hate people that can't make up their minds on whether or not to do something or what they are going to do or what to buy? Well, sometimes that's the way my dad is.
There's the time that I was about to buy my first truck that would be registered in my name. I found one in Rochester on a Sunday. I called the dealer on Monday and asked about the truck. It was a few hundred bucks more than what I was intending to spend, but for the extra money, it had what I wanted (the only thing that was bad about the truck is that the sides of the bed were scratched up from lifting things over the sides). I talked with my dad on the phone and explained to him the details about the truck. He told me to call the dealer back and make an offer and that getting the money wouldn't be a problem. So the next day, Tuesday, I called back the dealer and made an offer. He didn't like it and countered it (split the difference). I told my dad. For some ungodly reason, my dad had the completely opposite opinion he had the day before. He said I was rushing into it and that I needed to think about it more. So, he basically broke my heart, slammed on the brakes, and told me to call back the dealer and stop the whole deal. I WANTED TO KILL HIM! It was the most agonizing thing I have ever gone through. I had money saved up, was paying for EVERYTHING myself, and new what I was getting into. I had been looking for a truck for 8 months by this time. I even made a binder of all the trucks I had found. Almost all were too much, too far away, or had too high of miles. Well, finally 2 months later (10 months of looking), I found the perfect truck. Ironically, it was in Rochester too. Luckily by now my dad knew I was serious and didn't try too hard to stop me. I think the reason he went with it was because it only had 98,000 miles on it (which was really, really low considering it was 10 years old and in my price range; and no, there wasn't anything majorly wrong with it). The buying process of this truck took 3 hours of phone calls and then waiting 5 days until the weekend to go test drive it. I was just in time. As I was finishing the deal, another guy called the seller. God was I happy. (Just so you know, this is the truck that is pictured in my first posting)
Sorry, but you need a little more background on this one. When my mom bought me my first truck [in her name] (only because I was living with her, needed money for what I wanted because she didn't have extra money, and 3 weeks after buying the truck, I got a job), I didn't tell my dad that I was even looking. I didn't want him to say "why do you need a truck?" or some stupid question like that and try to stop me. So, I drove the truck home for 3.5 hours with not cruise, CD player, or A/C (which I didn't care about). I think it was 2 or 3 days later that I showed up to my dad's house after work (it was dark out) and told him I needed to show him something. He came out and saw the truck. He asked me why I didn't tell him before hand. I said "because I didn't know what you'd say and I didn't want you to say no." (When my dad bought a new van, he spent 3 or 4 months comparing options, prices, and deals. He believes in thoroughly researching, as do I, but when I make up my mind on something, I mean it.)
So basically I did a big thing without telling him. I also never told him about building my first computer until I got parts for Christmas, or about going to West Virginia to get a motorcycle with my mom's boy fried, or about getting my motorcycle license (the only reason I told him before actually getting it was because my safety course fell on a weekend that I was with him), or about my first motorcycle. So after all this, I thought it was best to tell him that I wanted a nicer truck.
There's the time that I was about to buy my first truck that would be registered in my name. I found one in Rochester on a Sunday. I called the dealer on Monday and asked about the truck. It was a few hundred bucks more than what I was intending to spend, but for the extra money, it had what I wanted (the only thing that was bad about the truck is that the sides of the bed were scratched up from lifting things over the sides). I talked with my dad on the phone and explained to him the details about the truck. He told me to call the dealer back and make an offer and that getting the money wouldn't be a problem. So the next day, Tuesday, I called back the dealer and made an offer. He didn't like it and countered it (split the difference). I told my dad. For some ungodly reason, my dad had the completely opposite opinion he had the day before. He said I was rushing into it and that I needed to think about it more. So, he basically broke my heart, slammed on the brakes, and told me to call back the dealer and stop the whole deal. I WANTED TO KILL HIM! It was the most agonizing thing I have ever gone through. I had money saved up, was paying for EVERYTHING myself, and new what I was getting into. I had been looking for a truck for 8 months by this time. I even made a binder of all the trucks I had found. Almost all were too much, too far away, or had too high of miles. Well, finally 2 months later (10 months of looking), I found the perfect truck. Ironically, it was in Rochester too. Luckily by now my dad knew I was serious and didn't try too hard to stop me. I think the reason he went with it was because it only had 98,000 miles on it (which was really, really low considering it was 10 years old and in my price range; and no, there wasn't anything majorly wrong with it). The buying process of this truck took 3 hours of phone calls and then waiting 5 days until the weekend to go test drive it. I was just in time. As I was finishing the deal, another guy called the seller. God was I happy. (Just so you know, this is the truck that is pictured in my first posting)
Sorry, but you need a little more background on this one. When my mom bought me my first truck [in her name] (only because I was living with her, needed money for what I wanted because she didn't have extra money, and 3 weeks after buying the truck, I got a job), I didn't tell my dad that I was even looking. I didn't want him to say "why do you need a truck?" or some stupid question like that and try to stop me. So, I drove the truck home for 3.5 hours with not cruise, CD player, or A/C (which I didn't care about). I think it was 2 or 3 days later that I showed up to my dad's house after work (it was dark out) and told him I needed to show him something. He came out and saw the truck. He asked me why I didn't tell him before hand. I said "because I didn't know what you'd say and I didn't want you to say no." (When my dad bought a new van, he spent 3 or 4 months comparing options, prices, and deals. He believes in thoroughly researching, as do I, but when I make up my mind on something, I mean it.)
So basically I did a big thing without telling him. I also never told him about building my first computer until I got parts for Christmas, or about going to West Virginia to get a motorcycle with my mom's boy fried, or about getting my motorcycle license (the only reason I told him before actually getting it was because my safety course fell on a weekend that I was with him), or about my first motorcycle. So after all this, I thought it was best to tell him that I wanted a nicer truck.
Thursday, October 29, 2009
Late
Have you ever known someone who is always late no matter what the occasion or time of day? Well, unfortunately, I do. And let me tell you, it is really, really annoying! Sometimes I can't stand it. They'll tell someone to meet them somewhere at, let say, 5:00 when the person won't show up until 5:15 or maybe even 5:30.
Now, in my book, that is a little disrespectful. When someone tells you or agrees to meet you somewhere at a specified time, BE THERE! Sometimes, when the time has to do with something extremely important, I almost lie about the time and tell the person 15 to 20 minutes earlier than they need to meet me. I hate relying on someone else's timing to make an event work out.
For instance, I went on a trip to Disney World in high school for band. I was in a group with 3 other guys. I said I was going to check out a booth near by while they were on a ride and that I would meet them by a prominent land mark. Well, they felt it was unnecessary to wait any longer for me and left. I soon began to panic. I knew exactly how to get out of the park and where the bus was. What I didn't want to do was leave the other 3 guys alone and loose them. Well, they didn't see it that way. After waiting for 15 minutes longer than I thought it would take them to finish the ride, I ran out of the park and towards the bus. When I got there, my teacher was standing outside the bus. All she said to me was get on. When I stepped on, everyone gave me crap for being late. Then, I was the 3 guys that left me. Needless to say, I was royally pissed at them by this time. When we got to the next park, our teacher asked what happened. One of the 3 guys explained their side and then I explained my side. After this, I didn't trust anyone the least bit.
Then there is someone I know that no matter what, he is always late. Whether it is 5 minutes or 20 minutes, it doesn't matter. After a while, it gets really annoying. At least when it is something important, he is close to being on time. You would think that after a while I would get use to it and maybe tell him to arrive earlier than needed, but no. I still don't. Maybe I should.
Like I said before, these blogs are a way for me to "release my anger" without killing or harming someone. And unfortunately this posting was about a negative aspect in my life and usually the negative things stick with you more than the good things. Thanks for bearing with me.
Now, in my book, that is a little disrespectful. When someone tells you or agrees to meet you somewhere at a specified time, BE THERE! Sometimes, when the time has to do with something extremely important, I almost lie about the time and tell the person 15 to 20 minutes earlier than they need to meet me. I hate relying on someone else's timing to make an event work out.
For instance, I went on a trip to Disney World in high school for band. I was in a group with 3 other guys. I said I was going to check out a booth near by while they were on a ride and that I would meet them by a prominent land mark. Well, they felt it was unnecessary to wait any longer for me and left. I soon began to panic. I knew exactly how to get out of the park and where the bus was. What I didn't want to do was leave the other 3 guys alone and loose them. Well, they didn't see it that way. After waiting for 15 minutes longer than I thought it would take them to finish the ride, I ran out of the park and towards the bus. When I got there, my teacher was standing outside the bus. All she said to me was get on. When I stepped on, everyone gave me crap for being late. Then, I was the 3 guys that left me. Needless to say, I was royally pissed at them by this time. When we got to the next park, our teacher asked what happened. One of the 3 guys explained their side and then I explained my side. After this, I didn't trust anyone the least bit.
Then there is someone I know that no matter what, he is always late. Whether it is 5 minutes or 20 minutes, it doesn't matter. After a while, it gets really annoying. At least when it is something important, he is close to being on time. You would think that after a while I would get use to it and maybe tell him to arrive earlier than needed, but no. I still don't. Maybe I should.
Like I said before, these blogs are a way for me to "release my anger" without killing or harming someone. And unfortunately this posting was about a negative aspect in my life and usually the negative things stick with you more than the good things. Thanks for bearing with me.
Friday, October 23, 2009
Windows 7
As most of you know, the latest version of Microsoft Windows, Windows 7, came out on Thursday, October 22. To those with Windows Vista, it is a welcome relief. When Vista first came out, everyone thought it was so great but then, compatibility issues came up and before you knew it Microsoft had come out with Service Pack 1 in less than 6 months of release. From the start, people liked how Vista looked, however, it was power and resources hungry. The requirements meant that you basically had to buy a new PC with Vista on it in order for it to be compatible. Then there were all those pesky security warning messages that popped up whenever you tried to launch an installation. Let's not forget that Microsoft had to be greedy and come out with 4 versions!
Now, Microsoft appears to be getting away from Vista as fast as they can. Microsoft wants to pretend that Vista never happened. Basically, Microsoft took the few good parts of Vista and got rid of the rest. Windows 7 supposedly boots up faster, is much more capable, doesn't have so many security warnings, and supports peripherals much better.
If you go to Microsoft.com, you are assaulted with Windows 7 and how amazing it is. In one of my classes, we watched a video from Microsoft's launch party they had. I have to admit, it was pretty cool. If I find that video, I'll try to post it on here. They said that if your laptop is on a workgroup at home, you'll use your file sharing and printer settings at home, and if you are on a domain at work, you won't share files as freely and use printers at work. Finally they are trying to make things easier. Also, they showed controlling 7 TVs, a digital photo frame, a home theater system, and an X-Box with one laptop. Needless to say this part became an advertisement for companies that were making products to be compatible with Windows 7. Honestly, you really need to check it out.
If you want Windows 7, you can go to win741.com and buy the Home Premium (as a download) for $29.99 plus $13 for a DVD copy to be mailed to you if you are a student. Click on the "Buy" box and then the "BUY NOW $29.99" white logo. You'll be asked to enter in you university/college email. You will receive an email. Follow the link they send you. Underneath the picture of the Windows 7 box, there is a yellow area that says you can also get Windows 7 Professional for the same $29.99 plus $13. No matter what you think you need, get the Professional version. There is not that big of a difference, but for the same price, what the heck.
I'll be looking forward to using Windows 7. Whenever I find the video I mentioned earlier, I'll try to post a link to it.
Thursday, October 15, 2009
Age & Memories
Today is my dog's (her name is Kobi) 9th birthday.
I can still remember going to get her. It was February 14, Valentine's Day. My mom, brother, and I went to a man's house in I think Onalaska/Holmen area. My mom had found this guy giving away puppies through someone at work or something; I have no idea. We got there and there were two dogs left. A chocolate lab and a black lab. He said that the town was getting after him since he already had 3 other dogs. We got there and the little puppies were out playing in the front yard in the snow. Well, to make a somewhat unclear story short, we ended up taking the black lab mixed with a Brittney Spaniel.
I can still remember the ride home.
My brother and I sat in the back seat of my mom's car and the puppy sat on the floor between us on the hump in the middle of the floor. I don't think she knew what was going on. We had to go to PetCo to get a small kennel for in the house because this was our first dog. We picked up a kennel and headed home. We setup the kennel and played with Kobi for a little bit. After a little while we put her in the kennel. At this point, she could fit across the kennel (about 2 feet). She laid there on her side, paws stretched out and quietly crying to herself. She was scared half to death. She had no idea what to do. "Where's mommy?" she thought. "Where am I?"
We ended up having to almost drag her out of the kennel to take her outside for the night. The next morning, she was yipping to get out. We took her outside and it seemed like she didn't know what to do. A big, old yellow lab and its owner were walking by and came up our driveway. The yellow lab "relieved" itself on the snow bank. Kobi proceeded to sniff the new yellow spot of snow. The owner said maybe it would give Kobi the idea of "relieving" herself.
Spring came along and Kobi got spayed. I remember this quite a bit because she had to wear a plastic cone on her head so she didn't lick or chew the stitches out. She hated it. One morning, I came down stairs and she had pulled off the cone, chewed on it, sat on it, and "relieved" herself on it. She most definitely never wanted to wear it again.
When we first took her to the vet, my mom asked them how long before she "settled" down. The vet nonchalantly stated "I'd give her 7 years." This was mostly due to the fact that she was part Brittney Spaniel which are apparently very energetic dogs. Well, that came true. She never did start to even show signs of slowing until after she was 7.
She use to always love to go to gramma's house. She had a big, fenced-in back yard where Kobi could run free. Whenever you get out of the car, she always climbs into the driver's seat. She'll either lay down or sit there staring out the window until you come back.
She got away from my dad a few times. She ran around the house a few times and one time she ran a block down the street. My dad jumped in the van, drove down the street with the side sliding door open, stopped, and Kobi jumped in. My dad never did have much luck with her. My dad was originally against having a dog, but I think she grew on her. After 2 or 3 years, my dad started taking her with him when he ran errands.
She always could pull my mom wherever she wanted to go. My mom never could hold her back. She has fallen on ice and in the snow a couple of times with her. She wasn't too happy about that.
When I got my first vehicle, I wanted a truck. I wanted a manual transmission (that's were you push in a clutch peddle with your left foot and shift with you right hand; for those that don't know), which was easiest to find in a compact truck and fairly cheap, and I wanted to be able to take Kobi with me. The only problem was that Kobi liked to stand on the wheel wells so if I turned to fast, she might have been thrown out of the truck.
Looking back on 9 years, I have a lot of memories with her. My gramma has always said "you'd miss her if she were gone tomorrow." I never thought that would be so true. A dog is more than an animal. A dog is a companion. A dog is there for you no matter how bad a day you had and they always listen to your whatever you have to say.
I have more memories than can ever be written down. I just hope that when I'm 80 (hopefully), I can remember my first dog. Kobi.
I can still remember going to get her. It was February 14, Valentine's Day. My mom, brother, and I went to a man's house in I think Onalaska/Holmen area. My mom had found this guy giving away puppies through someone at work or something; I have no idea. We got there and there were two dogs left. A chocolate lab and a black lab. He said that the town was getting after him since he already had 3 other dogs. We got there and the little puppies were out playing in the front yard in the snow. Well, to make a somewhat unclear story short, we ended up taking the black lab mixed with a Brittney Spaniel.
I can still remember the ride home.
My brother and I sat in the back seat of my mom's car and the puppy sat on the floor between us on the hump in the middle of the floor. I don't think she knew what was going on. We had to go to PetCo to get a small kennel for in the house because this was our first dog. We picked up a kennel and headed home. We setup the kennel and played with Kobi for a little bit. After a little while we put her in the kennel. At this point, she could fit across the kennel (about 2 feet). She laid there on her side, paws stretched out and quietly crying to herself. She was scared half to death. She had no idea what to do. "Where's mommy?" she thought. "Where am I?"
We ended up having to almost drag her out of the kennel to take her outside for the night. The next morning, she was yipping to get out. We took her outside and it seemed like she didn't know what to do. A big, old yellow lab and its owner were walking by and came up our driveway. The yellow lab "relieved" itself on the snow bank. Kobi proceeded to sniff the new yellow spot of snow. The owner said maybe it would give Kobi the idea of "relieving" herself.
Spring came along and Kobi got spayed. I remember this quite a bit because she had to wear a plastic cone on her head so she didn't lick or chew the stitches out. She hated it. One morning, I came down stairs and she had pulled off the cone, chewed on it, sat on it, and "relieved" herself on it. She most definitely never wanted to wear it again.
.JPG) |
 |
When we first took her to the vet, my mom asked them how long before she "settled" down. The vet nonchalantly stated "I'd give her 7 years." This was mostly due to the fact that she was part Brittney Spaniel which are apparently very energetic dogs. Well, that came true. She never did start to even show signs of slowing until after she was 7.
She use to always love to go to gramma's house. She had a big, fenced-in back yard where Kobi could run free. Whenever you get out of the car, she always climbs into the driver's seat. She'll either lay down or sit there staring out the window until you come back.
She got away from my dad a few times. She ran around the house a few times and one time she ran a block down the street. My dad jumped in the van, drove down the street with the side sliding door open, stopped, and Kobi jumped in. My dad never did have much luck with her. My dad was originally against having a dog, but I think she grew on her. After 2 or 3 years, my dad started taking her with him when he ran errands.
She always could pull my mom wherever she wanted to go. My mom never could hold her back. She has fallen on ice and in the snow a couple of times with her. She wasn't too happy about that.
When I got my first vehicle, I wanted a truck. I wanted a manual transmission (that's were you push in a clutch peddle with your left foot and shift with you right hand; for those that don't know), which was easiest to find in a compact truck and fairly cheap, and I wanted to be able to take Kobi with me. The only problem was that Kobi liked to stand on the wheel wells so if I turned to fast, she might have been thrown out of the truck.
Looking back on 9 years, I have a lot of memories with her. My gramma has always said "you'd miss her if she were gone tomorrow." I never thought that would be so true. A dog is more than an animal. A dog is a companion. A dog is there for you no matter how bad a day you had and they always listen to your whatever you have to say.
I have more memories than can ever be written down. I just hope that when I'm 80 (hopefully), I can remember my first dog. Kobi.
Thursday, October 8, 2009
Co-Workers
Thanks to all who have been reading my blogs. At least some people actually see this stuff. However, I don't think I will be able to always keep this on a good note or have deep meaning behind the things I write. So don't be surprised when things go from extremely good and nice to angry and cruel (or something along those lines).
I've been at the same work place for two years now (I work in a kitchen, just so you know). I know that that is not that long, but it is when it is your first job and have been there since junior year of high school (thinking of it that way makes it sound longer). I was never really interested in working in a kitchen to become a cook, but it was a job, payed the bills, and worked out great for being in school. I originally started as a dish washer with four cooks and the head chef. I stayed a dish washer for about a year and then became the salad/cold-side cook. Boy am I glad I switched. Now I make things dirty and don't have to clean them. Granted the work load of the dish washer has become much lighter that when I first started, but I still don't miss it one bit.
From the time I started until now, I've seen three of the original cooks, one dish washer, and the head chef leave. Then we went through four dish washers and are on the fifth (one didn't even last a week; never showed up after his first day), have replaced one cook twice and are on the third, one cook was replaced and the same guy has been there for about a year and nine months. Where I am now (salad/cold-side), the first replacement left to go to school (on good terms) and the second guy got fired because he ticked off the restaurant manager and just about everyone else. I started on the cold-side working with the second guy, but he was getting in my way and ticked me off so I was more than glad to see him go (oddly though he was going to WWTC to become a chef) so basically I do the work that two people once did more efficiently, better, and cheaper.
One of the guys that quit a couple of months after I started ended up coming back. He's one guy that I'm glad that he came back. When I started as a dish washer, he was the salad/cold-side cook and he was pretty good at it. So whenever he helps me out for a big party or whatever is going on, we get stuff done really freakin' fast. We also give each other a hard time basically all the time too. Also, the head chef came back. I'm really glad about that too because he is a really nice guy and a really good friend.
The real reason for this posting is to talk about the current dish washer. Recently he got a job at another restaurant working in the morning/early afternoon (he's not in school and basically wanted to make more money). The head chef said it was alright as long as it didn't affect his schedule here (where I work). Well, the fact of having two jobs became relevant last Friday. Friday is our busiest day by far and nobody, I mean nobody hardly ever gets off.
It started out really good for me. I was all ready and had backups of what might run out of. I knew it was too good to be true. The head chef told me he got a text message form the dish washer saying someone called in sick at his other job and that he might have to cover for them. The head chef responded saying that he didn't care what was going on and that he was scheduled to work with us way before this ever came up and told him he better get to work no later than 6pm (we start serving dinner at 5:30). The dish washer never responded and never showed up. I was pissed off majorly. Not only did I have to work my station, but I also had to wash dishes whenever I was free (which that Friday happened to be our busiest one in a long time so I was never free).
The dish washer never talked to the head chef all weekend. He showed up on Tuesday for his normal work schedule. The head chef chewed him out. He was told to apologize to everyone in the kitchen (four cooks including myself). He apologized to two (not me and another guy). The head chef asked me Thursday if he apologized to me and I said no. I said I would have told him that his apology was unaccepted and to get the heck away from me (in other words that are not appropriate for blogging). The head chef figured I would have said that and actually wanted me to tell him that (show him how angry everyone was at him).
That is one thing that ticks me off more than anything: people not showing up for what they were scheduled or said they would do. When people don't show up, it makes life ten times worse for everyone else.
Needless to say, the head chef has already hired someone new (problems with the dish washer have been on going for about a year and a half now). I've been wanting him gone since he said he was "taking the winter off to do what he wanted" (we are really slow December thru March so I was going to get all the hours possible and that I wanted anyway; the original plan was to never let him come back in April but I guess he basically came crawling back saying he couldn't find another job). Now I can't wait until he is gone.
(Sorry, kind of my more serious / angry side, but oh well.)
I've been at the same work place for two years now (I work in a kitchen, just so you know). I know that that is not that long, but it is when it is your first job and have been there since junior year of high school (thinking of it that way makes it sound longer). I was never really interested in working in a kitchen to become a cook, but it was a job, payed the bills, and worked out great for being in school. I originally started as a dish washer with four cooks and the head chef. I stayed a dish washer for about a year and then became the salad/cold-side cook. Boy am I glad I switched. Now I make things dirty and don't have to clean them. Granted the work load of the dish washer has become much lighter that when I first started, but I still don't miss it one bit.
From the time I started until now, I've seen three of the original cooks, one dish washer, and the head chef leave. Then we went through four dish washers and are on the fifth (one didn't even last a week; never showed up after his first day), have replaced one cook twice and are on the third, one cook was replaced and the same guy has been there for about a year and nine months. Where I am now (salad/cold-side), the first replacement left to go to school (on good terms) and the second guy got fired because he ticked off the restaurant manager and just about everyone else. I started on the cold-side working with the second guy, but he was getting in my way and ticked me off so I was more than glad to see him go (oddly though he was going to WWTC to become a chef) so basically I do the work that two people once did more efficiently, better, and cheaper.
One of the guys that quit a couple of months after I started ended up coming back. He's one guy that I'm glad that he came back. When I started as a dish washer, he was the salad/cold-side cook and he was pretty good at it. So whenever he helps me out for a big party or whatever is going on, we get stuff done really freakin' fast. We also give each other a hard time basically all the time too. Also, the head chef came back. I'm really glad about that too because he is a really nice guy and a really good friend.
The real reason for this posting is to talk about the current dish washer. Recently he got a job at another restaurant working in the morning/early afternoon (he's not in school and basically wanted to make more money). The head chef said it was alright as long as it didn't affect his schedule here (where I work). Well, the fact of having two jobs became relevant last Friday. Friday is our busiest day by far and nobody, I mean nobody hardly ever gets off.
It started out really good for me. I was all ready and had backups of what might run out of. I knew it was too good to be true. The head chef told me he got a text message form the dish washer saying someone called in sick at his other job and that he might have to cover for them. The head chef responded saying that he didn't care what was going on and that he was scheduled to work with us way before this ever came up and told him he better get to work no later than 6pm (we start serving dinner at 5:30). The dish washer never responded and never showed up. I was pissed off majorly. Not only did I have to work my station, but I also had to wash dishes whenever I was free (which that Friday happened to be our busiest one in a long time so I was never free).
The dish washer never talked to the head chef all weekend. He showed up on Tuesday for his normal work schedule. The head chef chewed him out. He was told to apologize to everyone in the kitchen (four cooks including myself). He apologized to two (not me and another guy). The head chef asked me Thursday if he apologized to me and I said no. I said I would have told him that his apology was unaccepted and to get the heck away from me (in other words that are not appropriate for blogging). The head chef figured I would have said that and actually wanted me to tell him that (show him how angry everyone was at him).
That is one thing that ticks me off more than anything: people not showing up for what they were scheduled or said they would do. When people don't show up, it makes life ten times worse for everyone else.
Needless to say, the head chef has already hired someone new (problems with the dish washer have been on going for about a year and a half now). I've been wanting him gone since he said he was "taking the winter off to do what he wanted" (we are really slow December thru March so I was going to get all the hours possible and that I wanted anyway; the original plan was to never let him come back in April but I guess he basically came crawling back saying he couldn't find another job). Now I can't wait until he is gone.
(Sorry, kind of my more serious / angry side, but oh well.)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
