A couple of weeks ago I received a recall notice in the mail. It was nothing major, just a simple repair to my Stihl weed trimmer. It seems as though the ethanol blended gasoline that is sold in many of the stations today, is causing some issues with the gas tanks. Again, nothing to worry about......unless the gasoline leaking from the faulty gas cap ignites when it hits the hot exhaust of the machine cradled in my hands!
I've been mightily pleased with Stihl power equipment for a long time; chain saws, weed trimmers, you name it this company puts out a fine product. The first trimmer I bought lasted nearly twenty years, then I gave it to my son who continued to use it. Now that's a testament to quality, because I used the heck out of that thing. So, I purchased another one....the current model which has now been recalled. I've had this one seven years, and have abused it for that same amount of time. I just never expected anything to go wrong with it.
Regardless, I threw it in the back of the truck this morning, and made the short trip to town to get it fixed at one of my favorite Mom and Pop shops. You know the ones, where Dad greets you with a smile when you walk in the door, and while he may not remember your name, he can remember the model of the trimmer you bought seven years ago. Then, while he visits with you, his son grabs the trimmer from your hands to fix it, and Mom takes care of the paperwork.....I love those types of shops.
These are the places the big box stores just can't begin to match when it comes to customer service, and the loyal customers who frequent these small shops know it. How much longer will they be able to last....who knows? When the old man retires, if ever, will his son take over, or will it just fade away like so many others have done? I hope not, and I intend to do everything I can to help them stick around.
I can buy Stihl equipment in a lot of different stores, but I elect to frequent the places that are locally owned and where the customers are treated like they're really appreciated. Like today. I was there just long enough to have a pleasant conversation with the owner and his wife before I was handed my trimmer, which had been fixed while we talked. My kind of place....and I'll go back as soon as I need a replacement. Heck, it could be another twenty years before this one wears out, and I'm counting on the shop to be there, but what do I know?
Sunday, June 26, 2011
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
That's just a bunch of bull....
Well, I've got this young bull currently roaming the pasture, doing his darn best to spread "joy" to my small herd of cows. He thinks he's quite the man, but this is his first job and like most trainees, he still has a few things to learn about the trade. He has all the makings of being a top-notch performer, great pedigree, great physique, and a nice calm demeanor. But, alas, he has a few things left to learn.
It's been about a month since 007 (yes, that's his ear tag number) arrived on the scene. Since that time he's had it pretty easy....no competition, willing partners, and someone catering to his every need. He's scheduled to be "on the job" for about seventy-five days before he makes his exit, and of course, we're hopeful that he will leave behind cows that will give birth to great calves next spring.
All that being said, I fear that he's recently had his ego severely bruised, if not completely destroyed. I can only hope that he's able to recover.
Last weekend, I was rotating the cows from the south pasture where I have an abundance of cool weather grasses, to the north pasture which is primarily native grass. It's not much of a chore, just drive the Ranger to the vicinity of the gate, and they all come running. Pavlov's Theory is alive and well....see or hear the red Ranger.... run to see the nice man who drives it.....get rewarded with feed. It works like a charm and they follow it wherever I want them to go. Part of the chore is to make sure all cows, calves, and 007 make the trek before the gate swings shut. Where's 007? Nowhere to be found....not a good sign.
My neighbor has a cows in an adjoining pasture and I figured it to be a pretty good bet that one of those wanton ladies had lead poor 007 astray. It happens, and when I found the fence compromised by a fallen limb, I was 99% sure where he was. First, fix the fence then go round him up.
The first thing I noticed as I surveyed the pasture was a really good looking bull standing guard over "his" cows. As I got closer it was apparent that it was not 007. This guy was much bigger....a massive hulk of a bull....with an attitude! When he saw me approaching he immediately positioned himself between me and the cows and dropped his head......I retreated....no sense in seeing who's boss.
A few minutes later I found 007......standing all alone under a scraggly oak tree....if he was a dog his tail would have been tucked between his legs, but bulls apparently don't use that maneuver. We opened the gate, gave him a little encouragement, and he happily retreated to his home turf.
I'm not sure this story has a moral other than, as in the immortal words of Jim Croce, "Leroy learned a lesson 'bout a messin' with the wife of a jealous man"....Definitely a subject to which I can answer, what do I know?
It's been about a month since 007 (yes, that's his ear tag number) arrived on the scene. Since that time he's had it pretty easy....no competition, willing partners, and someone catering to his every need. He's scheduled to be "on the job" for about seventy-five days before he makes his exit, and of course, we're hopeful that he will leave behind cows that will give birth to great calves next spring.
All that being said, I fear that he's recently had his ego severely bruised, if not completely destroyed. I can only hope that he's able to recover.
Last weekend, I was rotating the cows from the south pasture where I have an abundance of cool weather grasses, to the north pasture which is primarily native grass. It's not much of a chore, just drive the Ranger to the vicinity of the gate, and they all come running. Pavlov's Theory is alive and well....see or hear the red Ranger.... run to see the nice man who drives it.....get rewarded with feed. It works like a charm and they follow it wherever I want them to go. Part of the chore is to make sure all cows, calves, and 007 make the trek before the gate swings shut. Where's 007? Nowhere to be found....not a good sign.
My neighbor has a cows in an adjoining pasture and I figured it to be a pretty good bet that one of those wanton ladies had lead poor 007 astray. It happens, and when I found the fence compromised by a fallen limb, I was 99% sure where he was. First, fix the fence then go round him up.
The first thing I noticed as I surveyed the pasture was a really good looking bull standing guard over "his" cows. As I got closer it was apparent that it was not 007. This guy was much bigger....a massive hulk of a bull....with an attitude! When he saw me approaching he immediately positioned himself between me and the cows and dropped his head......I retreated....no sense in seeing who's boss.
A few minutes later I found 007......standing all alone under a scraggly oak tree....if he was a dog his tail would have been tucked between his legs, but bulls apparently don't use that maneuver. We opened the gate, gave him a little encouragement, and he happily retreated to his home turf.
I'm not sure this story has a moral other than, as in the immortal words of Jim Croce, "Leroy learned a lesson 'bout a messin' with the wife of a jealous man"....Definitely a subject to which I can answer, what do I know?
Sunday, June 12, 2011
Yogi says, "Baseball is 90% mental, and the other half is physical"....
It's a lazy Sunday afternoon here at the ranch. Last night we had a nice little thunderstorm which brought some much needed rain, and today the sky has been filled with ominous gray clouds that have given me all the encouragement I need to stay inside and watch a little college baseball on television. I love baseball, and I suppose that maybe I look for "opportunities" like today.
This year the games have been interrupted periodically with some of the same storms that brought last night's rain to us. Rain delays are a part of baseball, and if you've ever been involved with the game, you've lived through the experience of not only the delays, but playing through the occasional shower at the ballpark.
I coached youth baseball for many years and loved every minute.....even those times when the rain and cold made for miserable playing conditions. Those were "teachable moments" as I used to call them. The times that helped mold the minds of young athletes, and to teach them that playing through adversity was just a part of being a complete player.
It was a rare Saturday morning practice for the eleven year old's who were trying their best to master the art of throwing, catching, and hitting. My role was to control the chaos while teaching the fundamentals to a rowdy group of boys with a very limited attention span. On the field next to ours a rival team was raucously doing the same thing. They were a good team, with a big kid who was probably the best pitcher in the league. The youngsters on my team were somewhat in awe of his fast ball......
He was a good kid, but lacked discipline, and the least little distraction would often take him out of his game. Still, I would have loved to have him pitching for us.
About halfway through the practice a light rain started to fall, and everyone scurried for the protection of the dugouts. Our rivals started packing up their equipment and were headed for home. My kids expected us to follow suit.....we didn't! They ended up having the time of their lives, learning to throw a wet baseball, slipping and sliding in the wet grass and mud, and most of all......making fun of those "weenies" who packed it in with the first sprinkle.
Fast forward to the league tournament held at the end of every year. We had a good team, but not the best team. That honor would belong to our rivals who were now sitting in the opposing dugout for this semi-final game. The first few innings were uneventful, and to tell you the truth I can't even remember which team was leading when we felt the first few drops of rain. I do remember that we were at bat, and I was coaching third base when I noticed the wind shift; Then, those little puffs of dust that you see when a big fat drop of rain hits the dusty field.....unbelievable.
The rest is history. All it took was a few drops of rain, and our kids knew they had the game won. I glanced over at the dugout, and it was pandemonium. Kids were jumping up and down, the rain drops streaking their dusty faces, and smiles beaming everywhere. What fun! Of course there were more than a few shouts of derision aimed across the field at our opponents, and suddenly the best pitcher in the league couldn't find the strike zone.
We won that game, and I will never, ever forget that providential moment when the sky opened up and confirmed to a group of eleven year old boys that Yogi was right when he said "It's like deja vu all over again". I love baseball and I love kids who love baseball.....and yes, this is what I do know.
This year the games have been interrupted periodically with some of the same storms that brought last night's rain to us. Rain delays are a part of baseball, and if you've ever been involved with the game, you've lived through the experience of not only the delays, but playing through the occasional shower at the ballpark.
I coached youth baseball for many years and loved every minute.....even those times when the rain and cold made for miserable playing conditions. Those were "teachable moments" as I used to call them. The times that helped mold the minds of young athletes, and to teach them that playing through adversity was just a part of being a complete player.
It was a rare Saturday morning practice for the eleven year old's who were trying their best to master the art of throwing, catching, and hitting. My role was to control the chaos while teaching the fundamentals to a rowdy group of boys with a very limited attention span. On the field next to ours a rival team was raucously doing the same thing. They were a good team, with a big kid who was probably the best pitcher in the league. The youngsters on my team were somewhat in awe of his fast ball......
He was a good kid, but lacked discipline, and the least little distraction would often take him out of his game. Still, I would have loved to have him pitching for us.
About halfway through the practice a light rain started to fall, and everyone scurried for the protection of the dugouts. Our rivals started packing up their equipment and were headed for home. My kids expected us to follow suit.....we didn't! They ended up having the time of their lives, learning to throw a wet baseball, slipping and sliding in the wet grass and mud, and most of all......making fun of those "weenies" who packed it in with the first sprinkle.
Fast forward to the league tournament held at the end of every year. We had a good team, but not the best team. That honor would belong to our rivals who were now sitting in the opposing dugout for this semi-final game. The first few innings were uneventful, and to tell you the truth I can't even remember which team was leading when we felt the first few drops of rain. I do remember that we were at bat, and I was coaching third base when I noticed the wind shift; Then, those little puffs of dust that you see when a big fat drop of rain hits the dusty field.....unbelievable.
The rest is history. All it took was a few drops of rain, and our kids knew they had the game won. I glanced over at the dugout, and it was pandemonium. Kids were jumping up and down, the rain drops streaking their dusty faces, and smiles beaming everywhere. What fun! Of course there were more than a few shouts of derision aimed across the field at our opponents, and suddenly the best pitcher in the league couldn't find the strike zone.
We won that game, and I will never, ever forget that providential moment when the sky opened up and confirmed to a group of eleven year old boys that Yogi was right when he said "It's like deja vu all over again". I love baseball and I love kids who love baseball.....and yes, this is what I do know.
Saturday, June 11, 2011
It was a simple plan....
A very long time ago, a newly married couple ventured from the relative safe haven of their small hometown to see if they could make a life for themselves in the big city. Married just five months, there were many who said the two of them were foolish to embark on such an adventure. After all, there were no jobs awaiting them, nor had they prepared themselves with a tidy nest egg if things didn't go as planned. But, the plan was a simple one, move to the city, get jobs, and go to college.
So, on a cold January day all of their worldly possessions were loaded into a 12X60' mobile home, purchased with a loan from the friendly hometown banker, and the whole kit and caboodle was moved 70 miles south to start their new life. At least they would have a cheap place to live.....That is, if they found jobs that paid enough to make the $72 trailer payment, plus $40 for the space to park it. No problem, for like many young couples of the time, they simply had faith in each other and their ability to make it work.
Within a few weeks they were gainfully employed, one working to earn tuition money for school, and the other working to pay the living expenses. The jobs weren't glamorous, nor were they well paying, but they were a means to an end. Was it easy? No, but it was the first step toward becoming a self-sufficient family, and learning to work as a team to attain a common goal.
A few short years later it was graduation and time to start a career. Once again it was a team effort, and ultimately it was a connection made by one spouse that opened the door for the first job opportunity for the other. Continuing to follow what had proven to be a workable plan the roles were reversed, with the new wage earner paying the expenses, and the other becoming the student.
Along the way, the old mobile home was sold for enough money to make a down payment on a little house, and another milestone was achieved. At age twenty-two they were homeowners.....not easy, but with determination, perseverance, and frugal living, it was a goal that was indeed possible.
Over the years there were different jobs, different houses, and different challenges to be met. Again, sharing the load with a partner of a like mind makes the challenges of life less daunting, but it doesn't make them go away. There are always challenges to be faced, and the road is not always of the paved variety.
Today, I hear about more and more young adults who move back into their parents' homes because they just can't make it. Too few jobs, housing is too expensive, college loan debt is too high, and a variety of other excuses......Perhaps it's true.....or perhaps it's the result of unreasonable expectations.
Is it unreasonable to start at the bottom and work your way up? Is it unreasonable to live in "cheap" housing until you can afford better? Is it unreasonable to work while you're going to college and pay for it as you go? I don't profess to have the answers, I just pose the questions since what we're doing now doesn't appear to be working all that well.......But, once again, what do I know?
So, on a cold January day all of their worldly possessions were loaded into a 12X60' mobile home, purchased with a loan from the friendly hometown banker, and the whole kit and caboodle was moved 70 miles south to start their new life. At least they would have a cheap place to live.....That is, if they found jobs that paid enough to make the $72 trailer payment, plus $40 for the space to park it. No problem, for like many young couples of the time, they simply had faith in each other and their ability to make it work.
Within a few weeks they were gainfully employed, one working to earn tuition money for school, and the other working to pay the living expenses. The jobs weren't glamorous, nor were they well paying, but they were a means to an end. Was it easy? No, but it was the first step toward becoming a self-sufficient family, and learning to work as a team to attain a common goal.
A few short years later it was graduation and time to start a career. Once again it was a team effort, and ultimately it was a connection made by one spouse that opened the door for the first job opportunity for the other. Continuing to follow what had proven to be a workable plan the roles were reversed, with the new wage earner paying the expenses, and the other becoming the student.
Along the way, the old mobile home was sold for enough money to make a down payment on a little house, and another milestone was achieved. At age twenty-two they were homeowners.....not easy, but with determination, perseverance, and frugal living, it was a goal that was indeed possible.
Over the years there were different jobs, different houses, and different challenges to be met. Again, sharing the load with a partner of a like mind makes the challenges of life less daunting, but it doesn't make them go away. There are always challenges to be faced, and the road is not always of the paved variety.
Today, I hear about more and more young adults who move back into their parents' homes because they just can't make it. Too few jobs, housing is too expensive, college loan debt is too high, and a variety of other excuses......Perhaps it's true.....or perhaps it's the result of unreasonable expectations.
Is it unreasonable to start at the bottom and work your way up? Is it unreasonable to live in "cheap" housing until you can afford better? Is it unreasonable to work while you're going to college and pay for it as you go? I don't profess to have the answers, I just pose the questions since what we're doing now doesn't appear to be working all that well.......But, once again, what do I know?
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