ho·dad (hö'dád) A person who does not surf, but who spends time at surfing beaches pretending to be a surfer.

 Last week I stopped by a friend’s house for just a few minutes.  She was in the hospital for the night and I went in to feed her cats. 

I had pulled up in the driveway, which was a slight incline.  I put my car in ‘Park’ and set the parking brake.  When I got back in my car, I pulled the shift from ‘Park’, but it felt weird, kind of loose, but then I realized that the shifter seemed to be stuck in ‘P’.  I took my foot off the brake and managed to coast back down the driveway, so it couldn’t have been in ‘Park’. 

The street slightly goes downhill so I was able to park at the curb in front of the house.  It was dark.  I got my flashlight to see what gear I was in.  It pointed at Neutral.  But, the shifter was pushed up like in Park.

I called Charlie to come and get me.  He tried to get the shifter out of Park, but couldn’t and didn’t want to pull too hard.  We left the car there for the night. 

I called my mechanic and he said if it was my transmission, he would refer me to a good transmission guy.  I could have the car towed there.  I later talked to him and he said he could look at it in the afternoon.

Since I had some errands to run in the morning, I waited to call the auto club to order a tow truck to meet me at my car.  I gave them the address on “Yosemite Avenue”.  I was questioned if it was avenue, street or way.  I said I thought it was avenue.  The dispatcher said she had it and would send a tow truck.

I drove on over to the address to wait.  While I was in front of my friend’s house, I thought I’d give her a call at the hospital to see if she knew whether she would be discharged that afternoon.  We talked for just a minute and I asked her, “Is your street Yosemite Street or Avenue?”  She said, “It’s not Yosemite, it’s Yellowstone.” 

Then it hit me, I gave the auto club the wrong address!  I quickly said goodbye and called the dispatcher back.  She said she’d change it and let the tow truck guy know.  This was going to take a little longer now.  He had already gone to Yosemite, but there was no such house number there.

I waited awhile longer and finally saw the tow truck coming down the street.  The driver was very nice and I think the wrong address is given more times than not.  He took it in stride.

Then when he looked at my problem, he discovered that the cable on the gear shift was broken.  It was not a transmission problem after all and he said he could tow it to my mechanic.  My auto club membership only pays 7 miles for towing and my mechanic was 12 miles away. 

I called my mechanic and he said I didn’t have to come with the tow truck.  They would take care of the tow charge and add it to my bill.  That loosened me up to go and take care of other things I needed to do.

So, it wound up costing only about $240 including the tow charge.  I picked up my car the next afternoon.

Then, on Saturday morning, Charlie got ready to go and get a haircut.  He came back in and said, “My car won’t start.”  All I could think of was, at least the cars take turns breaking down.  I guess if both were at the mechanic’s, we could drive the RV around........

So, since we really didn’t need both cars, we waited until Monday to work on getting the car running.  We suspected the battery so Charlie checked the battery and it was an AC/Delco.  We knew it was the original one which came with the car.  The car is a 2004, so the battery was about 7 years old.  But, we had no indication that the battery was dying.  The car was starting just fine before.

Our neighbor, Mr. Pat, knows all about cars.  Since the battery was not easily accessible and Charlie is not the mechanic type, he asked Mr. Pat to take a look. 

Two events were taking place that night: Monday Night Football, which Mr. Pat NEVER misses and a raid in the computer game, World of Warcraft, which Charlie’s character, “Wild”, hardly ever misses.  Changing this battery should have been a piece of cake, but ..........

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Charlie, explaining to one of his Warcraft friends (printed with his permission of course):
“Wild almost missed the raid on Monday night.  My car battery died on me.  Fortunately, it happened in my driveway, so the only place I was stuck was at home.  I am the world’s worst mechanic.  I have absolutely no skills in that department, but my neighbor across the street used to build his own race cars and he loves it when I come over and ask him to teach me something.  It was late in the afternoon and I wanted to get it fixed before my neighbor settled in for Monday Night Football.

I can and have changed out our RV engine battery before, but in my car the battery is buried under the fuse box and the chassis frame.  That was more taking apart of stuff than I was comfortable taking on by myself.  Plus, my neighbor has a garage full of cool tools we can use.  I borrowed the Mrs’ car and went off to buy a new battery while my neighbor gathered up his toys.  The job shouldn’t have taken very long, but then sometimes the simplest things can get complicated.

We had a hard time getting the fuse box out of the way so that we could unbolt a section of the frame to get at the battery.  Once we had that taken apart, and removed the piece of frame in the way, we were able to pull the old battery out.  The trouble started after we dropped the new battery in and started screwing in the bolt that holds the battery to the frame.  The under bolt, which is held in place by a heavy plastic pad, failed when the bolt was tightened down.  We then had to remove the plastic pad to get at the under bolt.  The plastic around the bolt had broken and we could not anchor down the battery. 

My neighbor doesn’t let such things bother him.  Me, I would have called Pep Boys or someone and tried to buy a new pad for the battery.  Instead, my neighbor carted the bolts and pad back to his garage.  First we retooled both the under bolt and the top bolt because the parts had been stripped (“we” because I was standing next to him while he did it).  He had tools to clean and regroove the bolts.  That took some time, and all the while my neighbor was explaining what each tool was called and how it was used.  It was all very fascinating, but I knew I wouldn’t remember any of it.

After retooling the bolts, we tackled the thick plastic pad.  My neighbor found some pieces of plastic, charged up his torch, and with my help (holding the plastic pieces with a pair of pliers) we melted that plastic around the broken areas so that the under bolt wouldn’t turn when we tightened it down.  That took awhile, too, when you consider I managed to break the half repaired pad before it had cooled enough to harden.  So we had to do it twice.

By the time we were ready to go back to the car it was starting to get dark - and it was pretty cold, too.  I was still in shorts and sandals.  We worked by flashlight and the time was getting close to the raid invite of 6pm.  We got the pad back into place, dropped the new battery back in again, and after some twisting and turning we got the battery anchored to the frame.  The melted plastic “fix” worked just fine.  It was even harder to get the fuse box back where it belonged than it had been to take it off, and we almost forgot to ratchet down the piece of frame we’d had to remove.  That would have been a real bummer as we’d have had to take everything apart again.  We caught ourselves in time, though.  With everything back in place, I started the car and everything was fine.

I helped pack up the tools and walked back to the garage with my neighbor.  I owe him a big favor.  I got to my computer five minutes before the raid was scheduled to start.

Invites didn’t go out until about 6:15pm for the raid, and Wild was in game by that time.  The Mrs had a hot bowl of soup ready for me and that hit the spot all the way down to my frozen toes (ok, so 50 degrees isn’t “frozen” but hey it’s California!).
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No, I really don’t mind being referred to as “The Mrs”, because to the people who Charlie plays with, I’m faceless and I’m sure they have a picture in their minds of this short, plump little rosy-faced “Mrs” who makes hot bowls of soup for her “Mr” who has been out putting a new battery in his car.

I didn't go out to see how the mechanics were doing.  I didn't hear any loud cussing, so I figured they were okay.  I'm glad I made some soup though.


We deal with our cars our own way.  I just call the tow truck...to the wrong address.
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Inside Hodads

Yesterday, Charlie and I went with our friends, Karen and Greg, to “Hodad’s, a burger joint in Ocean Beach.  They had been there before, but we hadn’t.  We will definitely be going back.  It was great.
Hodads opened in 1969.  It’s about a block or so from the beach.  Its walls are lined with vanity license plates from around the nation; surfboards are strung above the dining room. Seating includes hard wood booths and a counter along the wall with stools. Each booth is outfitted with a cardboard container that once held a six-pack of beer bottles. The half-dozen compartments are now used to store sugar and sweeteners for coffee.  Hodad’s motto, on a sign above the cash register: “No Shirt, No Shoes, No Problem!”

One of the booths where you can sit to eat is the front part of a Volkswagen bus, which seats two.  Karen and Greg said that they sat there and ate one time.  I looked over at the couple who were sitting there eating.  I don’t think I would want to sit in the bus.  It just got too much attention.    
The burgers are amazing.  They are available in three sizes (mini, single, and double), as cheeseburgers or bacon cheeseburgers, solo or as part of a basket with a pile of French fries or Frings (onion rings and french fries). 

This is double

Charlie and I ordered the single bacon cheeseburger, which we split.  We were warned that they were huge and we’re glad we listened.  Neither one of us would have been able to eat a whole one.  The menu warns that all burgers come with all condiments (lettuce, tomato, onion, pickle, mayo, mustard, and ketchup) “unless you say otherwise”.  We said “no ketchup”.

I made the mistake of taking the paper from my burger.  It’s there to keep the burger together and mine disintegrated.  But, I managed to eat it anyway, although it was messy and I went through 6 or 7 napkins. 

Could you drink one of these?

Charlie and Greg each had a chocolate malt.  I’ve never seen anything like it, but they both finished them, along with the burgers and fries.  We can’t wait for someone to visit us from out of town so we can take them to Hodads.


(I didn't take these pictures.  They are from the website)
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Today we took our little rescued mama cat, Kiki, to the vet to be spayed.  She did fine.  We picked her up this afternoon.  The vet said that Kiki was in heat.  Thank goodness we brought her and the kittens home.  Her kittens are barely 6 weeks old and if she had stayed outside, she would be getting ready to have another litter. 

We do have someone interested in Cody (Woody), the tabby kitten.  The two white ones, Dot and Dash, along with Kiki, will be sponsored by the same animal rescue service that we adopted Jonesie from last December.  Kiki has to go back to the vet in a couple of weeks to have her sutures removed.  The kittens are scheduled to be spayed on December 16.  Then Cody will be able to go to her new home. 

We’ve really enjoyed having kittens in the house.  Finding a new home  for them is bitter-sweet though.  But, when we brought them home with us, we knew we couldn’t keep them.  That’s not why we rescued them.  Now they and their mom have a chance to go to a home where they will be loved and cared for.

More later...........