...I coont evin spel injunir

and now I are one.

The re-clutched pickup is home and purring, ready for work and adventure just as soon as I and my junk pile rectify a Detroit error.

In the Vietnam era some blockheaded American truck designer decided a pickup spare should ride under the bed in order to make it inaccessible in conditions of mud, snow, and, most laughably, when one of the rear tires was flat. Enhanced hilarity resulted from the construction materials, uncoated mild steel warranted to rust tight within eight months or 8,000 miles. The satanic assembly on mine gave up a couple of years ago, and since then the spare has rattled around in the box or the passenger seat making, like His Obamaness, a general nuisance of itself.

Finally fed up, this peasant revolts, and today begins the process. A huge bolt, two short chains, and a small box of hefty eye bolts and other connecting gizmos will put the tire where it belongs: riding high and snugly on the front bumper.

It will serve a secondary purpose, absorbing excess energy when the driver accidentally dead centers teevee anchor persons, city council members, zoning enforcement officers and suchlike.

----

And as the sun sinks slowly in the westerrn sky, only the tidying up remains. The mount is stronger with the rim mounted inside out, so substantial

derustification is in order.

This gorilla drilled the half-inch holes in the bumper, and it's shown here to illustrate for the young that Black and Decker once had a higher glory than capturing shelf space at WalMart. There was a time you bought a B&D and bragged about it. Men used them hard for decades, then passed them down to their sons.