Not much happening today.

Today is somewhat of a blank for me. I was up last night, re-reading my favorite book of all time, "The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn" by Mark Twain. It was the first book I ever read as a kid in 1967 and I decided then I would read it every two years from that point forward. I have stuck to that promise thru thick and thin, puberty, girls, driving and owning my first car (a 65 GTO, 389 three Duce, 4-speed), high school graduation, college football, college graduation and finally marriage to my current and only bride of nearly thirty years. I've read it fifteen times in the years we've been married alone. Now I've read hundreds of other books too, everything from assembly manuals to Pat Conroy, and enjoyed most if not all of them.

You might be thinking to yourself, "Assembly Manuals"? What are they and why would you be reading them? Here goes: when I was run over in 1990, I was in the hospital for two years, on my back, with nothing to do but read and contemplate life. I was in one hell of a fix, health wise, so reading became my passion. I read a lifetime worth of books those two years I spend horizontally. I read everthing from doctors reference guides, nurses guides to drug interactions, to ingredients on shampoo bottles...did you know that the most common ingredient in all shampoo is METHOCHLORALISOTHIAZOLINONE? It's also the longest ingredient, 27 letters, of any household item ingredient list I've ever read. It's a common ingredient in every shampoo, regardless of what the cost per ounce might be, from Paul Masson hair elite,  to Yukka Dew (the shampoo equivalent to swill), they all have it. And I have no idea what it is it does or who produces it. This must be true however, the sellers of  "old 27" must have a strong lobbyist, or a serious blackmail styled stranglehold on the shampoo conglomerate. It is like gasoline, all cars use it, from the Bugatti Veyron to the Kia Sorento. So someone is getting paid every time you "Lather, Rinse and repeat".

So, I've rambled on about shampoo probably longer than you care to read, but it should be an indicator as to how much reading time I was afforded during my 730 days inside. I even learned the art of reading upside down. It forced me to utilize the other side of my brain and helped me be able to retain information better. It was also being stored in the clean, unused side of my purple haze, the side I genuinely used as a hat rack for many years. If you don't get the reference, my dad used to say to me, "Son, start thinking and stop using you head as just a hat rack".

As far as reading assembly manuals go, I was so bored I'd read every automotive publication I  could get my hands on. most times I'd go to the plastic surgeons offices and pilfer the Road&Track, Automobile, Car&Driver, and any other magazine car related, from the waiting rooms where mostly women awaiting boob jobs read Better Homes and Gardens and Cosmopolitan. I also read a somewhat obscure publication, Hemming's Motor News, cover to cover every month too. My dad would drop off his previously read copies when he'd come visit from Memphis where he and my mom lived during his assignment there. Hemming's is the "Bible" of the automotive world, (written down the side) and still shows up every month at my doorstep as an annual gift from my dad. It's a good inch thick and loaded with tons of cool stuff, most of which I couldn't afford right now if it were  offered for free and all I needed to do was drive to where it is sitting and back to acquire it.  Not whining, just being truthful here. On one of my monthly  Hemming's  hospital reads I noticed that a company was reprinting assembly manuals for automobiles. The kind the dudes who worked the lines when cars were being bolted together utilized when at task. I had (and still have) a 1974 Z-28 and noticed a manual was available for my model, so I ordered it COD and had it delivered right to my room at Georgia Baptist Hospital, room 355, and read that sucker cover to cover, three times. Twice right side up and once upside down. I then decided I'd order manuals on cars I hoped I'd someday own, like a 69 Z-28 and a 70 GTO, both of which are currently awaiting completion in my livery. I studied those manuals so I could pick up a random part and give you the location, part number, and sequence in which it was installed in the car, and torque specs too. I'm not the filetting knife in the drawer of life, mind you, but I sure as hell ain't the butter knife either. I was afforded lots of time to read and I took advantage of it.

You'd be interested to know how I paid for my manuals and vast publications. I was good friends with a gentleman who owned a Lance Cracker distributorship. He owned five trucks that delivered snacks if all sorts, from cheese doodles to honey buns, cheese crackers filled with peanut butter to tater chips. I made him a loan in my previous life, banking, when no one else would when he wanted to buy said snack company route. He showed his gratitude and loyalty by keeping me deep in fresh Lance crackers and fruit. In turn, I had my own little cottage industry going right there in room 355, reselling those items to nurses and doctors for magazine subscriptions and assembly manuals sent COD. My friend didn't care, someone else had the route that included the hospital I was living in, so he was cool with it. Plus, I would go visit the children's orthopedic floor, same level as mine, different wing. I'd take those brave little souls candy and crackers just to somehow ease the burden they suffered under. I mean, I was thirty years old when I got hammered. These kids hadn't even got going good and were laid up just like me, and considerably worse. I'd make my rounds in an old wooden wheel chair I found one day when I ventured into an old storage room I had found, picked the lock and chose my "Pontiac", what I called my rickety old chair. I hauled that tired old chair back to my room and carefully disassembled it, lubed (with petroleum jelly) all the moving parts, re-spoked old wooden wheels and got her back on the road. I wheeled many a mile in that chair, and met a lot of kids who redefined true bravery for me.

I'll finish by telling you that, for me, Huckleberry Finn keeps me connected to the kid I was, the teen I was (and still am according to my bride), the college graduate I was, the young father I was, the loyal employee I was, and the grandpaw I am now. The loyal friend I am to those who call me the same and a few who don't. Huckleberry Finn has caused me reflect on my life, to some degree, the older I get. Not in a bad or negative way, mind you, but in a very positive way. Letting me know that although the words on those pages have stayed the same, I have changed with the times, evolved, into the man I am now. It reminds me of loyalty and true friendship, even in the worst of situations. It also reminds me of one undeniable truth, and for me it is this:

Life is Good.