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Tuesday, August 19, 2014

In the future she can say "My Old School"

**Monday Morning, August 18th****
I love this song by Steely Dan...

...with apologies for the quality, but it's the best sounding of the clips I can find for this song that also includes a "vintage" performance by the band.

"...when you put me on the Wolverine up to Annandale".  

In the song, "Annandale" probably refers to the town of Annandale on Hudson, home to Bard College, where I believe that the founders of Steely Dan, Donald Fagan and Walter Becker first met.

Whenever I think of college I think of this song for some reason.

I'm thinking of college a lot these days for several reasons, none the least of which is the fact that my middle daughter is heading up to Amherst to begin her graduate studies in Biology.   Smart young lady to say the least, but then again her two sisters are bright bulbs as well.  I take no credit for that by the way; at best I'll probably say that I didn't harm matters all that much.

One of the things I will, by the way, take credit for is the fact that I am helping to move much of my daughter's stuff (well her stuff and the stuff of her roommate) to Amherst.  500 miles in a 12 foot Penske rental truck.  Oh, and I have crappy to-non-existent depth perception.  Score!  Luckily I have a co-pilot in the guise of my youngest daughter.  Such thing are important, if for no reason than to keep me from going crazy at the level of concentration required to keep the truckster on the straight and narrow over I84.  By the way, I did purchase the optional insurance for  the truck, you know, just in case.  

In another thought, you have to give credit for folks, our children included, who are willing to take big chances.  Be it a big change at work, moving away to college or an entirely new job, we have to acknowledge that it takes guts to try new stuff.  We "older folks" sometimes fall into patterns where we stop doing big things, which is a shame.  I know that for myself at least, it takes effort to do the big stuff.  It's as if the emotional gravity that wants to keep me grounded gets significantly stronger the older I get.  I suspect that's true for others as well.  And so I ramble.

Anyway, the Amherst bound truck sets sail shortly.

**Tuesday Evening, August 18th****
It was pure, unadulterated Hell.  Hell I tell you!  One of the worst experiences that I've had in years.  I refer, of course, to driving a 12' rental truck for over 10 hours yesterday at highway speeds.  The kind of thing that Dad's do for their daughters.  Pretty much only for their daughters.

I almost crushed a poor Chevy Spark.  Got blindspots?

The tire low pressure warning light went off 45 miles into the trip, giving me visions of a burst tire and careening off an I84 embankment.  Luckily it was a bad sensor.

This truck had light steering.  Very light.  Light as in the slightest correction sent it plowing into whatever direction it was pointed to at the very moment.

I was able to average about 60 miles an hour on good roads.  This meant that I did about 50 in Pennsylvania.

My knees were literally locked into place after pulling into the truck rental place last night.  My left foot was numb.

I set a "World's Steve Record" not not taking bathroom breaks on the trip back:  just one stop between Amherst and Pittston.  I was so busy concentrating on not getting killed driving the truck that apparently my urination system simply stopped working.  I think my left leg ended up filling with urine, like some kind of weird inverse catheter bag.

All told, it was a long day.

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