Sunday, April 22, 2007

'All revved up with....

no place to go!!!'

Sums up a lot of 2007 but most especially this trip.

Put in a last few hours this morning. Finished rigging the flaps on an old C90. (From scratch.)

Easy money. They are sweet now. Damn near exactly flush with the fuselage. Evenly matched from right to left. Matched up on both sides. If she doesn't fly straight, It Ain't My Fault.

no place to go'...

Hotel room is policed up.

45 Lbs of long handles are packed. (Had to sit on the bag to zip it.)
My uniform for tomorrow will go into the tool box. (NOT gonna unzip that bag!)
I'll wear what I have on to fly.

I burned a road trip CD and titled it "Leaving Indy, IN". Should be a good listen.

It kicks off with Dr Hook, "The Last Morning".

A double tap of Sir Elton John, "Holiday Inn" and "Town of Plenty"

(...strewn across the runway were the passports and the luggage...
all that remains of a rugged individual...) EJ

It goes on.

Rare Earth, Lowen and Navarro, Joe Ely, Dylan, Sweet, Ozark Mountain Daredevils, Walter Egan, Leo Sayer, Meatloaf...

I still don't have a reservation to get out of Indy.

I have identified the southbound interstates....

I hope it doesn't come to that (OK, it wont. Let me daydream.) BUT, if it did come down to a hitch. It would be a helluva tale. Or, could be. Could be a total yawn.

It wouldn't be the first time I've been left to find my own way home. Just the first time within the U.S.A.

The Architect informs me that he never received his piece of the Parthenon.

One, that begs another trip up (ALL) of those steps.

Two, that means that someone bid on an 'abandoned' storage unit and found a rock.

Just a rock. To them.

Kinda serves the vultures right. They held a piece of history and tossed it over their shoulder.

Hey, Macanudo! We'll add it to the Sand Dollars. It'll be like... a mission!

Hey, a chance to recreate the "Dos Lunas Blanco de Trujillo"!!! LOL!!! (Please don't ask 'cause I'm liable to spill it!)

Burger is here. Spurs are on. Time to publish!

I was out on the prowl
out by the edge of the track
like a son of a jackal
I was the leader of the pack
but every Saturday night
I felt the fever grow
Do you know what it's like?
All revved up!
With no place to go..."

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