Guy Stuff

I suppose it is ironic that during the rainy season we ran out of water. From our taps that is. For three days we had the "ah there it is" and "whoops, there it goes" experience as I studied complicated water schematics and discussed options over the internet with our California visiting landlord. ( On the chain-of-command, who is higher, the Land Lord or the Land Baron?)
I say complicated in the sense that "righty tighty, lefty loosey" is pretty much the extent of my mechanical knowledge. It's the skill I use for putting in light bulbs so I can go back to reading my book. Nevertheless, I tested this and that and several times the other thing to no particular avail, which was a circumstance that surprised me as even though I know nothing about anything, I always assume I can do something. Luckily ( a word that describes my life) that assumption ultimately proved correct. The thing I did was I called a plumber. (If you think that last sentence was oddly constructed, you've never read Elmore Leonard.) (I copy the best.)

Oscar Torres showed up with his box of tools and his bag of tricks and we discussed the problem over coffee before getting started. Oscar has less English than I have Spanish but, clever fellow that I am, I had prepared my crib notes for the test and had them handy. Words like pipe (tuberia, valve (valvula) (both of which may also be women's body parts; the dictionary wasn't clear on that, but plumbing is plumbing) drain, overflow, locate and excavate were all at my finger tips. After the coffee we set about going over the same things I'd checked for days and came to the same conclusion which was, ta da... nothing's wrong but, ah... something's wrong.

It wasn't until we got to the last resort, a dangerous place to be because once past the last resort there's nowhere to go for vacation, that we discovered the actual problem. Our plan was to excavate (cavar) the pipes that exited the water storage tank and then bypass where we deduced a blockage might have occurred. When we exposed the said pipes, lo and behold, (does anyone say that anymore?) there was an on/off valve three quarters shut. When we turned it fully on, to no one's amazement, water was restored to our casa. The mystery of how the valve got turned to almost closed or had it been so all along and then got clogged just enough to restrict our water flow, remains. It doesn't really matter, we no longer have to consider air showers, (mimes do air showers really well) and we made a new friend, Oscar, who is a funny and very nice guy. (At one point I asked Oscar how to say "leak" in Spanish. He replied the word was gotear but that Panamanians don't use it. He said they say," esta leakyando" (it is leaking) an inglisimo (an englishism). We both laughed because leakyando is a funny word in any language.

I thought at this point my days as an alpha male construction guy were over and I could go back to being the absent minded book worm peering over his half glasses and saying "well actually my dear fellow" that I like to think of myself as when I'm not scratching my crotch and shouting something obscene at the football game on the tube. But nooooo.

The next day I went down to start our friend V's car to keep the battery from dying while she is away. Too late. Doornail. The car is parked snug tight to a wall at the top of a long steep, narrow driveway. There is no way to approach it with another vehicle for a cable jump start. I considered pushing it from the flat area at the top to the steep drive and then letting it roll to the bottom where I could gain access with another vehicle and effect the jump. What stopped me was the thought that some cars have no power steering when they are not running. If this were the case, I would be forced to stop the car on the steep slope and have to effect plan B at a treacherous angle. No way.

My B plan, (C would have been to call someone which was the plan I have used for most of my life and has saved me years that would have been lost to frustration and aggravation, but lost me instead piles of money that, saved, would have put me somewhere between Trump and Gates on the leaderboard) was to remove the battery from V's other vehicle, a pickup truck, and put it in her car. Wrongo again Lugnut. It too was doornailed. Still,there was another battery available, the one on my car. I walked back to my house, retreived my wheels and drove to V's. Removing V's car battery was a piece of cake which is a thing I enjoy when it is a description of doing something or is an actual piece of cake. Removing mine was a reminder that I do know and can use all the English language swear words and several more from Spanish. First I should mention that here is a list of all the tools I now own: a pair of pliers, a pair of needle nose pliers, a small adjustable wrench (I think those are called crescents and it just now occurs to me that that is because of their shape. C'mon, who knew?) and two screw drivers. Absent was, fortunately, a hammer and I say fortunately because I am sure I would have used one had it been available. The screw giszmos on my battery were on so tight and my tools were so inadequate for the job, none of them actually fit on the gizmos, that I was nearly, once again, at wit's end, a place I have already mentioned I don't like to visit because it is far too serious. Perseverence was with me though, that and a lot of rain, did I mention it was raining, and I eventually freed my battery from its restraints and carried it up the hill. By the way, is there any reason they have to be that heavy? I put the battery in V's car, started it up and then, while the car was running, I removed it and put V's battery back in. This was a thing I learned was possible a couple of years ago when I saw a friend do it. (Woowoo Charly says that his battery died so that I would learn that lesson and have it handy on this occassion. Poor guy had to suffer for my education, which is a thing I thought only my school teachers had to do.) I put my battery in the back of V's car and drove it to the bottom of the hill. I put it back in my car and then drove both cars, simultaneously, to my house. No, I'm just kidding, really. Gus drove one.

And so ended my week of he man stuff. It was interesting, fun even, in a sort of manly man way. I restored water to the cave and transportation to the tribe. I kind of miss it. Think I'll go lift something...heavy.