11,324. RUDIMENTS, pt. 506

RUDIMENTS, pt. 506

(who turned me loose in

this crazy gold-mine?)

Inconsequential. Morose.

Ineffectual. Each of those

could describe me, singly

or all together. Destiny

and Fate, the two bouncing

balls of Life's aims, have

always been darting around

my head. It's always been

too much for me. I like to

think of things, using my

old, rudimentary, knowledge

of cars and engines and

automotive repair and

maintenance, and apply

it right back to life itself.

A car is simply (not very)

a series of systems. Every

little component is part of

a system, and each system

usually affects one or two

or more other systems to

which it is connected or

bears sequential-sharing

with. Oftentimes, while

replacing one, something

else as well needs the

equal replacing, because

of their contingency or

a dependency, one upon

the other. Boosting power

or hopping something up

always affects other parts

and components  -  and

their potential limitations.

It all needs to be kept in

mind and accounted for.

Two instances of things

spoken I've always kept

in mind : one time my

friend Bill Konowalow

was talking about speed

and power, and he asked

someone, 'Have you ever

outrun your headlights?

That's tricky.' I was for

a moment taken aback  - 

it was a marvelous image

and then he explained it

to mean going way faster

than your meager (1966)

beam of headlight could

cover. It was like Einstein's

'Relativity' in a strange and

automotive way. Darkness

at the break of day, surely.

And another time, some

kid was explaining to his

father the advanced system

of suspension on his new

vehicle -  about how the

car 'reads' bumps and thus

alters the suspension for

the (that) bump. The kid

was all enthused, the

father, quizzically, and

with resignation in his

voice, simply said, 'Yes,

but John, how long is

a bump?' I knew exactly

what he meant, I think,

and I extrapolated for

myself what he was

meaning  -  all that

technology and expended

research and energy for

the marginal (?) result of

an auto-system preparing

itself, reading somehow

the road, to adjust for a

'bump' of less than a

second's duration. Perhaps

it all made sense to the

auto-engineers who made

it, and the kid who used

it, but, already heck, I sided

with the father's cynicism.

-

Besides, cars were always

supposed to be bumpy. I

never knew how the idea

got started (more marketing

than anything else) that a

car and all its systems and

amenities should be like

one's living room. It's way

worse now, with computer

screens, movie players,

phone hookups, etc., PLUS

driverless-car aspects so you

can sit around and play cards

while your car takes you

somewhere. How did any

of that crap get going?

-

When I was a kid, I loved

cars for their primitive

values; the engine, roar

and noise, the occasional

leak-spots underneath, the

wide, flat, steering wheels

with horn rims within, the

flaws of paint and rubber.

Everyone on my block had

cars of their decade's vintage;

'56 Fords and Pontiacs, earlier

year vintage Hudsons and

Studebakers, Pakcards, the

obligatory '52 Chevies. There

were lots of them, and they

seemed to last forever. A

work friend of mine, from

Apellate, Tommy Rem, had

just gotten his license AND

with it he took possession

of his grandmother's '52

Chevy, in back (they all

seemed to be black). Most

every evening, whatever

year it was, that car could

be seen around town

somewhere. There was

a time, before things like

7-11's and Quick-Cheks,

when guys would just

hang out along Avenel

Street with their cars.

Tom's Barber Shop and

Murray's candy store,

the little wall at Schools

4&5, or down at Cameo's;

whatever. It was, surely,

a different world.

-

Here's an interesting tidbit;

another matter entire, but

it fits. My wife is big-time

on natural and herbal

remedies; for this or that,

minor ailments, etc. No

longer having a 'Chinatown'

access at the ready, we have,
instead, easy and local, in a
place called 'Iselin,' quite nearby,

a large South Asian population

with their many stores. There's

one herbal/medical specialist

there, with whom she's

become friendly and

recurrent. They talk a lot

and one day the lady blurts

out to my wife how she has

to be careful, here, dispensing

advice, because, 'In America

there are so many rules and

regulations, everything I do

is required to be license and

approve. I cannot just dispense

advice here, as only sell and

make herbal remedies. In

India all was so different.

Everything in America is so

difficult and regulated.' My

wife says, 'Huh? I thought

we were the home of the free

and the brave here. What's

happened that you can't tell

people things? And then,

why do you come here?' All

pretty straightforward, I

thought, and well said by

both. Ineffectual, and 

inconsequential, me piped 

up: 'It's because America has

been sold out to Big Pharma.

The Medical Industry now

owns this country  -  pushing

pills and chemical remedies.

They don't WANT people to

know about the likes of you.

They don't want, God forbid,

people to know things, even the

most simple things, like willow

bark (natural remedy) being

aspirin (which they concoct

chemically). In this country,

the past is dead, it's covered

over, concealed and forgotten.

Everyone you speak to is 

already a captive, though 

many think themselves free.

If you don't believe me, I'll

tell you about cars someday.

And when they discover a

brain pill, you let me know, 

OK? I'll dispense it freely.'

-

They looked at me as 

if I'd  just landed. Which 

I probably (wished I) had.