What do I think?

Mowing, free agents, and spark plugs

by Barry Bauer

We mowed our lawn last week for the first time this year. While I was in the front yard with the self-propelled mower making crop circles, Betty was out in the backyard mowing with the rider.

The backyard is at least five times bigger than the front, but Betty makes short work of it. If there was such a thing as a lawn traffic cop, she would have gotten a ton of tickets for speeding by now. I don’t go as fast as she does because my reflexes have gone from .002 of a sec. to about 5-10 minutes.

* * *

My pick to win Celebrity Apprentice, Annie Duke, lost. It’s not that she didn’t do a lot of things right; she just said the wrong thing. She wished Joan Rivers dead, and I think that was too much for Donald Trump.

Geez Annie, that was a little ruthless.

* * *

After last week’s millage election a school official said that maybe they didn’t get their message across. I was kind of hoping that we, the taxpayer, got our message across to them instead. I doubt it though.

Look for another election probably in August and another one next spring if that one fails. Just like the federal government, our voice means nothing to them. I’m sure the school administration will work hard getting their message out again which is, spend, spend, spend.

This isn’t one of those, “we can’t meet the budget,” millage proposal. It’s one of those, “let the good times roll,” things.

The trouble is, when are the good times returning? Don’t ask former employees of Federal-Mogul, GM, Ford, Chrysler, Delphi, Lear Corp. and Johnson Controls who have lost their jobs. They don’t know either.

* * *

I’d like to challenge all those pro football free agents out there who think they’re so damned hot to join the Detroit Lions and show the world you really can make a difference and you’re not simply riding on your teammate’s coattails. It’s easy being a star amongst stars.

It’s a given that a lot of players refuse to come to Detroit because of the Lion’s long-standing reputation as a loser. That will never change unless these football players really do want a challenge.

Hopefully they’ll get the message.

* * *

While cleaning up the garage for the spring clean up I came across a little box containing one lonely spark plug. Probably for one of our lawn or garden machines. That brought back some memories.

In 1962 I bought a set of reconditioned spark plugs at a store that was located in the old Matthew’s Dairy building, downtown St. Johns on Clinton Ave. I think it was called Mini-Mart, but then I couldn’t swear by it. I installed them in my 1955 Ford and thought I was set for a while. Not so, said Fate. On a cold winter’s day the Ford refused to start. I had to hitch a ride to my job as a wash boy and parts chaser at Cain’s Buick, Pontiac, and GMC in downtown St. Johns.

If it weren’t for Alex Feldpausch, who also worked at Cain’s as a mechanic, it would still be sitting there 47 years later.

He took me home from work with a booster battery in the trunk and worked on getting it started. After what seemed like 20 minutes of cranking, it finally fired and then the #@%$&* started. He said I should get rid of those spark plugs and put the old ones back in — which I did. I got my money back for those reconditioned spark plugs and never bought them again.

Ollie Slagell worked at Federal-Mogul on the automatic wall broach machines (we had two of them) and also did car repair on the side in his garage. He was always fond of cleaning old spark plugs and putting them in his cars or somebody else’s car if they asked him to. They used to have a machine that sand blasted spark plugs; and after re-gapping, it made them appear new again.

I heard afterwards that if your car was an oil burner, the spark plugs would collect gunk; and the sand would stick up inside them until installed back in a vehicle and then would dump the sand on top of the pistons causing engine damage.

I don’t know first hand if that’s true or not, but it makes sense to me.

* * *

It’s getting that time of year when we need to start thinking about the garden. Will I drag my rototiller out of the shed and work it up myself, or should we call Gale Rowell who’s done it the past few years?

You tell me.

Until the next time . . .