It's a bitter pill
I swallow here
To be rent from one so dear
We fought for justice,
And not for gain
But the magistrate sent me away.
-Van Diemen's Land
Well, at any rate, looks like tomorrow is court for me. That should be an exciting time! And I don't mean I'll be running around going "Ding, Dong, the witch is dead". (Mainly because hopefully anyone I know matching that description will not be dead). But rather, it;s something that's been a long time coming- a time for us to move on with our lives, and put the pieces back together. I know that this has to happen if I'm ever to get on with my life- I just wish I had a clearer picture of that life! But as time goes on, I get a little glimpse here and there.
Apart from that, it's time to move trucks at work! Oh boy, the fun never stops! I'm still not entirely clear on the new layout they've got planned for us, despite the fact that I'm moving trucks into it. See what I mean about needing a clearer picture now and again? Well, the big adventure today was an inexplicably stuck brake on a trailer. The trailer looks a good deal like one of the old Radio Flyer wagons, except larger and equipped with air brakes. And not painted red. But air brakes proved to be the problem, as they somehow got locked up on one wheel. Air brakes consist of two main components- an air chamber, and a spring chamber. The spring chamber kicks in when there's not enough air pressure to release it (usually around 60 psi). This might not sound like much, but the spring is thick steel and the size of a coffee can- so don't go taking the spring chamber apart without the right tools! At any rate, this spring releases when air enters the chamber- then it's simply a matter of pressing the brake pedal, which creates (you guessed it) air pressure, which in turn moves the brake arms, which are connected to the brake pads- and thereby braking happens. Thrilling, no? Well, point being, somehow the air chamber of one wheel (there are 4 air chambers on the trailer, one per wheel) got seized up and wouldn't move. I had never seen this happen before- usually a faulty air line will cause the chambers not to pressurize at all, and usually leak pressurized air all over the place, more often than not engaging the spring brakes. Since we were just moving the thing around the motor pool, I was all for saying screw it, just drag the stupid thing. If the brake chamber unfreezes, great. If it doesn't, well, tough. Of course, the Army mentality is why put off till later what will consume time and resources now? So we got one of our brilliant mechanics (and I say that in all seriousness, these guys and gals know their stuff inside and out), who went to work on it, finally getting the brake freed- there was somehow a frozen bolt in there. I don't quite understand the mechanism myself, but it got fixed, and the truck eventually got moved. Of course, the backing pin almost broke, but then again, this trailer was older than I am. The backing pin is, well, a big metal pin. It locks up the front two wheels of the trailer, which can turn back and forth, making cornering with the trailer. Again, think a Radio Flyer wagon and you've got the basic design of it. For some unknowable reason, the backing pin had a piece of bolt (the part with the screw threads on it) jammed under the release mechanism. The net result of this was that the pin couldn't be released., and we had to do some 'drifting' with the trailer. Apparently this is also a style of street racing- not recommended, as the physics of it mean that as any force can be diverted from its course, so your car sliding sideways can be diverted- the momentum then tends to send you flying, however. I actually got a pretty good skin graft (or perhaps its opposite) doing that on a bike once. The situation was flying down a hill where a dry streambed was- the dry streambed, like most of them, contained sand and loose rocks. I was trying to navigate this hill without losing control of the bike, which decided to go every which way, the front wheel, which controls your steering and direction, going every which way- skidding off a chunk of sand here, jerking sideways as it slid off a rock there. Now the slope of this hill increased, meaning momentum does what it does- mainly make you go faster. Knowing that the front wheel would more or less keep me going in a straight line, I braked on the front. My back tire, which by this point was so far behind my center of gravity as to be no help, decided it was having none of this, and began to drift to my left. So here's the situation- me sliding sideways at an alarming rate of speed down the hill, while wrestling the handlebars around to try and get the front wheel back where it belongs. Then I hit a rock hard enough to stop the bike short. As you may know, an object in motion tends to remain in motion- in this case, the bike was no longer in motion. I was. I flew gracefully off the bike, which clattered to the ground, and continued flying through the air. I remember watching the ground rush by underneath me, and thinking- "Damn. There's no way this isn't going to hurt like hell." It was actually somewhat exciting flying- the landing was a rough one, though. I was in the air long enough to kind of roll over, landing on my right shoulder and yanking it down towards my hips in a straight line. It dislocated, briefly, then snapped back into place. In retrospect, I was lucky I didn't seriously tear something, but as it was, your body tissues tend to not like to be yanked on quite so much. In addition to this, I lost a considerable chunk of skin off the back of my hand. I stood up and blistered the earth with a string of profanity that has yet to be matched for sheer creativity and artistry in my history. My arm hung like a rope off of my shoulder, numb and immobile. This turned out to be the best part, as feeling gradually came back into it, and my muscles and tendons began to stage a protest at this gross injustice. It was a good two weeks before I regained the full use of it, mainly due to soreness. This made my then job a challenge, as I worked stocking shelves in a grocery store. But all in all, an epic crash story.
Wow, I certainly got off topic there! But as long as I'm in that vein, I also had a less spectacular bike crash, resulting in a scar I have to this day. The prior crash left a tiny mark on my shoulder from some scratches, that you wouldn't even notice unless you really stared at my shoulder and I pointed it out to you. (I can think of maybe two people in the world who would be in that situation). This next crash occurred in Enfield, when I was heading home from a late shift at work. Actually, most of my shifts at that point in my life were late ones. But there I was, no car but a bike. So off I would go to work on a bicycle, which actually generally proved to be a pretty equitable solution. The problem with this is, sometimes you can't see where you're going in the wee hours of the morning. So as I was going along, I sideswiped a curb- the point where the road ends and the sidewalk begins- the best solution is to either take the thing head-on and jerk your handlebars up to get over the bump, or to look for a driveway or business entrance, where the curb isn't. Don't do what I did, which is try to run up on the curb sideways. It's a good way to go flying- this time, the crash was a little less serious, but I was wearing short sleeves, and took a good beating on my forearm just below the elbow. It subsequently proved to be most sticky and messy, and I had a fun hour or so picking out gravel. It wasn't that serious, but did scar over most impressively. Hurt like hell, too.
Well, the end of this long and rambling tale is perhaps this- to some extent, our past makes us who we are. But always we are free to remake ourselves. In fact, we decide who we will be- either by actions or inactions. And I know for one, that inaction is not always the best course to take. But wish me luck tomorrow, and the rest of this week! I think once I get through Tuesday, (hopefully I do get through Tuesday!) things will be a little bit easier. Life goes on, it seems- if we can keep going on through, eventually the far shore will come near.
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