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REALLY LONG POST WARNING
So I was working on my fuel pump assembly last night, and my dad came over. We both grinded on the assembly for a while, and then he started whinning. So I took a break from the pump for a while to ge and get the Jag running. She always needs a little coaxing coming out of storage. Some type of fluid is all over the ground, or flat tire, or dead battery. This time it was all three. I love that car.
So I clean up the fluid leak. Power steering I believe. fire up the air compressor, and pump up the tire. grab the jumper cables out of the trunk, and jump it off dad's pick up truck.
She's still not happy. blew something in circuit one... I know that 'cause she tells me. In an annoying dot matrix display that constantly flashes. lights work. radio works. hmmm... those are the two that usually go. I can't hear the self leveling hydrualic pump... hmm...
Jump in with my dad, and take off for a ride. This jag was the first car that I bought with my own money. It's a 1988 jaguar XJ6 in black with a small gold pin stripe. I firmly believe as a car guy that every car that you own leaves an impression on you. I know that the stealth has. But I think that the car that you buy for the first time leaves the biggest mark on you. I know it did for me. As soon as I got the car home from "Honest Bob's Used Cars" (True name of the place I bought it from) my uncle and cousins started in on making fun of me. It wasn't an F-body.
Every year I think about selling the jag. Especially in the fall when It's been in storage for about three weeks, and it hits that perfect temperature drop where the fitting going into the power steering rack contracts, and the power steering rack is a different metal, and contracts slightly slower, and it pisses out half the power steering fluid. It does this twice a year. every year. It's like the car has it's period or something. Trying to stop it is as pointless as trying to stop the sun from rising, and it's kinda a funny quirk that the car has.
But, every year, I get the little oopsies fixed up, and go for that first ride and fall in love all over again. There is not another car that I have ridden in yet that can dupilcate that ride. No caddy comes close. benz, pish. buick, ha ha ha, no! even the new jags seem rough by comparison. the car feels like it floats down the road. The leather seats from almost two decades ago hug you like they were stitched together yesterday in a soft spongy-ness that can only be compared to a cloud. It was made in the decade of compitetion between jaguar and rolls royce when they were trying to see who could make the quietest car. You might remember the rolls ad "All you can hear is the clock." Yeah, the jag is that quiet. When your going down the road and it starts to rain you think your going def it's so loud, and then you realize, it's not that the rain is so loud, it's that the car rides so quiet, and you were used to it. It also has that Jaguar feeling that the new ones lack completely since ford toke them over. Granted, there are more goofy electrical gremilins in my jag than an entire fleet of other cars, and the british do EVERYTHING ass-backwards in the engine bay, but it has a sense of style that the car industry has been lacking for 10 years.
I put a stereo in it at the time that was state of the art. voice activation, graphic head unit that was color matched to the gauges, complete with 8 boston acoustic speakers. It's not loud, but it's clarity cannot be argued. And that's the target I was aiming for. You don't need a loud system in a car this quiet. It'd be like swatting a fly with a boat oar.
And so we rode. a ride like this can't just end up at any old place, and so we hit our favorite dinning/drinking establishment. Buffalo Wild Wings. I love B-dubs. It's my home away from home. They know us by name there, and when they see us parking they get our beers and set up a table for us. Hell, I've dated half the waitresses there...
Cold beer, a dozen wings, and a load of french fries (buffalo chips) brought a tear to my eye. It was a good, good night.
But then I heard the worst news that I have heard since, I don't know... It's been a while since I've heard news this bad. Every Thursday night since I have been going to B-dubs has been karaoke night. We drink, talk stupid, sing along with guys/girls that can't sing, and if we get drunk enough, go up and sing ourselves. (I sing very poorly, but I can sing.) So the waitress says that "We had better go up and sing, cause it's the last night for Karaoke."
What?
Apparently the geniuses at the top of the B-dubs ladder are replacing karaoke night with some queer-ass game show. Loosely based off from family fued. I hate that show. THE PRICE IS WRONG BOB!
So being the last night of karaoke at B-dubs we have to go and get really plastered. And sing. really badly. I mean this has to be a night that goes down in karaoke history. And I'll be damned If I'm not the man for that job.
So we pounded down our wings and beer, and then more beer, and more, and you get the picture. at that point the karaoke machine was pretty well warmed up. There were a couple of guys that did a really good couple of songs, and a girl that had everybody clapping and cheering, so the stage was set.
I got up and took my place. I sang "Come Sail Away" by styx. In a Cartman voice. By the end of the first verse I had people on there feet cheering. by the end of the second verse there were panties being thrown on the stage. Ok, I made that second part up, but they were all cheering me on through the whole song, and I had a standing ovation all the way to my seat, and two high fives.
We proceded to drink more and sing more, I sang at least one green day song, and "behind blue eyes" by "The who." apparently I murdered the who song, because the owner of the equipment started singing along to help me. Or maybe he just really liked the song.
After that I don't remember. I just remember waking up at 5:30 this morning to go to work. and I have a headache. a big one.
So I got my car out, and running, and she is so sweet, but I can no longer sing karaoke at B-dubs... boo.
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Bad decisions make good stories.
Look at it! LOOK AT MY @SS AND TELL ME IT'S PRETTY!
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