Still Stinky?

Word on the street is that 'burb doesn't reek of gasoline since the carburetor's been fixed.
That's just what I hear.... I haven't checked it out first-hand yet. I would, but the seat is still in the garage, not the Suburban.

Another Weekend Down

This weekend, James was going to finish lowering the Suburban (you may remember he only got the front lowered last weekend before the fuel line broke), install the front seats (bought those last weekend, and had planned on installing then), and fix the carburetor (apparently what he thought was a fuel leak was dumping straight from the carburetor).
Anyway, Friday night was out of the question because his mom was coming over to watch Miss America. She had done some sewing for Miss Missouri, and wanted to see her work on stage. Friday night got switched to Saturday night only after it was too late to make plans for Friday. So Saturday morning James started with his one true love... the 'Burb. I guess he was working on the carburetor Saturday... not really sure. All I know is, our house stunk of gasoline and oil. He started around 9 or 9:30 am, and said he was "going to work 'till lunchtime on the Suburban and then head to the office". Apparently I didn't understand what this meant was, "I'm going to work on this monstrosity until you decide to do anything with your day, at which point I will come in and ask you to wait for me to clean up so we can drive 45 minutes and spend more money buying more crap for this beast." Crap, in this case, meant rocker panels and mirrors. Somehow I missed the cue, and by the time I decided I'd had enough and headed out to take T to the bookstore and grocery shopping, James headed in asking me to wait so we could all go get the crap (aka, rocker panels and mirrors).
All things being equal, it was a nice drive other than the fact that I went. We did end up stopping at the bookstore on the way back, but I regretted it before we even got home. By then, it was dinner time and I had nothing prepared, hadn't been to the grocery store, and James' mom was coming over to watch Miss America any time.
Sunday was equally entertaining. James started on the Suburban around 9 am, planning again to work until lunchtime and head to the office. Anyway, around 2 pm I decided to head to the grocery store since he was still working on lowering the back end of the 'burb. He was quite sure I would feel differently about the beast after it lost 4-6" in height. It's like we've never met.
I headed outside to tell him I was going shopping, and was met with "D'ya know what's funny? Or not so funny?" Good Lord, do I want to? "That break line I replaced last weekend? I just cut right through it. Want to go get me a new one?" Ummm....no, not really. But, what the heck... the guy at Autozone got a laugh out of it. I was in there approximately 12 seconds before he told me I could put the line James sent me with on the counter... because, from the look on my face, I really didn't want to be holding it. Not unless I'm beating it over a '71 Suburban.
Get home, give him the break line, ask how long it will be. Why do I even bother asking? Twenty minutes to get the wheels back on, maybe an hour total to get the break line buttoned up. Fast forward THREE HOURS... he finally comes in and cleans up for dinner. He even asked what he could do to help. I think he could actually see my loathing of the 'burb oozing out of my eye sockets. He can be pretty perceptive like that.

James' Point of View

Just to clarify... I do, in fact, have a heart. And to prove it isn't made of ice, I'm publishing a photo history the way James sees his 'burb. Ain't she somethin'?

"The boys are gonna love this. We'll work on it together. It'll be fun."

Everyone working together.

Classic style. So cool.

They really are excited about working on the Suburban with Dad. Edward has already told everyone that he got to go for a ride already. In the front seat! He was pretty pumped.

History in Photos

You may remember me saying something to the tune of "...worse than I expected.... not a good idea...rust...". Well, just to clarify - I meant it.

I thought I would take the opportunity to share a photo history since the Burb has been with us.

Rust, rust and more rust. I could show more, but I think the pattern is obvious.

Starting Fluid? Don't waste the time or money... nothing started.



This interior is to die for. And I mean that.

The only thing that makes this Suburban bearable is how good my boys look working on it.

The U-haul Debacle

Don't forget to check out James' post. He skimmed over the U-haul debacle, so I'm left filling in the blanks.

The plan was, indeed, for me to drop James off at a friend's house so they could ride up to Kirksville together. James would drive the Suburban home, and his buddy would follow (in case parts started flying off on the highway or something). In the weeks leading up to this, I kept commenting that this truck doesn't even run. Hubby just laughed and said, "Why do you think that? It runs." Midweek, James gets a call from the owner saying he "will get it running".

More comments from me about buying a truck that doesn't run carried us through the rest of the week.

Saturday morning, James gets a call from the owner saying he got it running... but it won't stay running. The guy would "feel better" if James would trailer it home. It bothers the guy enough that he offers to take $200 off the price to cover the cost of the U-haul. I made a few comments regarding the fact that the guy has been telling James to trailer this 'burb from the get-go, and again... why?

James gets more excited as he makes arrangements to pick up a U-haul in Kirksville. We load the boys in the car and head to our friend's place to start thier little adventure. HOWEVER, U-haul calls back.

**I feel it is my duty, a this point, to express how wonderful the St. Peters U-haul office is. This guy jumped through hoops to help James rent from another U-haul location.**

Anyway, Kiksville doesn't have the trailer we need. The guys will have to pick one up from another location along the way.

Change of plans: I am now driving to Wright City to pick up our friend, then to Montgumery City to pick up the trailer, then home. When we got to Montgomery city, though, the price had changed to over $280. "That's okay" they say, call dispatch Monday morning for a partial refund, "It should be no problem".

James and his buddy load up and head out... but not before James takes my debit card. See, he needs to stop for cash at an ATM, but never got his PIN number when we got new cards a year ago. So I drive home... at two o'clock... with two hungry kids... no money for lunch... and less than a quarter tank of gas.

No one enjoyed that ride home.

The Great Debate

For starters, James seems to think it wise to sell one vehicle before looking into its replacement. He must - he's done it 3 times in the past year. I, on the other hand, don't particularly enjoy being the chauffer on his little escapades. Going to look at every OLD Chevy Suburban in the Show-Me State when temperatures dip below freezing isn't my cup 'o tea. Honestly, I think he enjoys watching the tension build up inside me. It's hard to get mad, though. He gets this huge grin just driving to see one of these. Personally, I think he needs help. There must be some kind of "Suburbans Anonymos" or something.

Truth be told, I do think a nice '71 Chevy Suburban would be sweet. And having a project car would be great for the boys. I can totally see us cruising around in a completly restored 'Burb having a great time.

The question is, "Can this rusty old clunker become that sweet cruiser?" I don't see it happening. A project car should not be your daily driver, and this is what James isn't seeing. This is going to become a nightmare so fast it's gonna make your head spin.

And I will be here documenting the whole thing. :)

Look at my sweet guys... they have no idea their dreams are going to be squashed by this beast.

"It Lives"? I think not.

By all means, check out "his" post here, but for the hard core truth, stay right here.

You should know that I am, in no way, an overbearing wife. When James decided to start his own business, I supported him 100%. When he started adventure racing, I followed him all over the midwest being his support crew. When he entered the MR340, I followed him along the river cheering him on and refilling water bottles. Hell, when he cut my couch in half to make it fit his plan, I sat back in amazement. BUT ENOUGH IS ENOUGH!

I woke Sunday morning to find this in front of my house. After spending weeks being told that "It won't be as bad as you think", I was shocked to find it was, in fact, worse than I'd imagined. Not only did he have to rent a U-haul to transport this beast, but it wouldn't run long enough to get it off the U-haul and into our driveway. I'd already spent my entire Saturday completely ticked off that this was actually happening, but then he tells me our neighbor, Joe, just drove by and asked him "What the hell is going on here?"


Good question, Joe. This blog will serve as an ongoing tribute to that very question.