The front wall of the garden house, ready to be moved to its permanent place.

August 11, 2019 – Sunday morning

56 degrees/clear skies/cam wind

Pentoga Road

Our internet disappeared a bit ago, so I’ll begin writing and hope it shows up in the near future. One thing about living in the boonies and depending on satellites for communications, you never know when a random alien might come along and hijack the signal. Our house phone, internet, television, and even are cell phone signal, are all received via satellite.

You who have fiber optic cable or normal cell service, appreciate it. I’d trade with you any ol’ time.

I was up way too early this morning. Bedtime didn’t come until well past midnight and I awakened at 4 to heed nature’s call. Except for Sargie's quiet breathing, the room was silent. Too silent. The sound of rushing water through our open bedroom window was missing. The pump that powers the fountain in the pond lay silent.

I hate when my drowsy thoughts take over, leaving no room for common sense. It generally occurs during the very early morning hours and whatever the subject is tends to be blown clear out of proportion. It gets bigger and bigger and always in a negative way.

Here was progression of this early morning’s thoughts in their exact order:

What the heck? The pump’s not working.

Why wouldn’t it be working?

I bet the motor’s fried.

Fried? It’s a magnetic motor. There’s only one working part, the impeller.

Boy, do I have to go to the bathroom.

Darn it. It’s nice and warm here beside Sargie.

Mmm, her hair sure smells good.

What did I do with the pump receipt?

It’s somewhere.

I bet the place where I bought the pump won’t replace it without the sales slip.

Buttholes. A bunch of darn hippies.

Lord, where am I going to get the money for another pump?

This is dumb. The receipt’s filed away.

Whew.

God, I got to go to the bathroom.

Someone probably stole the pump. Probably a druggie, a stupid meth head. Like to get my hands on that idiot. I’d take a ball bat to his knees if I caught him.

God, I don’t want to get up and go to the bathroom. It’s cold out there.

No one’s ever stole anything out here before. Why would they want a pond pump that’s under water?

That’s dumb.

Darn bladder.

Could ‘a been a bear that came to the pond for a drink.

Darn it. I forgot to turn on the electric fence last night.

Darn bear slipped on the rubber liner and slid in. Knocked the pump loose.

It’s sitting at the bottom of the pond in eleven and a half feet of water. 

Wish one of the sons was here. He'd swim down and get it for me. Oh well, nothing wrong with me.

The bear probably tried to crawl out and ripped the heavy rubber liner to shreds with his claws.

Lord Almighty, they are dumb animals.

All appetite and no brains.

Crap.

I’m going to have to drain the pond of 18,000 gallons of water, take out 10,000 lbs of sand and gravel from the filters, and install a new liner.

Wonder if homeowners covers it?

Heck with it, I’m going to fill in the hole and forget the pond. What was I thinking of anyway? Darn bears ruin everything.

I’ll have to call the DNR and report the damage.

Wonder what their number is?

Don’t have a phone book and the government agencies play hide and seek when it comes to contacting them. Do I look under State, Government, or Dept of Natural Resources.

Should be phone books like in the old days.

I remember the phone number from when I was five years old. Mom made me memorize it.

Tremont 4-0474.

Why is it I can remember a number from 65 years ago, but I can't remember what I did last week?

I really got to go.

This is dumb, really dumb. Dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb.

Can’t wait any longer. Got to go to the bathroom.

Sargie sure feels good. Wish I could stay here.

Darn it.

It’ll be light soon. I might as well get up.

In the end, I found that a power surge during the night tripped a breaker on the outside outlet. It took three seconds to reset, but not before losing at least two hours of sleep, cussing the merchant who sold me the pump, the meth head druggies who stole it, and an errant bear that slipped and fell into the pond, ripping the liner trying to get out. Dumb. Dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb.

Saturday began on the lawnmower. Actually, I was going to park the trailer at the rear of the backyard when I noticed there were a few long, patchy, areas that needed cutting. 

Sargie and I went to town to take advantage of a one day sale at our local grocery. After stopping at the drug store to purchase some eye vitamins for me and driving through McDonalds for her Coke, we returned home.

It was time to move the four walls for the garden shed, those that had been constructed last winter in the barn.

It seemed like such a good idea at the time, but what's a good thought during the winter months doesn't always mean it's a great idea in the summer.

Still, with Sargie's help, we managed to slide the walls out to the tractor.

It was a careful balancing act we performed, my Ford 8N and I. 

Since our yard is so uneven and not wanting to upset the apple cart, or make the wall fall off, I opted to drive down the road and reenter our property using the second drive.

The walls are leaning against a nearby tree close to the base, ready to be fastened into place.

It was time to meet Yooper Brother Mark and prepare for the night's demolition derby. Sargie took me to town and returned home as she would later be joining Sheri for the activities. With only one car in town, we could ride home together. 

The afternoon was action-packed. I helped to set up the awning that protected the pit crew from the sun, as well shade the cooking and socializing area.

Jerad, Mark, and Roger
Roger's a close family friend and was a silent member of yesterday's racing team. In fact, Jerad drove Roger's car in the derby.
Just a young guy, Roger owns his own logging truck and drives thousands of miles every week.

Tired and hungry from my pit crew responsibilities, I enjoyed chowing down on three Italian sausages that Mark had grilled on the tailgate of the truck.

It was time to get serious. Brad was first to go in his car. He entered the ring. You could feel the tension in the air.

The boy did okay and made it through the first heat. Only one problem. He lost the rear driver's side wheel along the way. 



He didn't just lose the wheel, he lost the hub, the spring, strut, everything. Something would have to be done quickly for Brad to compete in the mid class finals.



It was Jerad's turn in the compact division. Last year's champion, Jerad had his car ready for action.





Jerad drove onto the track amid the cheers of thousands of fans.



The flag dropped and the action began. It was nip and tuck for the first minute until the axle on Jerad's car broke. Last year's champion could only sit and watch. 



Once the race was over, Jerad's car was pushed back to the pit area with a skid steer. His derby season was over for another year.

The boys and Mark worked feverishly on Brad's car. Since no back tire could be attached, someone came up with the idea that skidding on the hood might work. 

Indeed, the hood was removed, the car jack up a bit, and the hood chained underneath.

Number 85 quickly became the darling of the racetrack.

It was time.

Brad coaxed the car onto the track. Unfortunately, in the end, the little car with only three wheels was no competition for those four-wheeled monsters that continually rammed number 85.

As with Jerad, Brad's derby season was over for the year.

I want to thank the boys for including me in this year's derby. When it comes to auto mechanics, I'm worthless, but it was sure fun taking pictures, talking with the guys, cheering, and of course, eating brats.

Sargie and Sheri cheered from the stands and joined us afterwards. With handshakes, hugs, and farewells, we made a late night drive back to Pentoga Road.

Roger, Brad, and Mark, should become design engineers for NSCAR.

There's lots we'd like to accomplish today, but about the only thing written in stone is that we're going fishing later this afternoon. The Crappie Queen's getting the itch.

If we're lucky, the garden house walls will be fastened into place so I can continue with the roof this coming week. I'm also hoping to get the excess rubber liner cut from around the pond so that the landscaping can begin.

Other than that, we'll bop to town to get Sargie's Coke and enjoy this beautiful day together.

After all, a man's work is never done.

So are the tales from Pentoga Road...