Monday, November 4, 2013

The Breaks on the Truck Died a Sad and Terrible Death.

So awhile ago we were getting firewood and we had unloaded the last load and then I went into the house to take the dog out and then Scott got back into the truck to put it into the upper driveway and then the breaks died and then he had to use a fence post and the woodpile to keep the truck from rolling into the ditch and then he had to ease it onto the lower driveway without sending it over the bank and into the creek.

Which was fun.

And then we had to go to work and then there was more work and then Scott ordered more break lines on the internet and then we flash forward to today to where we happened to be home for like a whole 48 hours and it wasn't snowing outside.

So after doing my morning chores and taking all the pills I need to take now because my stomach is a dick we went out to install the new break lines. So we drug everything we needed all the way down from our sheds to the end of the other driveway and then we got ready and we took the break lines out of the box and then we slid plywood under the truck so we didn't have to lay on the freezing cold gravel and then we girded our respective loins and then I realized that I was starting to feel a little weird. Because new medication and all. “It's okay” I said to myself, “this is like the third day on these fuckers, I'll feel a little weird and then I'll be fine.”

In retrospect, that was the stupidest thing I have ever thought.

But I'm blaming it on the drugs.

So Scott took the old lines off and I handed him tools and listened to him invent new swear words because the bottom of a 85 Chevy from the mountains is like 80% rust and then he sent me up to the shed to get some wrenches. Which of course meant I had to cross one field and our yard and then walk all the way up to the shed. To counter the fuzzy feeling of the meds I just chanted what he wanted me to get so I would not forget and then I got to the shed and opened the drawer of box wrenches and then I just stared at it for awhile trying to figure out what the words I was saying meant and that's when I realized I was high as balls.

As balls here people.


So then I get back with the tools and Scott is all like where is the 17mm wrench and I was all like, um, ah I couldn't find one. And then he was kinda irritated because he had to walk all the way back to the shed but I didn't care because I was chemically unable to give a fuck.

Anyway at this point I usually give a run down of what we are doing but this time I can't do that because I had no idea what was going on. My whole day was a series of disconnected things that happened. And all of them sucked ass.

First off we had brought the pre-bent break lines because we assumed it would be easier to install them. Unfortunately all that did was make it incredibly hard to get the fucking metal tubes through all the other shit in the truck. They kept catching on things like the frame and the whatsadoozit and then we couldn't get the threaded ends to line up with the hub thing that they went to and then they wouldn't thread on because nothing can ever be easy.

So we would take turns laying under the truck trying to get them to thread on and they were all like, ha ha ha no. And then we would switch places and try all sorts of arcane things to bend and shove the break lines into alighting with the break thingamajig until finally I gave up and got out from under the truck and Scott asked me to get something and then I found I could only walk to the left for about five steps and then I almost ended up in the garden.

Because muscle relaxers.

So then Scott pulled some magic trick and got the damn things to thread and then we gave up for the day and then I was thinking about spending my evening sitting in a prescription drug haze and then Scott reveals that all we got done were the front breaks and we hadn't even touched on the back breaks yet and then I thought about doing this all again tomorrow and then I supposed I should have felt depressed but then I didn't really feel anything other then the fact I was loopy as fuck.

And of course this would have been the night we were supposed to go to dinner at grandmas and then I had to pretend that I was totally super not stoned out of my fucking mind even though my pupils were the size of dinner plates.

Which was like, dinner challenge level 5000.

Luckily I think I pulled it off.


Mostly. Sortof. Pretty sure.

Oh god sweet Jesus take me now.

Ahem. I'm fine.

Or well I will be when I take the next dose, that's for damn sure.


  1. In my experience, muscle relaxers are a beautiful thing..

  2. Even without brakes, an 85 Chevy is a pretty cool truck.

    I'm far too lazy to tackle all the brake lines at once. That's impressive! Usually, I'll just replace them as they fail. It stretches the job out over a year or so. :)

  3. I like the labels you used to describe this post. Very accurate! :) Muscle relaxers are my friend, but I usually can only take a half of one or I pass out, kudos for sort of functioning with them! :)

  4. I know I shouldn't be laughing, but, "I didn't care because I was chemically unable to give a fuck" might be the best thing I've read in a really long time.