We've hit the dreaded "Isaiah chapters" in our Sunday School study of the Book of Mormon. Even Church leaders know that most of us, due to intimidation, lack of effort, or whatever reason, get little from this section. It seems they would consider it a victory if we just skipped over these chapters and continued studying what comes next, as opposed to quitting reading altogether. Seriously. Check out the bare bones study guide material for this week's lesson.
Lest you think the curriculum developers are just trying to avoid being repetitious with Old Testament lessons, here's the OT study guide for (most of) the corresponding chapters--not a whole lot more to work with.
And I don't have much to add, either. The very first mass Sunday School email I sent out (and of course those emails have morphed into these BASOTRUSSL blog posts) was back in September of 2010, when the upcoming lesson was the same early-Isaiah scripture block linked to above. This is what I had to say then:
"You know those chapters you always skip when you read The Book of Mormon? Well there's no avoiding them now! This Sunday will be the first of five straight Gospel Doctrine lessons on the book of Isaiah. The curriculum for this week, along with some questions to guide your study, can be found here.
In addition to all the good stuff about temples and the fate of the world in the latter days, this scripture block contains one of my all-time favorite random scriptures, Isa. 3:21. Look that one up, and make time to study all the chapters. Sunday School is much more interesting and meaningful if you've studied in advance and come to class prepared to contribute."
That was it. A simple "rings and nose jewels" reference grew into all kinds of weird scriptural tangents. This post is pretty unremarkable, but hopefully it won't cause you to quit reading. Just like the "Isaiah chapters" will soon be in our rearview mirror, I'll do my best to come up with some more interesting posts in the coming weeks.
Thursday, February 23, 2012
Thursday, February 16, 2012
Friend of a Friend
I practiced a bit of "blogamy" (blog bigamy--copyright Jeff Hofmann 2012) this week. My friend Larissa, who I've mentioned several times on my blog (probably more than you even realize), let me write a guest post on her site.
For Valentine's Day, I wrote about that video that was circulating the Interwebs about two months ago, where Utah St. students were asked if guys and girls can be "just friends." Check it out here, and feel free to comment on either blog.
Thanks Riss!
For Valentine's Day, I wrote about that video that was circulating the Interwebs about two months ago, where Utah St. students were asked if guys and girls can be "just friends." Check it out here, and feel free to comment on either blog.
Thanks Riss!
Tuesday, February 14, 2012
We're living in a powder keg and giving off sparks
Most people think Isaiah's prophecies are mysterious and hard to understand. But this one is pretty clear to me:
Perhaps I'm being unfair--after all, I've never read any of Mr. Sparks' novels. But I hear they're pretty emotionally manipulative and overly formulaic, that he's kind of the male equivalent of Stephenie Meyer.
I am familiar with some of his work, though. I've seen A Walk To Remember on video, and I will admit it exceeded my expectations, but said expectations were extremely low. (I passed on a chance to see it in theaters; it's a funny story, and I wrote about it once. You should check it out.)
Also, I haven't seen The Notebook, but I have lived it. Here's another old post, where I tell of when I found an old notebook in which I'd written a song for a girl, but never shared it with her. That post also includes the lyrics to a Valentine's Day parody I wrote to the tune of Alice Cooper's Feed My Frankenstein. How's that for serendipitous timing?
Once you're done reading my old work, since you won't be wasting time with Nicholas Sparks, go ahead and fire up the Kindle and read more teachings from Isaiah (and Nephi, and Jacob) to prepare for this week's Sunday School lesson.
Happy Valentine's Day!
Behold all ye that kindle fire, that compass yourselves about with sparks, walk in the light of your fire and in the sparks which ye have kindled. This shall ye have of mine hand--ye shall lie down in sorrow.It couldn't be more obvious. The prophet saw our day, when millions of people would be using their Kindle Fires to download Nicholas Sparks books, ultimately going to bed full of sorrow for having wasted so much time reading Dear John or The Last Song.
Perhaps I'm being unfair--after all, I've never read any of Mr. Sparks' novels. But I hear they're pretty emotionally manipulative and overly formulaic, that he's kind of the male equivalent of Stephenie Meyer.
I am familiar with some of his work, though. I've seen A Walk To Remember on video, and I will admit it exceeded my expectations, but said expectations were extremely low. (I passed on a chance to see it in theaters; it's a funny story, and I wrote about it once. You should check it out.)
Also, I haven't seen The Notebook, but I have lived it. Here's another old post, where I tell of when I found an old notebook in which I'd written a song for a girl, but never shared it with her. That post also includes the lyrics to a Valentine's Day parody I wrote to the tune of Alice Cooper's Feed My Frankenstein. How's that for serendipitous timing?
Once you're done reading my old work, since you won't be wasting time with Nicholas Sparks, go ahead and fire up the Kindle and read more teachings from Isaiah (and Nephi, and Jacob) to prepare for this week's Sunday School lesson.
Happy Valentine's Day!
Friday, February 10, 2012
Soul food
[Here's this week's BASOTRUSSL! If you don't know what that is, check out the beginning of this post.]
Have you ever considered that the prophet-historians who kept the records that became the Book of Mormon were basically bloggers, more or less? They were chronicling the important events of their lives, adding their commentary, often getting very personal, but hoping their work would be read and shared by as wide an audience as possible.
The reading assignment for this week's Sunday School lesson inlcudes what is known as "the psalm of Nephi," which Nephi begins by saying "upon these [plates] I write the things of my soul" (2 Ne. 4:15). I'm a very different "blogger" than Nephi, either in style or substance--I either don't spend much time on the things of my soul, or I really don't have much of a soul to share. The jury's still out on that one.
Here's what I do have to share this week after reading the assigned chapters: first of all, the one word that stood out to me above all others is "loins." It's used over and over in 2 Nephi 3. It's kind of a funny word. Here's a sort of funny stand-up bit about the scriptural use of loins.
Chapter 3 also refers extensively to Joseph, of Old Testament fame, the one who was sold into Egypt. Whenever he is mentioned, I invariably think of the Technicolor Dreamcoat musical, my second-favorite musical of all time (behind only Little Shop of Horrors, just ahead of Newsies). I had never seen it until a few months before returning from my mission. In my last area, an old lady named Sister Rattray had us over for breakfast every Saturday morning. For some reason, she never stayed in the room to talk to us, but she would've been devastated if we stopped coming. So we watched Dreamcoat almost every week, and I fell in love. I had the entire show memorized by the time I returned to the States. I also had developed a crush on the narrator, Maria Friedman.
Adorable, right? I know she's 20 years older than me, but I don't care. It looks like that particular uploader has the entire production on YouTube, with a separate video for each song. If you haven't seen it before (or just haven't watched it in years), you should give it a try. Here's another fun one, which had the added bonus of beginning with the new T-Mobile ad featuring Kirby Heyborne as Cupid. I suppose it might play a different ad when you play it, so in case you don't see it, know that Mr. RM himself had nothing on but--you guessed it--a sheet girded about his "loins."
Since I would like to blog more like Nephi, I'll end with a serious one. Prophecies about Joseph Smith also abound in 2 Nephi 3. There's a great subsection of lds.org devoted to the Prophet, starting with his foreordination to restore the church and also covering his teachings, his character, his trials, his family, and much more. Check it out.
Have you ever considered that the prophet-historians who kept the records that became the Book of Mormon were basically bloggers, more or less? They were chronicling the important events of their lives, adding their commentary, often getting very personal, but hoping their work would be read and shared by as wide an audience as possible.
The reading assignment for this week's Sunday School lesson inlcudes what is known as "the psalm of Nephi," which Nephi begins by saying "upon these [plates] I write the things of my soul" (2 Ne. 4:15). I'm a very different "blogger" than Nephi, either in style or substance--I either don't spend much time on the things of my soul, or I really don't have much of a soul to share. The jury's still out on that one.
Here's what I do have to share this week after reading the assigned chapters: first of all, the one word that stood out to me above all others is "loins." It's used over and over in 2 Nephi 3. It's kind of a funny word. Here's a sort of funny stand-up bit about the scriptural use of loins.
Chapter 3 also refers extensively to Joseph, of Old Testament fame, the one who was sold into Egypt. Whenever he is mentioned, I invariably think of the Technicolor Dreamcoat musical, my second-favorite musical of all time (behind only Little Shop of Horrors, just ahead of Newsies). I had never seen it until a few months before returning from my mission. In my last area, an old lady named Sister Rattray had us over for breakfast every Saturday morning. For some reason, she never stayed in the room to talk to us, but she would've been devastated if we stopped coming. So we watched Dreamcoat almost every week, and I fell in love. I had the entire show memorized by the time I returned to the States. I also had developed a crush on the narrator, Maria Friedman.
Adorable, right? I know she's 20 years older than me, but I don't care. It looks like that particular uploader has the entire production on YouTube, with a separate video for each song. If you haven't seen it before (or just haven't watched it in years), you should give it a try. Here's another fun one, which had the added bonus of beginning with the new T-Mobile ad featuring Kirby Heyborne as Cupid. I suppose it might play a different ad when you play it, so in case you don't see it, know that Mr. RM himself had nothing on but--you guessed it--a sheet girded about his "loins."
Since I would like to blog more like Nephi, I'll end with a serious one. Prophecies about Joseph Smith also abound in 2 Nephi 3. There's a great subsection of lds.org devoted to the Prophet, starting with his foreordination to restore the church and also covering his teachings, his character, his trials, his family, and much more. Check it out.
Thursday, February 9, 2012
The Car Talk Saga: Mitsubishi Eclipse
[Here's the final installment in my trilogy of posts, detailing my history as a car owner. If you missed the first two you can read part 1 here, part 2 here, or just click through to the next posts.]
Ok, I didn't actually get an Eclipse. But that name seemed fitting for the third item in this series, narrowly edging out "Car Talk With a Vengeance."
What I did get (as you may have inferred from the video above) is a Cadillac! And yes, I do think I'm a big shot now that I can tool around town in a Caddy. It seemed fitting to upgrade from one old man car to a nicer old man car. It's definitely more fun and quirky to tell people I got a Cadillac as opposed to a Civic or Camry or Cavalier or any other C car.
Actually, the model I bought (a Catera--so many cars start with C) was Cadillac's attempt to overcome the stereotype that only old people drive their cars, calling it "the Caddy that zigs." It didn't really work, but at least they made the effort: check out this commercial, complete with Ziggy, a cartoon duck mascot:
That end bit--"Lease a Catera...who is Lisa Catera?" actually spawned a TV character. Seriously. You may have noticed supermodels like Adriana Lima hocking cars during the Super Bowl this week. That's certainly nothing new--Cindy Crawford costarred with Ziggy in Catera's SB spot in 1997.
If you're not tired of Catera commercials yet, check out this one where they use Lisa's less successful cousin Baia Catera. Did you see that? Starting at $30,000?! Crazy! I paid considerably less than that. Like 1/6th of that amount. My Caddy is a '98, too, but has less than 50,000 miles on it. The previous owner was an elderly couple (shocker!) who rarely drove it and kept it in a garage every night. It's in very good condition.
Plus, it's fancy! Power everything, CD player, cooler sunroof than my Buick, separate temperature controls for driver and passenger sides, heated seats, AND I just noticed last night that there are slots to hold coins in the front door. Jealous?
Apparently, the Catera was kind of a flop for Cadillac, and not just because of the duck. It apparently has a history of reliability and performance issues. But I felt good about it while test driving it, the super deal I got on it even included a 90-day limited warranty, and if past history is any indication, if something goes wrong, it may end up benefiting me financially. I'm very pleased with my new old man car. Who wants to go for a ride?
Wednesday, February 8, 2012
Car Talk 2: Electric Boogaloo
[Here's the second installment of my car ownership history. For Part 1, go here. Or just click through to the next post.]
So I ditched my Taurus and moved to New York. I was there for another year until I ran out of money and moved in with my parents for a while. I got a job and by March 2010 had saved up enough to move out on my own again, but that meant I would need a car--and fast.
The bishop of my parents' ward likes to buy old cars and fix them up. I knew he was trustworthy and would probably give me a good deal, so I gave him a call. The only car he had in working condition was a 1995 Buick Park Avenue (that's right, another make and model from the "least stolen" list I linked to in the last post). I test drove it, and, knowing I couldn't possibly get better financing terms from any dealer or bank, bought it the same day.
In case you're not familiar, Buicks have a reputation as cars that are driven by, well, old geezers. And that's the first thing most people said when they saw my Park Avenue: "That's a grandma car." (Some were at least nice enough to say "grandpa.") But I didn't care. It was still the nicest car I had ever owned.
It was also the biggest. The Park Avenue is a full-size, a big boat of a car. I wasn't used to it at first, and scraped the door backing out of my covered parking spot less than a week after moving out of my parents' house and into the apartment I live in now.
My favorite features of my pimped-out ride: the hydraulic trunk that closed mostly on its own, and the ghost that adjusted the radio volume. (The control was a manual, non-digital knob, but there were also steering wheel controls--so when you used them you could see the volume knob turning. It was awesome.)
I drove it basically incident-free for the first year, with my most serious complaint being its poor gas mileage. But it failed the safety test when I tried to get the registration renewed. For various reasons, I didn't have the cash for any kind of significant repair, so I actually drove around for almost six months with expired plates. By "drove around," I mean occasionally drove to the grocery store or to church--just like a typical Buick driver. Since I work from home, I have less driving needs than most, and that combined with my trepidation about even medium-length trips as the car started to break down resulted in me putting less than 8000 miles on the Park Avenue in the 20-ish months I owned it.
I was awakened early one morning last fall by my downstairs neighbor pounding on our door. They had witnessed a huge RC Willey furniture truck misjudge its girth while turning around in our parking lot and clip my bumper, lifting my car a foot or so off the ground and dropping it back down (that's what I was told, I didn't see any of it). The truck left the scene, which was weird, but they were probably following company protocol, because they came back with a manager while I was out looking at it. Police reports were filed, estimates procured, and yadda yadda yadda, I suddenly had enough money to fix my brakes and get registered, though this incident was not as lucrative for me as the ones detailed in part 1.
In November, though, it began to be a struggle to get my car to start, and there was clearly a problem with the radiator--I'd add two gallons of coolant, and three days later the Buick would come close to overheating after driving just three or four miles. Then one day it wouldn't start at all, but my neighbor happened to be outside at that time and gave me a jump. The next day I drove to Mimi's Cafe for my work Christmas party, and upon leaving it again wouldn't start--and this time the jump didn't help. I went back the next day and tried again, but still no luck.
A few days later I went back with my dad to try jumping it one more time. I had already talked to the Mimi's manager, and she told me she would have it towed if it wasn't gone by noon that day. The Park Avenue still would not respond. While I stood there trying to figure out what to do--pay to have it towed back to my apartment? Pay to have it towed to a repair shop, even though I couldn't afford to have it fixed and probably wouldn't want to put that kind of money into the old clunker--one of my former Scout leaders walked out of Mimi's, having just finished breakfast with one of his employees from his roofing company.
They came over to see what was wrong, and quickly offered their truck and tow rope to help us out. They got the Buick to a repair shop in the lot next to their office, which happened to be run by the son of a couple my parents know! He checked my car out, and let me know that I would need a new engine in addition to the radiator and whatever else was wrong with it. He refused to take any money for inspecting the car or keeping it at his place for a few days.
The shop of the guy I bought my Buick from is literally next door to the one I got towed to. He had replaced the transmission and a few other parts not long before selling it to me, so he offered to take it back, and will wait until he finds a replacement engine or something, and that Park Avenue may eventually go another 50,000 miles.He even gave me $250 for it!
So, if you overlook the part where my car died and I was left without transportation for six weeks (following on the heels of six weeks of very unreliable transportation), things really couldn't have worked out any better for me. Any time I have major car problems, it seems like there's always some pretty significant silver linings.
Now all that's left is to tell you about my new car! Come back soon for the final installment of the trilogy!
So I ditched my Taurus and moved to New York. I was there for another year until I ran out of money and moved in with my parents for a while. I got a job and by March 2010 had saved up enough to move out on my own again, but that meant I would need a car--and fast.
The bishop of my parents' ward likes to buy old cars and fix them up. I knew he was trustworthy and would probably give me a good deal, so I gave him a call. The only car he had in working condition was a 1995 Buick Park Avenue (that's right, another make and model from the "least stolen" list I linked to in the last post). I test drove it, and, knowing I couldn't possibly get better financing terms from any dealer or bank, bought it the same day.
In case you're not familiar, Buicks have a reputation as cars that are driven by, well, old geezers. And that's the first thing most people said when they saw my Park Avenue: "That's a grandma car." (Some were at least nice enough to say "grandpa.") But I didn't care. It was still the nicest car I had ever owned.
It was also the biggest. The Park Avenue is a full-size, a big boat of a car. I wasn't used to it at first, and scraped the door backing out of my covered parking spot less than a week after moving out of my parents' house and into the apartment I live in now.
My favorite features of my pimped-out ride: the hydraulic trunk that closed mostly on its own, and the ghost that adjusted the radio volume. (The control was a manual, non-digital knob, but there were also steering wheel controls--so when you used them you could see the volume knob turning. It was awesome.)
I drove it basically incident-free for the first year, with my most serious complaint being its poor gas mileage. But it failed the safety test when I tried to get the registration renewed. For various reasons, I didn't have the cash for any kind of significant repair, so I actually drove around for almost six months with expired plates. By "drove around," I mean occasionally drove to the grocery store or to church--just like a typical Buick driver. Since I work from home, I have less driving needs than most, and that combined with my trepidation about even medium-length trips as the car started to break down resulted in me putting less than 8000 miles on the Park Avenue in the 20-ish months I owned it.
I was awakened early one morning last fall by my downstairs neighbor pounding on our door. They had witnessed a huge RC Willey furniture truck misjudge its girth while turning around in our parking lot and clip my bumper, lifting my car a foot or so off the ground and dropping it back down (that's what I was told, I didn't see any of it). The truck left the scene, which was weird, but they were probably following company protocol, because they came back with a manager while I was out looking at it. Police reports were filed, estimates procured, and yadda yadda yadda, I suddenly had enough money to fix my brakes and get registered, though this incident was not as lucrative for me as the ones detailed in part 1.
In November, though, it began to be a struggle to get my car to start, and there was clearly a problem with the radiator--I'd add two gallons of coolant, and three days later the Buick would come close to overheating after driving just three or four miles. Then one day it wouldn't start at all, but my neighbor happened to be outside at that time and gave me a jump. The next day I drove to Mimi's Cafe for my work Christmas party, and upon leaving it again wouldn't start--and this time the jump didn't help. I went back the next day and tried again, but still no luck.
A few days later I went back with my dad to try jumping it one more time. I had already talked to the Mimi's manager, and she told me she would have it towed if it wasn't gone by noon that day. The Park Avenue still would not respond. While I stood there trying to figure out what to do--pay to have it towed back to my apartment? Pay to have it towed to a repair shop, even though I couldn't afford to have it fixed and probably wouldn't want to put that kind of money into the old clunker--one of my former Scout leaders walked out of Mimi's, having just finished breakfast with one of his employees from his roofing company.
They came over to see what was wrong, and quickly offered their truck and tow rope to help us out. They got the Buick to a repair shop in the lot next to their office, which happened to be run by the son of a couple my parents know! He checked my car out, and let me know that I would need a new engine in addition to the radiator and whatever else was wrong with it. He refused to take any money for inspecting the car or keeping it at his place for a few days.
The shop of the guy I bought my Buick from is literally next door to the one I got towed to. He had replaced the transmission and a few other parts not long before selling it to me, so he offered to take it back, and will wait until he finds a replacement engine or something, and that Park Avenue may eventually go another 50,000 miles.He even gave me $250 for it!
So, if you overlook the part where my car died and I was left without transportation for six weeks (following on the heels of six weeks of very unreliable transportation), things really couldn't have worked out any better for me. Any time I have major car problems, it seems like there's always some pretty significant silver linings.
Now all that's left is to tell you about my new car! Come back soon for the final installment of the trilogy!
Tuesday, February 7, 2012
Car Talk
I bought a new (used) car last week! It's the 4th car I've owned in my life, and definitely the nicest one. I'll give the details on my new toy in a bit, but first I thought it would be fun to chronicle my automobile history. To start off, a brief timeline:
April 2004: I turn 24 years old, and a few days later I graduate from BYU.
May 2004: I get my first cell phone.
June 2004: I buy my first car.
That's right--I made it all the way through college without a cell phone, and all the way through high school and college (more than 8 years after getting my license) without my own car. It's obviously possible to do this, but I wouldn't recommend it.
Tired of riding the bus to my job on Marie Osmond's radio show (I was no longer eligible for a student pass, and I still had to walk 12 blocks from the bus stop anyway), I set out to find a car I could afford on my meager budget. I stopped by the ad board in the Wilkinson Center on BYU campus, and almost immediately saw a posting for a car I knew was destined for me.
Some guy was selling a 1993 Ford Tempo for $1000, and he only lived a block away from me. I drove my mom's '91 Tempo all the time in high school, so I knew those cars better than any other make and model. I snatched it up quickly, and for the first time in my life I was a car owner!
Less than two weeks after buying it, while driving to the aforementioned radio job, I was rearended, and my car was knocked into the back of the Jeep in front of me. The double impact left my "new" Tempo with the rear bumper detached and hanging down on one side, and my hood tented. Amazingly, it started up right away and drove normally. Not surprisingly, though, it was totaled for insurance purposes, and I got a check for about $950--meaning that my car had basically paid for itself.
My neighbor/good friend David also drove an old Tempo, a family heirloom that he and three other siblings passed from one to another. We always thought it was hilarious when they ended up next to each other in the parking lot. The two of us had a years-long email chain going with several other friends, and once I was so amused by the twin Tempos that I actually wrote the following, way back on July 26, 2004:
I was without a car again for almost two months before taking a trip to a big used car dealer to look at a car I had seen online. That car had been sold, but I test drove a similar one, and soon was driving away the "proud" owner of a '97 Ford Taurus.
(Quick aside: I mostly love the Internet, but it's frustrating when you can't find a video you really want to use on your blog. There's a comedian who, in his Comedy Central stand-up special, joked about wanting to move up from a Tempo to a Taurus, but that segment isn't online. Inexplicably, a full transcript is online (check out 11:17-11:57), but no video. Here's a clip from another performance where he's doing the same material, but there's a clear edit at 1:52--right where that joke would've been, if you compare it to the transcript. Curse you, Internet!)
It wasn't a great car. (Even car thieves think so. Check out this list--and note #4, because we'll be getting to that later.) A month or so after I bought it, I tried driving up to Boise to do an improv show. I pulled off the road in Tremonton with smoke billowing out of the exhaust, and a puddle of transmission fluid forming beneath the car. It turned out to be a relatively minor problem, but we weren't off to a great start.
I gave my Taurus a name a year after I bought it. I took it in to renew the registration, and since I had made some repairs just a few weeks earlier, it passed all the inspections and no additional repairs were recommended--the only time that's ever happened to me. As I started it up to drive away from Jiffy Lube, "Happy to be Stuck With You" came on the radio. It seemed fitting--if I could afford a better car, I would've got one--and from that point my Taurus was known as Huey.
About two and a half years after buying Huey, I got a work assignment that would require me to move to New York for a few months. I was planning on just leaving my car parked in front of the Provo duplex I lived in at the time. But a few days before I left, I was home teaching, and at the end of the visit we asked the standard "is there anything we can do for you" question. One girl asked if we knew how to fix cars. I told her no, but that I had a car I wouldn't need for a few months that she could use. She was surprised that I was sincere, and I was probably equally surprised that she accepted. (See, we home teachers DO mean it when we ask that question!)
I remember well getting a call from the girl a few months later, while at a Valentine's Day party in NYC. She told me she had been in an accident. She was kind of freaked out that she had wrecked my car, but fortunately nobody was hurt. I had already been leaning towards moving to New York permanently, and I took this as a sign that I should. A few days later she called me with more information: the other driver was at fault, my car was still drivable (only body damage) but was totaled for insurance purposes. My friend knew someone that did the repair for a great price, apparently, because I ended up profiting over $3000 when all was said and done. I didn't have to do anything besides sign a form and cash the check.
I returned to Provo that spring long enough to settle up my affairs, pack my things and move back to New York. A guy in my ward liked to offer people $500 for their junker cars, figuring he'd lose his money on some but get good value on others. I sold him my car, and moved back to New York. Later I found out Huey lasted him about six months. The money from the insurance and sale of my Taurus was a big part of why I was able to stay in New York as long as I did without having steady employment.
This is already pretty long, so I'll cover cars 3 and 4 in my next post. Stay tuned!
April 2004: I turn 24 years old, and a few days later I graduate from BYU.
May 2004: I get my first cell phone.
June 2004: I buy my first car.
That's right--I made it all the way through college without a cell phone, and all the way through high school and college (more than 8 years after getting my license) without my own car. It's obviously possible to do this, but I wouldn't recommend it.
Tired of riding the bus to my job on Marie Osmond's radio show (I was no longer eligible for a student pass, and I still had to walk 12 blocks from the bus stop anyway), I set out to find a car I could afford on my meager budget. I stopped by the ad board in the Wilkinson Center on BYU campus, and almost immediately saw a posting for a car I knew was destined for me.
Some guy was selling a 1993 Ford Tempo for $1000, and he only lived a block away from me. I drove my mom's '91 Tempo all the time in high school, so I knew those cars better than any other make and model. I snatched it up quickly, and for the first time in my life I was a car owner!
Less than two weeks after buying it, while driving to the aforementioned radio job, I was rearended, and my car was knocked into the back of the Jeep in front of me. The double impact left my "new" Tempo with the rear bumper detached and hanging down on one side, and my hood tented. Amazingly, it started up right away and drove normally. Not surprisingly, though, it was totaled for insurance purposes, and I got a check for about $950--meaning that my car had basically paid for itself.
My neighbor/good friend David also drove an old Tempo, a family heirloom that he and three other siblings passed from one to another. We always thought it was hilarious when they ended up next to each other in the parking lot. The two of us had a years-long email chain going with several other friends, and once I was so amused by the twin Tempos that I actually wrote the following, way back on July 26, 2004:
For a few hours our Ford Tempos were parked next to each other. On my way to work, my car went into detail about the wonderful evening they spent together--warning lights coming on at inappropriate times, rear bumpers falling off, fluids leaking, and all that good stuff. (I have no idea what this last part means, but I think there's a lot more innuendo in there than I intended. Sorry.)I'm clearly very mature. Anyway...the hood would've had to be removed to be repaired, and I wasn't about to shell out hundreds of dollars to fix this clunker, so I planned to drive it until the registration expired and then get rid of it. It died about one month short of that goal, though, perhaps because when you don't open your car's hood for 11 months that means you can't change the oil or check any other fluids during that time. I sold it for about 50 bucks to a junkyard.
I was without a car again for almost two months before taking a trip to a big used car dealer to look at a car I had seen online. That car had been sold, but I test drove a similar one, and soon was driving away the "proud" owner of a '97 Ford Taurus.
(Quick aside: I mostly love the Internet, but it's frustrating when you can't find a video you really want to use on your blog. There's a comedian who, in his Comedy Central stand-up special, joked about wanting to move up from a Tempo to a Taurus, but that segment isn't online. Inexplicably, a full transcript is online (check out 11:17-11:57), but no video. Here's a clip from another performance where he's doing the same material, but there's a clear edit at 1:52--right where that joke would've been, if you compare it to the transcript. Curse you, Internet!)
It wasn't a great car. (Even car thieves think so. Check out this list--and note #4, because we'll be getting to that later.) A month or so after I bought it, I tried driving up to Boise to do an improv show. I pulled off the road in Tremonton with smoke billowing out of the exhaust, and a puddle of transmission fluid forming beneath the car. It turned out to be a relatively minor problem, but we weren't off to a great start.
I gave my Taurus a name a year after I bought it. I took it in to renew the registration, and since I had made some repairs just a few weeks earlier, it passed all the inspections and no additional repairs were recommended--the only time that's ever happened to me. As I started it up to drive away from Jiffy Lube, "Happy to be Stuck With You" came on the radio. It seemed fitting--if I could afford a better car, I would've got one--and from that point my Taurus was known as Huey.
About two and a half years after buying Huey, I got a work assignment that would require me to move to New York for a few months. I was planning on just leaving my car parked in front of the Provo duplex I lived in at the time. But a few days before I left, I was home teaching, and at the end of the visit we asked the standard "is there anything we can do for you" question. One girl asked if we knew how to fix cars. I told her no, but that I had a car I wouldn't need for a few months that she could use. She was surprised that I was sincere, and I was probably equally surprised that she accepted. (See, we home teachers DO mean it when we ask that question!)
I remember well getting a call from the girl a few months later, while at a Valentine's Day party in NYC. She told me she had been in an accident. She was kind of freaked out that she had wrecked my car, but fortunately nobody was hurt. I had already been leaning towards moving to New York permanently, and I took this as a sign that I should. A few days later she called me with more information: the other driver was at fault, my car was still drivable (only body damage) but was totaled for insurance purposes. My friend knew someone that did the repair for a great price, apparently, because I ended up profiting over $3000 when all was said and done. I didn't have to do anything besides sign a form and cash the check.
I returned to Provo that spring long enough to settle up my affairs, pack my things and move back to New York. A guy in my ward liked to offer people $500 for their junker cars, figuring he'd lose his money on some but get good value on others. I sold him my car, and moved back to New York. Later I found out Huey lasted him about six months. The money from the insurance and sale of my Taurus was a big part of why I was able to stay in New York as long as I did without having steady employment.
This is already pretty long, so I'll cover cars 3 and 4 in my next post. Stay tuned!
Saturday, February 4, 2012
Bing!
[Here's this week's BASOTRUSSL! If you don't know what that is, check out the beginning of this post. The following is adapted from an email I sent to my ward about a year ago while serving as Sunday School president.]
Hope you all had a good Groundhog Day! Like many of you, I LOVE the movie inspired by that weird pseudo-holiday. I watch it every February 2.
Four years ago the film clicked with me in a new way, as I watched it immediately after returning home from President Hinckley's funeral (can you believe it's already been four years? crazy!). I found the juxtaposition fascinating: one real man, who kind of seemed like he would never die, but we all recognized his mortality, who filled every second of his life with good works and service to others; and one fictional man, who has all the time in the world, and the potential to do so much, but squanders that gift--at least at first.
Like Phil Connors, we are infinite beings who nevertheless must operate under finite conditions to accomplish the work that is set out for us to do. President Wight gave us ten great tips to help with this at ward conference, including several that are relevant here: reading the scriptures, studying the words of living prophets (or recently living ones like Pres. Hinckley), and of course, the #6 item on the list (take that FHE!), preparing for the upcoming Sunday School lesson! Here's the study guide link.
This lesson is all about the opposition, choice, and accountability, especially as exemplified by Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden. Though they lived thousands of years apart, Adam and modern prophets like Pres. Hinckley and Pres. Monson achieved their high standing and position before God only after decades of developing the ability to choose good over evil. This is yet another evidence that like February 2 in Punxsutawney, God is the same yesterday, today and forever. Am I right or am I right or am I right? Am I right? Right...
Hope you all had a good Groundhog Day! Like many of you, I LOVE the movie inspired by that weird pseudo-holiday. I watch it every February 2.
Four years ago the film clicked with me in a new way, as I watched it immediately after returning home from President Hinckley's funeral (can you believe it's already been four years? crazy!). I found the juxtaposition fascinating: one real man, who kind of seemed like he would never die, but we all recognized his mortality, who filled every second of his life with good works and service to others; and one fictional man, who has all the time in the world, and the potential to do so much, but squanders that gift--at least at first.
Like Phil Connors, we are infinite beings who nevertheless must operate under finite conditions to accomplish the work that is set out for us to do. President Wight gave us ten great tips to help with this at ward conference, including several that are relevant here: reading the scriptures, studying the words of living prophets (or recently living ones like Pres. Hinckley), and of course, the #6 item on the list (take that FHE!), preparing for the upcoming Sunday School lesson! Here's the study guide link.
This lesson is all about the opposition, choice, and accountability, especially as exemplified by Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden. Though they lived thousands of years apart, Adam and modern prophets like Pres. Hinckley and Pres. Monson achieved their high standing and position before God only after decades of developing the ability to choose good over evil. This is yet another evidence that like February 2 in Punxsutawney, God is the same yesterday, today and forever. Am I right or am I right or am I right? Am I right? Right...
Wednesday, February 1, 2012
Hoffmann of the Month: February
The "Hoffmann of the Month" for February is animal trainer Bill Hoffman!
I know it's Black History Month, and I've selected another white guy here, but, well, there aren't a lot of black people named Hoffman, or Hofmann, or Hoffmann. In fact, there might not be any. If anyone can tip me off to some, I'll gladly consider them for this prestigious award in future months.
Besides, this is still a timely choice. Mr. Hoffman only has one credit on his IMDb resume, but as Ned Ryerson would say, it's a doozy--Bill was the animal trainer for Groundhog Day! As this article attests, without Hoffman we might not have had this amazing scene:
Almost two decades later, Bill Hoffman is still using his animal expertise to bring joy to the masses. Hire him, and you could end up with your own Kristen Bell sloth moment. I wouldn't mind one bit if someone hired the snake charmer (from the Strolling Entertainment section) for my next birthday!
Congratulations Bill! I'll be thinking of you, however briefly, when I watch Phils Connors and Punxsutawney tomorrow.
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