Oy. Plumbing.

Yesterday was a lost day. I slept in a parking lot. ... I was in the wife's car at the time. I must remember to ask her to get a Queen bed sized car next time; it was a little cramped. :-)

Still, it beat snoring against a stanchion; something I've done a few times. Feel a bit tired, park bike, find a spot and gently doze off. Okay, the "gently" bit might be a lie. Snore like an approaching thunderstorm, perhaps. Perhaps... :-)

Today, today, we have no gas. As I reminiscence with not a lot of fondness of the two times I've run out of gas. In the last 4 years. Twenty years ago I seemed to make a habit of it. Both, more recent, times were on my Royal Enfield. That bike gets such phenomenal mileage that it's actually quite easy to forget to fill it. At least that's what I tell myself.

How about 100MPG? I can actually get that on my Royal Enfield. If I feather the throttle, stick to the "no inclines" routes and generally stay below the speed limit (not too hard on a Royal Enfield...), I have accomplished the amazing 100MPG mark. I know because it was 400 -plus - plus! - miles between fill-ups. I was on the reserve by the time I ambled into a gas station. And then there was South Dakota. But I don't like to dwell on that.

Stupid ethanol petrol.

It's supposed to better. It isn't.

It's the future, I'm told. And like all futures that are foretold, it's not where I want to be.

I want to ride my slugger along pretty country roads, sunlight sprinkled here and there, warm temperatures, lots of curves, cute places to have a coffee or a lunch, appearing at the right moments, dramatic rainbows from storms I didn't get wet (caught) in and no rabbits or deer or turkeys dashing across the road at the worst possible moment. Oh, nice smooth road surfaces would be nice, too. :-)

And no industrial buildings. Or trucks. Or idiots in cars.

Apart from the "idiots in cars" bit (and the bit about wildlife), I could be describing Route 1, in California.

I am describing Route 1 in California. :-)

Ah. Route 1.

So much better to think about than the fact that I disconnected the gas and just about disconnected the main feed into the house. Oops.

I disconnected everything, which took at least an hour for the few connections that existed. Some of them posed their own special challenges. If you catch my drift... And was left with a ¾"pipe sticking through the wall, with lots of T's and other paraphernalia screwed onto it. I foolishly attempted to remove the paraphernalia. It unwound quite easily - a little too easily. I'm thinking "there's something wrong with this..." So I popped outside, and observed that the main feed, which is visible, was just about unscrewed.

Oops, indeed. I put some goop onto it, and screwed it back together. And set about getting the bit I want off, off. Eventually it wielded to a hammer, a couple of large wrenches and a heck of a lot of cursing. By which time the Mrs had gotten home and declared that she wanted to eat out. Considering that she knew we didn't have any gas to cook with, a bare freezer because she's reducing what we have in there, and not much else around, this was not a difficult decision. I had a bacon cheeseburger and a pint of Sam Adams at Ruby Tuesday. The Mrs had a turkey and avocado burger at the same place. :-) Same table, too.

I then did my Moses bit. Hunting for some arcane bit of gas heater supply systems, I discovered that no one sold it anymore. I need to join two 3" pipes together. How hard could that be? Impossible, as it happens. I bought some 4" connectors and I'll simply cut an inch and a bit out of them. Of course, I'll have to: remember my High School/Comprehensive School mathematics, look it up on Google, find that book of basic mathematics I own that was published at the turn of the last century or take a guess.

Take a guess which method I will employ.

I'll let you know how well I guess.

Carolyn Ann