No doubt by now you are probably sick of hearing about this oil spill debacle and its affect on the Gulf of Mexico, the wildlife that inhabit it, those that make their living connected to it such as fisherman, and those who live along the coastline. Unfortunately you will now have to suffer through my gripes as well ... as I try to come to grips with how this debacle started in the first place, and how poorly it has been handled since then. As we enter hurricane season it is only getting more difficult to clean up [what is now being considered] the worst spill in U.S. history. Gas prices are now on the rise, unpolluted fresh local fish is on the decline, and some of my favorite beaches here in Florida may soon be off-limits. With the Phillies in the crapper, this has me hanging by a very thin thread. If by some bizarre turn of events the National Hockey League is shut down, I will go rogue like my new hero Gary Brooks Faulkner.
For those who didn't hear his story, Faulkner is a 50-year-old Colorado man with a fatal kidney disease who chose to hunt Osama bin Laden as his last hurrah. Faulkner was picked up crossing the Afghanistan/Pakistan border armed with a pistol, 40-inch sword, night vision equipment, and one sweet beard. Though he had no military or combat training, just experience in Hapkido (a Korean martial art), Faulkner was now making his seventh trip to Afghanistan since 2002 in search of the infamous terrorist and was combing an area rumored to be bin Laden's hiding place near the border. His brother, Dr. Scott Faulkner, was very certain that Gary was not in fact crazy, but just very passionate and bold in his endeavor. This sounds like the perfect inscription for a tombstone (hopefully mine)-"Not crazy, just passionate."
I guess there is a thin line between being passionate and insane. However, our passions can most definitely make us crazy. For example, take this ridiculous car hobby of ours. Since day one, my LT1 Formula has fought me. As I mentioned in my last editorial, I have finally sought to make life easier on myself. Unfortunately before I could find the utopia I seek, I would have a few more mountains to climb. An improperly machined crank hub caused one mysterious issue, followed by several poor quality remanufactured alternators from a local parts store that had me stranded on the side of the road twice. This was especially disheartening the first time, as I happened to be in the car with my girlfriend, to whom I have been trying to justify all the late nights in the shop. Thankfully she took it in stride, and the new battery I got from Optima was able to hold a charge well enough to get back to my house (thanks for the jump, Jacknife!). But, quite honestly, for a while I felt defeated. However, it is times like these that I am glad I enlisted the help of a skilled professional like Greg Lovell at AntiVenom instead of some putz that will tell me to throw golf balls at it. For every problem there is a sensible and logical solution. Hopefully one will be found soon for this oil spill.