Life used to be so simple. Now it isn't. For instance, when I was a kid, and you wanted a Coke, you went to the store and you bought a Coke. There was no Diet Coke, no Coke Zero, no Cherry Coke, no Cherry Coke Zero, etc., etc. And Coke came in a proper glass bottle, as mandated from the beginning of the universe.
So it was with car keys. You own a Chevy? You get a Chevy key, and there was just one kind.
But not no more.
A couple months ago I took my car to the local car wash. They ran it through, and when they had dried it they called me out with a big smile, and said good bye. Gave the guy a tip! All well and good, except when I went to start the car I realized someone had broken the plastic head off the key, the plastic part with the remote door and trunk buttons on it. It was just dangling there.
Me: "Hey, my key is broken. You guys broke my key".
Car wash guy: "No, it was already broken"
Me: "No, you broke it. Where's the manager?"
Guy: "Who?"
Well, I finally corralled the manager and then this:
Me: "Your guys broke my key."
Him: "No they didn't."
Me: "OK then why didn't they tell me it was broken when they got in to run the car through the wash?"
Him: "It's a bad design. They break easily."
Me: "It's a good design, your guys broke it."
Him: "I think you can glue it."
Me: "Not interested. I want a new key."
Him: "I can't authorize a new key."
Me: "Then I want to talk to the general manager."
Him: "Who?"
Which is what I did. The general manager (who is clear across town), after making 'tear your hair out' sounds on the phone, said to find out how much it costs, and then we'll see. So I went to Toyota, and that key is $200 just for the key blank and the little shell that holds the electronic gizmo that makes the door open. Made me wish I was in the car key business.
So I sent the general manager a letter with all the information and the estimate paper, but I guess he wasn't all that excited about replacing a $200 key, because a couple weeks went by, and no word. I called again and left a message which he didn't return. I sent another letter asking when this would be resolved, and still no answer. Finally I sent a registered letter and gave him a deadline, and--nothing. So as a last resort I sent all my information over to the Better Business Bureau and the general manager finally sent me a check for $200.
Didn't end there. After some looking on the internet I found an aftermarket key was available online for about fifteen bucks. Now, that's more like it! Sent for it, and took it to a locksmith to be cut. They cut it for a buck, and I walked out to the car, happy as a kid with a bag of Skittles, and pushed the unlock button. Worked fine, got in, stuck it in the ignition. Turned in the ignition without any hesitation. Did everything it was supposed to except: Start the motor. Opened the doors, opened the trunk, turned in the ignition, and cranked the motor.
But no start.
So I took the damn thing apart (the key, not the motor) and discovered a tiny little compartment inside the new shell I hadn't noticed before. The space was empty, but in the old one, there was something glued in it. And if I held the old key shell next to the new key shell, the engine would start. Had to be some sort of chip to make the car start. So after about 20 minutes of cutting, grinding, shaving, and peeling the old key shell, I managed to dig that little demon chip out and install it in the new key shell. Worked fine--and it was so easy!! Gaaaah!
As a reward to myself for navigating this purgatory, I went to the store and bought myself a Diet Coke.
Thursday, June 26, 2014
Monday, June 2, 2014
Vacationing In a Lighthouse, Part II
Late last year (2013) I wrote that we were planning to go to Washington State in April to vacation as lighthouse keepers at the New Dungeness Lighthouse. Now I write to tell you of our experience.
The friends we had planned to go with had conflicts and couldn't make the trip, so it ended up being just my wife and myself. Because of the logistics involved in flying to Seattle from Phoenix, then renting a car and driving from the airport to the Olympic Peninsula, we decided to drive the 1700 miles to Washington. We have relatives all along the Pacific Coast, so we were able to freeload off them the whole way, and we were also able to see our grandson.
After a few day's travel we arrived at the assembly station just outside of the town of Sequim, Washington where we met our fellow keepers for the first time: Dean and his daughter Krystal from eastern Washington, and Dean's older brother David, from Vancouver. Dean--who bears a striking resemblance to Jack Nicholson--is the unofficial historian of the lighthouse, so we spent the week well informed.
We were driven from the assembly station to the base of the Dungeness Spit and then along the steep, rocky beach in the association's four-wheel-drive vehicles. The spit itself is an oddity of nature. It's a narrow strip of sand and logs and rocks created by tidal action which extends out into the Straits of Juan de Fuca for over five miles. The lighthouse is at the far end of this finger The drive must be made at low tide; otherwise it's impassable. If you're not a keeper--you walk.
The lighthouse looks like a tiny chess piece in the distance when you start out, but it slowly grows as you get closer, and after a drive of about 20 minutes, you're there.
The lighthouse has a long history. It was built in 1857, and originally all the keepers and their families were housed in the main building. A residence house was built in 1904 to facilitate additional keepers and their families, and this is where present day keepers stay. The tower was originally over 90 feet tall, but cracks were discovered in the structure in the 1930's, so it was reduced to about 65 feet tall. Over the years a number of other structures have come and gone, like the fog horn building, a dock for ships to land provisions, and an observation tower built during World War II. The foundations for these and other structures remain, although the buildings themselves are long gone.
The keepers in the earliest days led a lifestyle divided somewhere between ho-hum routine and once-in-a-while terror, what with days of relative calm giving way to violent storms and the like. In the 1860's they were unwilling witnesses to a bloody battle on the spit between rival Indian tribes, which left the losing tribe massacred, save for one woman who was able to make her way to the lighthouse.
Storms occasionally wash over the spit, leaving the lighthouse on a temporary island. And of course, every so often somebody runs a boat or a ship aground.
About twenty years ago the Coast Guard decided to board up the buildings and mechanize the light. Fortunately, an agreement was reached with the newly-formed New Dungeness Lighthouse Association to operate the light and maintain the grounds, and so it has been to this day. It has been a good arrangement which has kept the facility free from vandalism.
This was our first turn as lighthouse keepers, but not our first visit. We hiked out in 1997 on an anniversary trip, and I made the trek with friends in 1961 as a twelve-year-old, my signature in the Coast Guard log book bearing witness.
Our time there in April was rather chilly for us Arizonans, but we did fine. We got a lot of reading done, as well as walking and talking. The comfortable and nicely-furnished house has one bedroom on the ground floor, two upstairs and yet another in the basement. A small library and reading room upstairs is well stocked with books of all kinds--including not a few about lighthouses. There are puzzles and games for those so inclined, and the basement has a pool table. The kitchen is spacious and modern, with all sorts of gadgets and utensils. If you go hungry, it's only because you're on a diet, or you didn't bring enough food.
Our stay passed quickly, and I don't say that lightly, as I am easily bored. But there's so much to take in and to do. In the span of seven short days we observed seals and whales and a variety of birds, including bald eagles. Ships large and small pass day and night, and identifying them is interesting pastime. The whole spit is a wildlife refuge and bald eagles are very common, as are many varieties of shorebirds. We spotted a whale one day, as well as seals and although we didn't observe any, skunks, foxes and otters are occasionally seen.
Magical and timeless--that's the best description I can give. The property is well documented in photographs, and it's a joy to gaze at a century-plus of photos of the keepers and their families, as well as handprints and initials and dates pressed into the cement in various places on the grounds. Now we're a part of that lineage.
Our duties included giving tours of the lighthouse, and maintaining the building and grounds. There was some brass to polish, a rather large lawn to mow, and a bit of housekeeping, but nothing too strenuous or time consuming.
There's a signpost near the beach which greets visitors as they come onto the property. One sign points back to the mainland, and says 'reality'. the other points towards the lighthouse, and it is marked 'serenity'. I suppose that sums up the essence of the place. But I came close to finding a hammer and making both signs point towards the light; and that about sums it up.
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The New Dungeness Lighthouse |
The friends we had planned to go with had conflicts and couldn't make the trip, so it ended up being just my wife and myself. Because of the logistics involved in flying to Seattle from Phoenix, then renting a car and driving from the airport to the Olympic Peninsula, we decided to drive the 1700 miles to Washington. We have relatives all along the Pacific Coast, so we were able to freeload off them the whole way, and we were also able to see our grandson.
After a few day's travel we arrived at the assembly station just outside of the town of Sequim, Washington where we met our fellow keepers for the first time: Dean and his daughter Krystal from eastern Washington, and Dean's older brother David, from Vancouver. Dean--who bears a striking resemblance to Jack Nicholson--is the unofficial historian of the lighthouse, so we spent the week well informed.
We were driven from the assembly station to the base of the Dungeness Spit and then along the steep, rocky beach in the association's four-wheel-drive vehicles. The spit itself is an oddity of nature. It's a narrow strip of sand and logs and rocks created by tidal action which extends out into the Straits of Juan de Fuca for over five miles. The lighthouse is at the far end of this finger The drive must be made at low tide; otherwise it's impassable. If you're not a keeper--you walk.
The lighthouse looks like a tiny chess piece in the distance when you start out, but it slowly grows as you get closer, and after a drive of about 20 minutes, you're there.
A View Towards the Mainland From the Lantern Room |
The keepers in the earliest days led a lifestyle divided somewhere between ho-hum routine and once-in-a-while terror, what with days of relative calm giving way to violent storms and the like. In the 1860's they were unwilling witnesses to a bloody battle on the spit between rival Indian tribes, which left the losing tribe massacred, save for one woman who was able to make her way to the lighthouse.
Storms occasionally wash over the spit, leaving the lighthouse on a temporary island. And of course, every so often somebody runs a boat or a ship aground.
About twenty years ago the Coast Guard decided to board up the buildings and mechanize the light. Fortunately, an agreement was reached with the newly-formed New Dungeness Lighthouse Association to operate the light and maintain the grounds, and so it has been to this day. It has been a good arrangement which has kept the facility free from vandalism.
This was our first turn as lighthouse keepers, but not our first visit. We hiked out in 1997 on an anniversary trip, and I made the trek with friends in 1961 as a twelve-year-old, my signature in the Coast Guard log book bearing witness.
The Author Holding the Lighthouse Log Book Which He Signed in 1961 on His First Visit |
Our stay passed quickly, and I don't say that lightly, as I am easily bored. But there's so much to take in and to do. In the span of seven short days we observed seals and whales and a variety of birds, including bald eagles. Ships large and small pass day and night, and identifying them is interesting pastime. The whole spit is a wildlife refuge and bald eagles are very common, as are many varieties of shorebirds. We spotted a whale one day, as well as seals and although we didn't observe any, skunks, foxes and otters are occasionally seen.
Magical and timeless--that's the best description I can give. The property is well documented in photographs, and it's a joy to gaze at a century-plus of photos of the keepers and their families, as well as handprints and initials and dates pressed into the cement in various places on the grounds. Now we're a part of that lineage.
Our duties included giving tours of the lighthouse, and maintaining the building and grounds. There was some brass to polish, a rather large lawn to mow, and a bit of housekeeping, but nothing too strenuous or time consuming.
One of Many Ships Which Make their Way Through The Straits of Juan de Fuca |
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