One of the things I want to do before I croak is to restore my 1972 Chevrolet Blazer 4X4. The motivation and "before I croak" attitude stems from a recent event.
A church-friend of my in-laws got sick with some sort of -oma. Larry had "beat" his cancer years before I met him. Nothing about him even hinted at his ordeal. If anyone could be described as "a tall drink of water" it would be Larry. The public persona that I got to know was a quiet, almost phlegmatic, gentleman who looked most comfortable when he had his wife standing next to him. I sang with his wife in the choir. Becky appeared to be everything Larry wasn't. Where Larry was tall, Becky was short. While Larry played the retiring sort, Becky was the fireball. They typified the stereotypical couple where opposites attract. They both were from Texas. Twenty-odd years in California hadn't dented their accent much. They weren't obnoxious about their Texan-ness, not at all the sort that don't understand that no-one gives a flying fuck about how great they think Texas is and that everyone is tired as hell of listening to them go on and on about it. No, these folks were sophisticated, sensitive, intelligent folks who happened to have a Texan accent.
Like I said, cancer hit Larry hard. Then it hit his son Russell. When I met the family, things had stabilized. Russell had started his own family. Larry retired from NASA. Larry and Becky finished most of the remodeling on their empty nest in Los Altos. It sounded like they felt comfortable enough to make plans again.
Then the cancer came back.
As he slowly died, friends and acquaintances came to visit. It was on one of these visits that I learned from Becky that Larry had always been more of a planner than a doer. This propensity was reflected by the two (not one but two) early 70s Mercury Cougar musclecars in his driveway.
Apparently the ugly-as-sin, land yacht styling of the Cougars struck a chord with Larry around 1972. He'd spent the next 25 years lusting after them. Then he'd bought a couple, intending to restore them to their former glory.
Now he was dying and his wife was going to be stuck with a couple of ugly hulks in the front of her house.
My Blazer is much like Larry's Cougar. It's big and hulking. It has too much "character," meaning there's too much rust on it and enough non-essential parts are worn out (tailgate, window rollers, etc.) that the old girl is rather cantankerous.
Also, even if brand new, only a few folks would appreciate the styling of the truck. The number of fans is growing as this specific truck is now more fashionable than ever (I get an inquiry to buy it every couple of months), but my wife is never going to be numbered among its admirers. They only reason that she tolerates the old beast is because I have such a sentimental attachment to it and that it eventually might be used for hauling stuff and towing trailers.
So let's say I've got a ten-year plan. The first thing on my list is to replace the defective rear drum brakes with new disc brakes. Successful or not, it's sure to inspire a Cant or two.
Pakeha