donger need food.

Underpinnings of a Thursday

I awoke this morning to the incessant cry of a mechanical buzz courtesy of the Sony Dream Machine, desperately seeking my attention from deep within the bowels of my medium pile carpet. Several failed attempts at dissuasion later, I relented with a sigh and rolled my grouchy body out of the warm domicile that was my bed. Too much into my vacation to care about today's schedule, I quickly recalled the 2 hours of MotoGP coverage lurking within the confines of that electronic box that used to be the craze before the advent of 5" aluminum discs -- my VCR.

Valentino was his typical superhuman self, winning both rounds hands down. What an amazing talent, passing riders on the edge of adhesion in his Yamaha. It must be a wonderful feeling to be at the top of your game, to know unequivocally that you are the absolute best at what you do...that nothing is beyond your reach. Imagine the high that your body, your mind and your soul experiences during these moments of pure joy -- my feeble mind reaches back into the deep recesses of the memory books and for a few brief moments, I recall a couple, no, maybe a handful of instances when that feeling was mine. Eh. No use reminiscing on times long gone -- that's what old people do.

After my fill of motorcycle racing and hopeless ambitions of grandeur piloting a 120kg sled to 320km/h down the front straight, I begin the mundaneness that is just another Thursday. But it's not just "another Thursday". This one is special...there's a void; something very wrong missing -- work. Past Thursdays usually pointed to the rudimentary generation of weekly status reports, MS Outlook reminders buzzing my pristine WRX-bliss desktop wallpaper. But not this one. This day, with clouds looming overhead and dots of moisture on the ground, was meant for only one thing...maintenance.

My beloved Japanese import, a similar model once the grand victor in the Japanese Touring Car Championship of a decade ago, sits neglected in the cold sanctum of the 2 vehicle garage, hood propped open, dormant without a pulse as her battery sits discharged on the hard concrete floor. Thoughts run through my mind of ambitious goals like a clutch replacement; flywheel resurfacing; axle replacement. I contemplate the reward of a big job well done as time starts slipping from my fingers...10AM fast approaches and I still haven't purchased a battery. Alas, my procrastinating spirit will save the big stuff for another day and focus on getting the show on the road. A quick run down to the nearby Sears megasyore-one-stop-shop-for-all-your-clothes-and-Kenmore-Craftsman-hand-tool-needs yields me a beautiful Red Top sealed lead gel power unit. 10 minutes of improvisation with some washers and the rebadged Primera fires up willingly. Victory!

And yet, the celebration is only half as sweet; I still have an alternator to replace. My instinctual procrastination immediately kicks in and I find myself chatting up a storm with Randy several hours later -- It's been over 5 days since the experience and we're still reliving the highs and lows. The trip has infused a huge shot of something into our lives; for me personally, it's a spike of change that has been sorely needed in my life that up to this point has consisted of mindless banter about test coverage reports, defect removal efficiency metrics, and performance evaluations of others that have and haven't found their exact place in this world. And to think before embarking on this venture I had voiced complaints to the all-powerful-Director-of-QA that "all this stress isn't worth going on vacation" (to which she quickly replied "but you haven't gone yet!")

I must remember to do this more often; my last e-mail-less and cellphone-less vacation was last July.

The alternator awaits.

posted by VirtualErn @ 2:36 PM

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