ADOLSS and why aren’t there awesome drugs for it

MiniMe says I’ve got ADOLSS.  This stands for Attention Deficit Oh Look Something Shiny.  Sometimes I need to choke MiniMe.  Usually when she’s exactly right.

So I had this chain of ideas that involve joining a traveling club, buying and restoring a vintage camper, buying and restoring a vintage truck to pull said camper, and somehow managing to get myself a 1956 Thunderbird.  My ADOLSS would like to vomit out this whole story in a 70 mile post.  Cause I remembered that I had a blog today.  I’m gonna try to just stick with one facet of this nonsense.  You know what kalliope music sounds like?  Me too.

So I’m going to tell you about my new old car.  Like I said, it’s a 1956 Thunderbird.  It is going to be beautiful.  It is not, today, beautiful at all.

Here’s a full frontal.

On craigslist it said it was a “barn find”.  This, in the old car world, means that some old coot parked his awesome-mobile in a barn 56 years ago and forgot about it.  He proceeded to live and die.  Then the grandkids to go Papaw’s farm to clean out his crap.  They go into the barn and find the awesome mobile.  They say, “Look at this super old piece of shit car!  Let’s sell it on craigslist cause it is old and a piece of shit.”

This is NOT what happened in our case.  The listing said it was a “barn find”.  Let me tell you this car NEVER saw the inside of a barn.  It was possibly “barn adjacent”.  The drivers side had rust, lots of rust.  And a fully functioning community of FIRE ANTS living a happy life in the arm rest.  INSIDE the car!  Oh for the love of all things holy, fire ants inside the car.

Calling this car a rust bucket isn’t really fair.  There are a lot of parts of her that are in pretty good shape.  Ever notice how cars are always female?  The T-bird is female because I said so.  And her name is Grace Kelly.  Because of the “Can I have your number” MadTV skit AND because Grace Kelly was hot as shit and she got to be a real live movie star and then a princess.  Like a real live fairytale.  And she was just a badass.

Look at me, I’m the fucking bomb. It’s true.

Sometimes Minime says I’m like a hummingbird on meth.  See above.  Damn kid.

Hubby took this photo. He's Ansel Freakin' Adams.

Hubby took this photo. He’s Ansel Freakin’ Adams.

Anyway, Hubby and I started looking for parts for GK and went to buy a gas tank from a guy who had “lots of T-bird parts”.  We expected to find a dude with a box full of odds and ends.  Holy shitsnacks that is not what we found.  This super cool old dude and two of his buddies used to restore Thunderbirds.  The one who owned the property with 11 garages, 50 bajillion parts, tools, lifts, etc. died a few years ago.  His family didn’t want to mess with anything in the shop so they asked the other two guys to sell off all of the stuff.

Hubby and I were like kids in a candy store.  There is enough stuff to build a few cars from scratch.  Seriously.  For the next week we pulled the car apart in our garage at the house.  Hubby would call “Jim” every day or so with questions like “how do I get XXX off” or “what does XXX do”.  Finally Hubby asks “Jim”  to come over and look at the car.

“Jim” comes over and starts working with Hubby.  “Jim” gets his phone out and calls his buddy, “Bob”, to come over.  My T-Bird has now become the “Jim and Bob Show”  These two guys put my car on a trailer and drove it off to their deceased buddy’s house-the one with the tools, parts, lifts and stuff.  It’s like they have been waiting for a project or something.  They are like ninjas.  And they can do all of this car stuff.  And they are nice.

“Jim”, “Bob”, and Hubby. Sorta. Well, not really. But kinda.

So I basically got screwed on craigslist and then stepped into a giant pile of lucky shit.

I’ll try to remember to blog more.  There’s some pretty funny shit that’s happened the past few months and I should write it down.

Oh shit!  I forgot something important!  My car smelled like a diaper full of shrimp in the Sahara.  I mean it smelled bad, super bad, UBER bad, knock a buzzard off a wagon of corpses bad.  After looking and searching and trying all kinds of crazy tricks the scent was located.  My first passenger, Stinky.  Not sure if Stinky was a fat mouse or a small rat.  He was mostly goo and fur.  Trust me, it was a very bad thing.  He’s in a better place now.

RIP Stinky, you nasty smelly fucker.


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