While in the States in September, I got to thinking about the pobre Meriva,as our worker referred to our Chevy minivan after seeing the loads it carried. (I wanted to get a four-door pickup when we arrived in Uruguay; wife nixed that idea.) We got it in early 2010. Paint’s fading, windshield best replaced because of scratches from volcanic ash from Chile a few years ago. But it runs well, and the prospect of shopping for anything in Uruguay is generally dreary. So when I got back, I got some repairs done: replaced the serpentine belt in the engine at 90,000 km (supposed to have been changed at 45,000), body pained, and maybe the windshield one day soon.
Quite a few weeks after the paint job, I noticed the strip between the top of the doors and the roof was looking pretty bad.
I took it back to the shop (taller) and showed it to the owner. He walked around the car. Whoever painted it simply skipped that area. No problem, he said. Of course, to finish the job will now take another three (Uruguay: read four) days.
While waiting in the garage, I became fascinated with the packaging of a replacement door.
The strings aren’t added afterward. They’re an integral part of the design. They wrap around little round plastic fasteners.
What an elegant (in the engineering sense) solution!
Time to replace the ceiling fan in our bedroom, a job I was not going to do myself — too high. The electrician brought a four-part folding ladder that wasn’t tall enough, and neither would my extension ladder work. By itself.
Since I had just started a massage in the next room when he arrived shortly after 2 PM (having said he’d be there at 10 AM), he poked around in my workshop, found rope and wire, and assembled this. My ladder is on the left; his is folded over it. Rope, many pieces of wire….
Hey, it worked!
But how did he transport a ladder on a motorbike?
Easy! Notice the tool box balanced in front of him as well.
Many details don’t show in this photo, but the seat belt hanging out the door caught my eye. And the roof rack, indicating it’s still a beast of burden. Also, parked outside a meeting at Ajupena (social center for retirees and pensioners) suggests that maybe the original owner? I haven’t been able to determine the year. Maybe inherited? Who knows.
I spotted this gem parked on the highway one day, thought to take a picture but didn’t, and the next morning it appeared in front of our house.
Although it doesn’t show in the photo, the only identification on the front was “V8.” So I walked around back, where again I saw “V8,” and only then “Ford.” The owner was walking back to get parts out of the back, and told me it was a 1942.
¡Impecable! as some people here are fond of saying. But wait — he was getting parts out of the back? Yes, a car battery, is seems. At least for this day, this was a car mechanic’s working vehicle, a 75-year old show car.