Nothing to blog about (swimming, studying, reading, watching TV) for a few days, then today. Plenty to talk about today. I thought I might take my camera but decided against it. Silly boy.
I set out to Chino Airfield early(ish), driving the Mazda 6 along the freeways with the Godfather directing me. On our way we saw a fire that had just started off the side of the freeway. This grew and grew throughout the day to become a massive fire, smoke visible for miles. Homes destroyed, people abandoning cars on the highway because of smoke inhalation. It was crazy seeing it grow after what I passed in the morning. The wind is so dangerous here.
Wandered about the airport museum lot (not the museum itself, just the field where they were fixing up the planes or storing them with a running commentary from the Godfather. Much better than the museum, no doubt. It was lovely, sunny, interesting. I just wish I had brought my camera to take some photos), had breakfast at Flo's (the previously mentioned traditional diner on the airfield grounds) with the flyboys (as I believe they should be called - an amusing bunch), then drove to John Wayne Airport to drop a few things off at the Godfather's hangar.
Here my troubles started.
When we pulled away I checked the fuel gauge. Empty. I had missed the fuel light. I said "We're low on fuel". Damn British understatement. We were not low, we were on fumes. The Godfather took this statement at face value and suggested Costco for a refill. I swear that Costco was closer last time. Cruising along, just transferred freeways, and the Godfather mentions that I can now speed up again.
No can do, sir.
I pulled over to the side, tank empty. So empty that it won't even start again. Not even dregs. Those who have felt the car die beneath them know the sadness, the dispiriting feeling as it dies in your hands. Try it on a freeway. You get fined for that. Luckily our exit wasn't too far away - recounted as half a mile, but I'm sure the truth is less - and I'm a hefty lad.
So hefty lad pushed the hefty car.
The Godfather (amazingly upbeat) helped when not steering. It was hot. 33C hot. And dry. So dry. Not being in the best shape, it was hard going. I didn't feel like I was using my muscles much, but it felt more tiring than jogging in a cardiovascular sense (I know they are muscles too, please don't be pedantic. I'm just saying it had me out of breath fast, despite only progressing at a stiff walking pace). Luck had it that there was mostly gentle downhill from where I coasted to a stop to the closest parking lot (via the exit and a set of lights). The hills that I did traverse were hard work, especially that last slope up into the lot, when my tank was running on empty (I'm a drama queen [male equivalent of] when it comes to exercise, so what, wanna fight about it?). After a phone call, a pick-up, a filling of a lidless petrol container, and a drive back (with a few wrong turns), the Mazda 6 was revived. I felt - still feel - stupid/silly/sheepish and now the Protege reeks of gas (petrol) just to remind me.
The rest of the afternoon was frittered away tinkering with the electronics around the cigarette lighter in the Protege which was stopped working after a car maintenance mishap (reconnecting the newly cleaned battery terminal with a tyre pump trying to suck electricity through the socket). It was quickly shown to not be the fault of the fuse box by the steering column, and (after some fidgeting by the Godfather) not the fault of the wiring behind the lighter. So it was the unit. Problem solved, right?
Those things are hard to get out. Seriously.
We even tried to remove the panel to get better access. Don't bother, kids. It was eventually coaxed out by the ever patient Godfather. Brilliant. Just grab a replacement and all will be well. I wish.
The closest model at the auto store was slightly different in plug configuration. So the Godfather (eventually) split the plastic unit joining the wires to allow the new model to fit. But it didn't quite fit the hole. So the Godfather widened the hole with a power drill. Then altered the plug ends to fit. One snapped off. Back to the shop. Alter new unit. Install. Test. Terminals connected the wrong way, so the current wouldn't power the electronic devices (would've lit cigarettes fine and made the aforementioned pump suck instead of blow). Cue more socket alterations. Fidgety installation. Luckily yours truly was only the light man (it was dark by now). I would've thrown a hissy fit by now and called a mechanic. The Godfather finally sorted it only to find a previous test had blown his in-car GPS system charger. His patience and upbeat nature is truly awe-inspiring. Sorted. For now.
A quick shower and change saw me off again to a dinner party. The food was amazing. Having been in America for a while, I realise how bad I am at cooking (and blogging and swimming, but I'm not talking about those).
Pre-dinner nibbles: Crackers and cheese. A firm favourite. One cheese was like a mild leicester with nuts and dates in it. Strange but tasty and crumbly to the point of impossible.
Starter: Pea and pesto salad. Al loves peas. Al loves pesto. Al loves spinach and pine nuts. Al love having hot ciabatta on the side. 'Nuff said.
Main: Steak with potatoes and asparagus. Beautiful steak. A masterpiece. Marinated and cooked in such a way that yielded seared outside and beautifully pink inside (no red bloodiness, Brits, so you should still be salivating!). Apparently ceramic burners are the key. And good meat, naturally. Salty skinned baby potatoes with oninon strips baked crisp on top. Soft (not stringy or soggy) asparagus with some sort of Balsamic (I guess) dressing and caramelized (forgive the z) baby onions. Mmm... Baby vegetables. Just can't wait to get the full bang-for-the-buck from the crops. Delicious. Seconds worthy. Thirds worthy if I weren't saving room for another round of delights. And if I were shameless enough to do it after my seconds had already had the table waiting on my finish. It was all the talking I was doing. Really.
Dessert: Ginger and macadamia tart with vanilla ice cream and chocolate sauce. Damn. This desert made me feel like a terrible baker. Mild, fruity ginger. Light, crumbly, sweet pastry. Crunchy macadamia goodness. Vanilla ice cream (needs nothing more said about it, since it was good stuff and not the awful chemical own-brand guff that has sometimes passed my poor lips and lower intestine. [Couldn't resist]). Chocolate sauce, home made from good chocolate. The type that is so rich and goopy and delicious that it shuts you up and stops your from having too much of its calorific goodness. Brought a tear to the eye.
Drinks: Ice water, Perrier (sparkling water, for those in the dark), wine (white and red), and tea (milk, no sugar). Perfect to wash down the treats listed above. Sparkling water for a touch of class. Wines light and refreshing. Tea - not quite what I'm used to (damn you Les and Mike for upping my tea standards!) - but a welcome hot beverage to was down the dinner and sugar cookie. Also I don't think a 5th cup of coffee would've been good for me (these free refills in diners are deceptive, thank you Flo's!).
Company: Good banter.
You can just tell that the food was the high point of my day, can't you?
My final thoughts concern my lunch. A lasagne (as the dish is called in Italy and anywhere that respects the mighty dish, rather than lasagna which my American friend, Spell-Checker, prefers) wrap. Or a lasagnwrap if you will. It, unlike its cousin, the lasagnwich, is better eaten hot. This poses a problem as the filling will undoubtably burn your impatient mouth. The clever man plans ahead and allows said filling to cool unwrapped to an edible temperature, then wraps and consumes. Nice, but clearly inferior to the lasagnwich with or without bread. Indeed, the lasagnwich sets a high standard to which all other pasta based left-over dishes must aspire.
I urge you all to go a rediscover the lasagnwich lover within yourselves.
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