In the afternoon, I thoroughly investigated axle noise on the Dodge Dart. This involved jacking up the entire rear of the car so both wheels could spin freely. I determined that the right rear axle indeed has a slight whip in it, making the wheel go up and down about a 20th of an inch as it rotates. This accounts for a little groan that happens at half the speed of the wheel's rotation. I have no idea whether this situation is serious, but it troubles me. If any of you has ever dealt with a slightly bent axle before, I would encourage you to send me email. As much as I hate car trouble, it does have the good effect of forcing upon me a crash course in the mechanics of a particular component. And knowledge is power. As Nietzche once said...
The plans to build a Frat Boy Machine date back to about a year ago, when I discussed the idea with Jessika.
To transport the big closet doors, I tied them to the roof of the Dart with bicycle inner tubes.
After dropping all the stuff off at the Artspace, I rode with Jenfariello up to Lowes on 29 North to pick up some hardware, electrical stuff mostly: switches, wires, and coloured light bulbs. Like I say, this Frat Boy Machine is going to be a complex device.
There's a kind of cheap perfume that occasionally pervades the halls of Comet. It's worn by the girlfriend of the custodian; she often visits him while he toils in the morning. The perfume is so horribly repulsive that I find myself holding my breath as I walk through clouds of it, but even so it still can burn my eyes. How would I describe it? It has a nauseating chemical pungency, with a kind of demented Mandarin Orange / English Walnut flavour. My guess is that it was specifically designed to cover up pussy odour. If I were to smell it in a moment of passion, I'm sure the result would be a rapid loss of carnal desire.
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