100K

About ten miles from home tonight, the ol' Impala's odometer hit 100,000 miles. Funny; I still think of it as the "new car". And it is not that old; I probably put upwards of 30K on it every year.

The most recent repair was a minor one, but a small victory nonetheless. It needed a new low beam headlamp. I decided this was low enough on the mechanic aptitude scale that I could take on the challenge myself. Bought the bulb and got out the manual. Made the requisite three to five trips into the house to get the right tools (I overthought it, bringing out the entire socket set, two Phillips screwdrivers and three or four "regulars"). The project went quite well, as projects go, and I got the new lamp in the socket and put the assembly back in place with no spare parts sitting around.

Which was a good thing, as I was driving in the wet darkness this morning on my way to run a 7:30 meeting about 45 minutes from home. The meeting went well, but I had hoped to take some pictures around that town after the meeting, to embellish a report I am writing for them, and, let's just say this morning would have gotten the Carpenters down, if you know their oeuvre.

Of course, I got back to the office and the sun popped out and stayed out for the rest of the day. It was so nice that when I pulled in the driveway tonight, I aimed the camera up at the old maple out by the street and she was lookin' good. I believe peak color has pretty much peaked, though, so I had better get back and get those pictures if I don't want things to look too bleak.

I am also perturbed by the conflicting weather forecasts I have been hearing. Yesterday, it was all "It's going to be 70 degrees by the end of the week". Now, today, they are invoking the "S" word. How does the weather forecast drop by 40 degrees that quickly?

On the other hand, I always get a laugh out of all of our reactions around here when we hear about s--- in the forecast. We are so astonished that such a forecast could possibly be bestowed upon us here in, oh yeah, Northern Ohio, near Lake Erie, which also borders, oh yeah, CANADA. Let's face it, this time of year, s--- happens. But for now, before all these leaves are knocked senseless and left to drift onto our lawns, to be raked or blown into piles and sent off to muncipal compost piles, let's enjoy what color is left.