Tidbits - August 9 2018



  When the blown engine in my van was being replaced, I drove my pick-up to get the papers a couple of weeks ago.
  I got to introduce my truck to the Harbison area for the first time. He was not overly impressed.
  As I drove back to Bruner’s on I-20, the truck’s speedometer started acting up. On the interstate, you really don’t need a speedometer, especially in the 1-20 repair area.
  After I picked up the papers, I headed for home and the speedometer worked sporadically.
  This continued the next few times I drove it, but last Thursday, it was dead most of the time, and four idiot lights began  to pop up as well.
  I did what every red-blooded man would do. I Googled it.
  I was able to determine from all the many posts I read the problem was the speed sensor.
  All I needed to find out then was what was a speed sensor and where was it located.
  Would you believe I found a real time YouTube video about changing the speed sensor? Of course, you do.
  I was not kidding when I said  “real time.”
  At one point in the video, the instructor uses a 13mm socket to remove a bolt, but when he moves it to another bolt he said, “Uh oh, this socket is too small. I’ll be right back.”
  This was no Steven  Spielberg production that is edited before final product is put in the theater.
  The mechanic left his phone to video an inanimate speed sensor, and soon returned with the right sized socket.
  The real time video took 13 minutes, from running diagnostics to changed the sensor, to seeing if the procedure worked. That’s 13 minutes!
  Even seeing the video with my own eyes, I still had flashbacks of when my daddy said, “It will only take 30 minutes.”
  No project he ever had was completed in the promised 30 minutes. It would be closer to three or four hours ... or days.....
  I envisioned me starting to replace the sensor, then having to remove the transmission.
  Before I decided if I wanted to remove the speed sensor myself, I crawled under the truck, reached up to where the speed sensor was, and jiggled wires. That never works, but I thought I’d give it a try.
  Saturday morning, I decided to drive the truck to Edgefield for my great-nephew Madden Donlon’s birthday party, and I decided to take the short-cut to Johnston on Duncan Road.
  A month ago, I returned home on Duncan Road from Emoree’s birthday party. I was in my car, and the road, despite my car’s German engineering (my 300C was built when Mercedes owned Chrysler), about beat me to death.
  I figured the ride would be even worse in my truck (even though it, too, was built when Mercedes owner Chrysler), and,  maybe, that would jar the speedometer back into working condition.
  I hopped in the truck, hung a left onto the Batesburg Highway, and immediately noticed the speedometer was working! The jiggling worked!
  I started to turn around and take the Johnston Hwy., fearing Duncan would agitate my speedometer into not working again, but I stayed the course.
  The thermometer worked through all the bumps. I did decide to come home on the Johnston Highway, however. The smoother ride was worth the four extra miles I had to travel.
  The moral of this story is to jiggle the wires first.
  So far, in my 67 years, wire jiggling has worked exactly twice.
  The first time was with a transistor radio (ask your parents OR grandparents, young people). That was probably 40 or more years ago, so I was due another win!


  A few weeks ago, the Index-Journal had a story on the oldest veteran in South Carolina, an 102-year-old man from Greenwood.
  I didn’t see the article, but a few days after it came out, CeCe Yonce sent me a copy of the story and said, “Mr. Billy Coleman was born in January.”
  The Index story said the “oldest veteran” was born in May 1916, but retired Saluda attorney was born in January 1916, so Mr. Billy is older.
  I emailed the story’s author, Adam Benson, and told him about Mr. Billy, and emphasized it was just for his information, and nothing more had to be done.
  When he read my email, Adam said he wanted to do a story on Mr. Billy, too. I contacted Mr. Billy’s daughters, Julia Johnson and Nancy Ann Wooten, who are my Facebook friends, and gave them Adam’s email.
  Adam talked to the two daughters and wrote a very good story about Mr. Billy.
  The point of this is when you hear of an 102-year-old veteran, you naturally assume he’s the oldest veteran in South Carolina. How could there be anyone older? There’s at least one!
  In June, we ran the obituary of Vanoy Clark, 85.
  When people read her obituary and saw she was “survived by her mother,” I’m sure everyone who didn’t know Vanoy was sure that was a misprint. How can an 85-year-old be survived by her mother?
  Vanoy’s mother, Mrs. Lucillle Black Miller, is 107.


  As he was threatening to pitch a no-hitter last week, the Atlanta Braves’ Sean Newcomb was unaware that some “not too nice” tweets he made in his younger days were beginning to circulate on social media.
  It seems there are people saving up every bad quote or embarrassing photo for just to right moment to humiliate a person who is accomplishing something.
  In today’s world, the best way to avoid something coming back to haunt you is to not post an embarrassing quote or photo.
  Remember, when you apply for a job, your social media activity will re researched.
  Think before you post, young people ... and adults.