My laptop is now in the tender care of Gothicdweller’s hubby, Mike, at Fast Systems computer repair in Picayune. I say tender care because my idea of fixing it was the driving urge to take a ball peen hammer to it out of frustration. Mike told me to put the hammer away. He has the patience of Job. He explained slowly and carefully, as if for the simple-minded (or in my case red-headed temper fit inclined), for the thousandth-time-over, no matter how much devastation I wreak on it, the hard drive will still be intact and the hard drive contains the problem.
So while Mike’s fixing mine I’m using my hubby’s antique laptop hoopty computer. He loves the thing, even if he uses the excuse he keeps it ‘so the grandkids will stay off the one I write on’. The truth is he hates change. Thank heavens, or I’d probably have been traded in eons ago!
It’s old (antique), slow (I can do housework —shucks!— while waiting for it to go from site to site), makes noises (truly obscene whines and groans) and weighs a ton. How heavy? Imagine working with a twenty pound granite slab in your lap. Of course, I get exercise pretty regularly when using it. I have to get up and jog in place to restore circulation to my legs from the thigh down from time to time.
I really shouldn’t complain, because at least I can still work while waiting for mine. The thing actually has– Hallelujah! –a USB port for my memory stick. Mike breathed enough temporary life into mine to recover a requested story I was working on. I make a practice of saving everything to an outside source, with only the collective first three or four chapters of each MS set to submit on my actual laptop, but Murphy’s Law decreed the only one I needed hadn’t been backed up before shutting down.
All the laughing hoopty talk we did prompted a memory. The kids, all now grown, knew a fantastic young man in Jr. High and Highschool who drove an old brown Ford LTD Station Wagon. I mean really old, even back then. It was huge as older versions of Station Wagons tended to be, so big it looked like a land-locked yacht rolling up and down the dirt roads around here. The paint was a chalky memory of its original color. Except for the darker places where a few tenacious pieces of chrome had taken their time falling off. But he’d proudly christened it “My Hoopty” down both sides in bold white letters. Other students drove everything from jacked-up, mud-tired four-wheel-drive pickup trucks, sports cars, hand-me-down parent sedans, even a Beamer. He was teased unmercifully by classmates about his poo-poo rider.
But at least once, every single one of them had to call “My Hoopty” for a ride because their ‘better’ vehicle had broken down. Turns out this kid was a master mechanic. And it was a good thing he never held a grudge. The guys in the bad boy pickups went mud riding? My Hoopty would have mud piled atop the front bumper where it’d plowed its way in to help drag a few trucks from bogs, or replace ruined universal joints at the front of a drive shaft. When the new fangled electronic systems went haywire on the new sedans, good old My Hoopty with its trusty points and plugs showed up to get them rolling again. Even my youngest daughter’s low slung Nissan sports car needed a rescue at three in the morning. Of course, she’d managed to skid sideways through three front yards on Hwy. 603, after dodging a deer doing ninety. Her, not the deer. (Yes, I convinced her she needed a truck. A full size one. More metal surrounding her in case she decided to go gunning for lawn ornaments again.) I have a picture, too, somewhere in an album, a shot I almost didn’t get. Too many tears in my eyes from laughing at the image of My Hoopty’s oversized pointed hood parting traffic like the prow of a ship parting waves, dragging a smart navy blue Beamer with sparkling little wheels on a tow strap behind it.
Guess that means I need to quit poking fun at hubby’s Hoopty ‘Puter. Especially since it’s still running and mine isn’t. Seems the old hoopties keep going no matter what. I’m going to ask that you excuse me for now. My legs are numb again, and I need to set an alarm for six this evening before I forget.
I’m sure I’ll have to start the upload at that time tonight for this to post at 12:01 Friday!
Happy Hoopty-ing, folks! I’m sure enjoying (?) my current experience!