What cosmically ominous message was being sent when my wife Ann was beaned at Fenway Park on the 100th anniversary of the venerable baseball venue? To the day!

Was she there in another life on April 20, 1912? And did she sneak in? Was it a warning to stay away from Fenway and the atrocious 2012 Red Sox?

Sox greats Kevin Millar and Pedro Martinez regaling Red Sox Nation on the 100th...

The bizarre event happened in the middle a losing effort to the Yankees (nee the Highlanders in 1912…bet you didn’t know they started in Baltimore) when we were returning to our seats. She was barely through ramp opening when “PFFFFWAP!” A foul ball came screaming down, smashed into the foot-thick concrete and glanced off the Ann’s head.

I had no idea it hit her, but looked back when I heard the initial contact. “John, that hit me,” she gasped, more stunned than hurt.

We were ushered to Fenway First Aid where they found a red mark, but no bleeding on the back of her head. The EMT gave her some Advil and some Red Sox personnel bestowed upon her a cheesy goodie bag (actually, Red Sox customer service has treated us well this year after a ticket snafu for which I am to blame) .

The odd thing is I have sat in seats near this ramp for almost 20 years and very few foul balls have come close to us — until last year, that is. In a single 2011 game, one landed in a seat in front of us and one in back. And like a Sidewinder missile, this one blazed toward my wife’s noggin. We never got the ball – it bounced into the stands.

I don’t want to think too hard about what this means. I’ll chalk it up to gl0bal warming.

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We saw The Avengers and although it’s not typically my kind of movie, I enjoyed it. Good bid of humor, lots of action and a great cast. The flick got 4.5 stars of IMDb. Click here for the trailer.

It’s all the Marvel Comics Superheros – Ironman, Captain America, The Hulk and Thor –  getting together to save New York and the nation from godless aliens. But in a restaurant discussion about the movie afterward, no one in our group mentioned that the Government would nuke Manhattan to turn the tide of the battle.

That angle I found interesting if not a questionable use of my tax dollars. And in a way, it’s frighteningly possible should we be attacked by overwhelming forces from or not from this planet. What would the government save first? Itself, of course.

I won’t let you in on any more of the plot. Go see it….Robert Downey Jr. is always worth the price of the admission – a bit steep at $13, but it was in 3D so something has to pay for those funky glasses.

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'57 Ford Fairlane ragtop - with a Toyota engine

In October, 1960, the U.S. imposed a partial trade embargo on Cuba after Fidel Castro, new head of state, announced Cuba would turn socialist. At the height of the Cold War, the liberator turned dictator, whom the U.S. had enthusiastically supported just a few months earlier, had made a pronouncement tantamount to a declaration of war.

Click here for my full Cuba picture gallery on Facebook.

As Castro set about nationalizing U.S. industries in Cuba, a near total economic embargo or what the Cubans today still call a blockade was imposed on Feb. 7, 1962.

From the U.S point of view, the embargo was more than justified. Castro was a murderous and vengeful dictator with sinister ambitions to ignite communist revolutions in South America and across the globe. Much of that, of course, is true. Castro relentlessly murdered his opponents in El Morro, the 422-year-old fortress protecting Havana Harbor that Ann and I traipsed through one morning during an eight-day trip to Cuba last February.

So early on the morning of January 1, 1959, President Fulgencio Batista, who once deposed a dictator was deposed himself. He fled down a secret staircase in the Presidential Palace to a plane that carried him and his family to safety in the Dominican Republic. Retribution was swift. By March 19, 483 police officials, mayors and other counter revolutionaries had been tried and executed by the Castro regime.

Consider Cuba before Castro. Batista’s government was thoroughly corrupt, brutal and indifferent to the needs of ordinary Cubans. The Mafia ran roughshod over Havana. The rest of the country was largely ignored. There was crippling poverty everywhere. Cuba was economically an American puppet state: At the beginning of 1959, U.S. companies owned about 40 percent of the Cuban sugar lands—almost all the cattle ranches—90 percent of the mines and mineral concessions—80 percent of the utilities—practically all the oil industry—and supplied two-thirds of Cuba’s imports, according to speech given by JFK in 1960.

Our wonderful group after lunch at El Morro

I could not verify who said the following, but the alleged quote bears repeating: “The U.S. would do anything for the Cubans except get to know them.” A Cuban told me it was FDR, but I could not verify that. More likely, it was FDR’s fifth cousin Teddy who was much more familiar with that part of the world. The point remains.

The Pilar: Hemingway's fishing boat

Castro will turn 86 in August while his brother, Raul, hits 81 in June. Few if anyone knows what the true succession plan is or even if there is one. But the Castros’ still need the U.S. as the boogie man to keep a firm grip on power.

Castros or not, the 50-year old embargo should end. In a sense, it’s a crime against 11 million Cubans, who are denied the most basic creature comforts and necessities. Each citizen gets one bar of soap a month (rub arm). Food is rationed. We were told to bring the basics to give away: pads of paper, pens and pencils, makeup and barrettes for the women and baseballs for the boys. Combs, aspirin, BandAids are always in short supply.

Hard currency is scarce to import many of life’s necessities. People wander the streets, many seemingly with little to do.

The hundreds of long-empty store fronts in Havana are a telling sign that  commercial activity is moribund save a commercial square or two and an occasional grocery store. Not much more than a couple of plastic chairs can be found in these darkened and unlit interiors – and stairs that lead to apartments on the upper floors.

Bay of Pigs Museum

But the Cubans soldier on. They are relaxed, warm and friendly. We saw little evidence of crime and never felt threatened. A police sighting in Havana is less frequent than in Boston. Seeing the military is rarer still.

To a much lesser extent, the embargo is an economic crime against Americans too. Imagine the positive effect to the construction industry if investment could be made to Havana’s spectacular Spanish architecture. Indeed, 80% of the homes in Havana were built between 190 and 1960 and have been decaying for decades.

Given the uncertainty over the embargo, investment is at best trickling into Havana at present so all that’s left of some proud buildings are their facades and the rusting staging that holds them up. They await investment that would gush into Cuba if the embargo was lifted. Maybe when the Castros are gone.

The embargo manifests itself this way: If Marriott wanted to build hotels in Cuba, the company would have to stop operating in the U.S. Indeed, Sofitel was pressured to shut a Havana hotel down so its French parent could keep the many U.S. hotels open. But there are bright spots: the seaside resort town of Varadero, which is a mere 87 miles from the U.S., had one hotel in 1989. In fact it was a replica of the famed Hotel Nacionale in Havana

Jorge

Jorge in Wisconsin hat giving the hand "W."

where the mafia, Hemingway and movie stars held forth. Now Varadero has 50 hotels patronized largely by Canadians, Russians, Germans and Brits.

But the embargo is unevenly applied: there’s plenty of Nissans and Toyotas on the streets and those companies have a massive presences in the U.S.

Actually, the US, believe it or not and thanks to Bill Clinton, is Cuba’s 4^th or 5^th largest trading partner. Clinton allowed US farmers to sell beans, corn and chicken to Cubans. But before it leaves the docks in the U.S., it has to be paid for with hard currency. Trade reached a high of $744 million in 2008, but declined to $352 million last year as hard currency reserves dwindled although it started ticking up again in January and Feb., probably from the renewal of educational and cultural tours last year from the U.S. which bring in hard currency.

But for the most part, you do not see American brands in Cuba: no Coke, no Bud, no Nike….the few PCs we saw had Chinese labels on them and our tour bus was made by Youtong, a Chinese company. The only roadside signs you see espouse La revolucion and display the mug of Che Gueverra,  who died young and was immortalized as the handsome face of La revolucion. Fidel, we were told was too old and grizzled, to have his mug plastered up everywhere. Best to go with Che’s movie star good looks.

It’s hard to defend Castro, but not impossible. Indeed, Steve’s and my friend Alberto Gongara who came to the U.S. in 1960 hates it every time Castro calls South Florida Cubans traitors and worms. I mean it really bothers him. Yes, the charged rhetoric still flies, and expresses the depth of animosity between Cubans in Cuba and Cubans in South Florida.

Alberto Gongara

“Free healthcare and tuition are great, but Cuba is not so great at breakfast, lunch and dinner,” Alberto likes to say.

But on our trip, we also heard the Cuban side of the story from professors, economists, hospital administrators, musicians, beggars, nurses, architects, technicians, primary school teachers, waiters and even the nuns who ran a marvelous retirement home in central Havana.

Cigar factory store

But no one was more influential over our group than our Cuban guide Jorge-Soria Perez. We were a group of 36 North Americans traveling with a Dept. of the Treasury license under the aegis of the University of Wisconsin Alumni Association. Why Treasury? It manages and enforces the embargo under the Office of Foreign Asset Control set up in 1963. Now that’s a name only a bureaucrat could love.

Now I could give you a travelogue and describe the hotels and the food which were pretty good. Indeed, we visited a primary school, Hemingway’s Havana lair, a health clinic, an art school in which the main building was designed to represent a woman’s reproductive and sexual organs, the Bay of Pigs, a revolutionary museum, churches, a world class art museum, Cuba’s biggest cigar factory and many, many bars where the nasally vocals of Cuban music sliced through the air.

Workers in a splendid Havana retirement home

We saw many, many buildings such as the empty but solid and ornate Opera House and cannons recovered from the USS Maine perched along the Malecon, a long stone embankment on the Atlantic and a favorite gathering place. There were many statues and monuments for Jose Marti, the father of Cuban independence. I had my picture taken with a statue of Bennie More, a legendary Cuban band leader.

But the people struck me the most and no one more so than Jorge, who was warm, attentive, candid and funny. When was the last time you heard a Cuban cheer Bucky the Badger, Wisconsin’s mascot? He never shied away from a political discussion. And it was the politics and people are I found most interesting.

I kept an ear out for propaganda, but there was precious little, but Jorge  certainly did not apologize for Castro who, he said, enjoys a 70% approval rating.

Of course, that was hard to verify, but to be honest from everything we saw, Castro’s popularity would be as hard to disprove as prove. As Jorge said, we were only getting our BA in Cuba – we’d have to return to for our Masters and return yet again for a PhD.

We were not restricted in where we could walk and visited several cities and towns about 250-300 miles outside of Havana. Of course, we were shown what they wanted us to see, but they could not hide what seemed to me was a largely idle population.

Here’s what Jorge said about those who fled Cuba along with perhaps a tinge of disgust: “Their minds stopped in 1959. They put their money in a suitcase and left.” Some Cubans, he said, feel those who left for the U.S. are

Ugliest building ever: Russian embassy

traitors, but my sense was Jorge did not feel that strongly about it and I am sure 30% of Cubans don’t assuming Castro has the other 70% in his pocket.

Jorge said Castro offered to pay for the U.S. businesses he nationalized in the early sixties, but I wondered with what? During nationalization, Cuban business owners were told they no longer owned their business. They worked for the government now and could pull a salary. The shock forced many to leave. And they still leave.

If a raft is too risky, you can apply for 20,000 visas granted each year by the U.S., again thanks to Clinton who Jorge thinks was well on his way to normalizing relations. Indeed, the Cuban view about how Washington views them falls along party lines here –  Clinton wanted to normalize relations and Obama, if re-elected, might just pull it off. Carter wanted to as well, but got distracted by the Iran hostage situation.

The official line puts Reagan, HW Bush and Dubya on a low bar with Batista. As you leave the presidential palace – now a museum – there are unflattering caricatures of three republican presidents next to Batista with the most insulting one reserved for George W. Bush. He’s cast as a donkey in a dictator’s military uniform and donning a cap bearing a swastika. Such scenes do not exactly encourage dialog. That and the signage at the Bay of Pigs was the most overt propaganda that we saw on our trip.

If a Cuban is lucky enough to get a U.S. visa, he or she cannot come back. They leave everything behind — family and possessions. Apply for one and I suspect they’re blackballed from such prestigious venues as the U. of

Retirement home resident - very sweet lady

Havana. The visas are hard to get and the wait to leave is long even after the visa is granted.

There’s tangle of bizarre rules. Indeed, Jorge many times referred to the relationship with U.S. as complicated, a euphemism for Cubans caught in the Catch-22 political crossfire.

Anyone know what wet foot, dry foot is?  If you choose to risk life and limb at night on a raft or ramshackle boat and you’re lucky enough to make it to dry land in the U.S., you can claim asylum as a political refugee. If you have so much as a toe in the water, you are sent back to Cuba to what is sure to be difficult circumstances. Immigration estimates 16,000 Cubans a year arrive on a raft, a scow or what they call fast boats for which their owners charge $6-10k a head – a king’s ransom in Cuba and probably sent by relatives in the U.S.

If a Cuban makes it to Mexico with a Cuban passport, they’re in luck. Let’s say he heads for the Texas border with a Mexican friend. He shows his Cuban passport to customs and is welcomed to the U.S. as a political refugee. His Mexican friend? He’s sent back.

Jorge did not have much of a handle on how many try to leave illegally. Indeed, families, many of whom have relatives in Florida can visit if they can afford it. Almost all can’t and getting permission to leave Cuba is a long and cumbersome process. Indeed, Jorge in all his 46 years has never set foot outside of Cuba. I told him he’s welcome in Boston any time. He seemed interested and said he had friends there.

We saw several Cubans returning on our American charter to Havana, loaded down with flat screen TVs and whatever they could carry back from the U.S. Now that Obama has restored cultural and educational trips such as ours, there’s 10 roundtrips flights a day between Havana and Miami – for us 48 minutes over, 36 minutes back. So tantalizingly close…..

It’s estimated in the range of 600,000 U.S. citizens will visit Cuba this year, but if the embargo was lifted, the number is projected to be 10 times that in the first year alone. It’s impossible to imagine how Cuba’s tired and inadequate infrastructure could absorb such a tidal wave of humanity.

But back to Castro: Here’s how he justifies himself as explained to Max Lesnik five years ago. Lesnik, a school classmate and communications official for Castro during the revolution, became disillusioned with the dictator when the executions did not cease.  Once he allied Cuba with the Soviets, Lesnik fled to Miami where he was a favorite bombing target by right wing Cuban terrorists known as Omega 7 because he has long advocated an end to the embargo.

In a movie about him a few years ago called The Man of Two Havanas, Lesnik returned and met with Castro, who explained why he cozied up to the Soviets…something to the effect, “What was I supposed to do now that the market for sugar in the US no longer existed?” Lesnik was nearly killed in the Florida offices of his Latin magazine Replica, which was bombed 11 times and several times in one week alone.

Students rushed down these steps and were met with a hail of bullets from the police.

The movie criticizes Congressional members Ileana Ros-Lehtinen and Mario Diaz Balart for their intransigence about lifting the embargo. I think it was Ros Lehtinen who said the educational and cultural trips were nothing more than sex tours. Well, you could have fooled me.  Actually, prostitution is a big issue and why Cubans are not allowed to go beyond the lobbies of hotels unless they have official clearance.

The movie is quite good and won acclaim at the Sundance and Tribecca film festivals. Other recommended movies about Cuba are The Lost City directed by Andy Garcia and The Lost Son of Havana about Luis Tiante’s tearful return to Havana after 45 years in the U.S. That there’s Lost in the titles speaks volumes.

My friend, Alberto thinks Lesnik is nothing more than a Castro agent and apologist and therein lies the intractable differences between South Florida Cubans and those in the country. In fact, he suspects, a bit implausibly, that there are two Cuban agents for every 10 Cubans in Miami. Maybe Lesnik, now in his 80s like Castro, is one of them.

Cuba’s pact with the Soviets was a convenient, but one-sided marriage. The Soviets craved a foothold in the Western Hemisphere and one so close to U.S. soil was a stroke of luck.

Seventy five percent of Cuba’s sugar was sold to the U.S. before the embargo. The embargo eliminated the market for Cuban sugar, first 25% of it and then completely. The Russians bought all of Cuba’s sugar production at an inflated price. As Castro’s literal sugar daddy, the Soviet Union bought Cuba’s sugar for nearly 30 years until it collapsed in 1989. Aid ceased and Cuba found itself thrust on the world market where it found itself an inefficient producer.

In 1989, there were almost 190 sugar mills in Cuba. Today there are around 45 still operating. The rest are shuttered and rusting hulks that litter the countryside.

And speaking of rusting hulks, I saw a rather large one while peering from the hotel balcony in Cienfuegos. Off in the distance was a dome that looked like the Seabrook nuclear power station. I thought we’re getting wound about Iran getting nuclear weapons and Cuba already has nuclear capabilities 300 miles from our shores.

As it turned out, the Soviets were building the reactor prior to its collapse in 1989. Work on the Juragua reactor ceased in 1992 and while discussions to finish it continued for eight years, it was decided to abandon it for the same old story — lack of financing. Good thing, too, says Jorge…it was the same design as the Chernobyl reactors.

During the years following the Soviet collapse and subsequent uncoupling to the two nations, Cuba suffered mightily. It’s GDP fell 35% during what was labeled The Special Period. Eventually, Castro’s Cuba found new partners such as Venezuala and renewed closer ties to Spain. Store shelves were empty – literally, and if ever there was a time for the embargo to be lifted, it was then.

The Russians are just as an intense subject for Jorge as the U.S. and Spain. He feels that all of them manipulated the Cubans. For example, Cuba enjoyed a close technical and economic alliance with Israel, but once the Soviets exerted influence, it became “the enemy of my friend is my enemy.” Lose Israel, the Soviets insisted…and Cuba did. Since the Soviet collapse, the Israelis have helped the Cubans replant spent sugar cane fields with citrus trees. And the Israelis built an apartment building called Jerusalem in a trade complex in the Miramar section of Havana. Ironically, it’s close to the Russian embassy, which is perhaps the ugliest building I have ever seen.

Bullet holes in the Presidential from students coming to get Fulgencio Batista in 1959

I asked Jorge to characterize the Cuba Soviet relationship now that it has been over for more than two decades. “Imposed and transitory” was his response. The Russians, many thousands of miles away from Cuba, might as well have been from outer space. The two nations had communism in common, but Jorge would argue that Cuba is socialist not communist. After all, families own their homes and can pass them down …they can trade them, buy not sell them although some of those rules have been relaxed recently.

Jorge said something more profound though when it came to talking about its benefactor states. He looked at me: “You don’t have to worry about your sovereignty.” Cuba has always lived in the shadow of the Spain, the U.S., the Soviet Union and even the British.

Which bring us to Cuban economy – such as it is. Yes, there are some industries – agriculture is the biggest and tourism would seem the next biggest and now Cuba has partnered with China to explore for oil off its shores. There was some speculation US drillers might enter the picture if oil is excluded from the embargo. Indeed, we saw two Chinese oil derricks in Varadero.

But even Cubans have a hard time getting their arms around how their economy works. “I’ve lived here 46 years and I still don’t understand it,” Jorge told us.

Indeed, much of the confusion comes from a dual currency system. The Cuban Peso or CUP for short is what the native population uses. The CUC which stands for Cuban Convertible Peso is what brings in hard currency. We exchanged Canadian dollars 1 for 1 for CUCs. U.S. dollars are technically not allowed but can be exchanged with 10 per cent penalty. During the 90s in the post Soviet era, being caught with U.S. dollars was a jail-able crime.

So here’s how Cuba’s socialist economy works. Almost all the money we pay for our hotels, for example, goes to run the government, pay for universal healthcare, free tuition etc. I am sure there is privileged class in Cuba, but we did not see it. Word is Castro lives in a modest dwelling near or in the Mirimar section, but he does have a swimming pool.

On a smaller scale, we heard a choir one night in Ceinfuegos. At the end of the concert, they sold CDs and accepted donations in CUs for a trip to France. If they raised 500 CUCs, they would be allowed to keep about $20 in

Che is La Revolucion's poster boy

Cuban Pesos. Jorge hated the two currency system for it seems designed to keep the population poor – and down.

But Cuba desperately needs foreign capital and is in limbo because of the embargo. Should it be lifted, much of the risk that scares investors evaporates.

But I did not get the sense that the Cubans are sitting around waiting for Coca Cola and MacDonald’s to reach their shores. One brave soul in Trinidad, a city on the Caribbean, came up to me and said and I quote “People here are very poor. I hate Raul. Maybe someday we’ll be liberated and come to the U.S.”

I shook his hand said good luck and walked away wondering how much his views were shared by his countrymen. It was a profound moment and he was brave to have approached me. We had celebrated my wife’s birthday just minutes earlier at a very upbeat lunch where the restaurant had made a special birthday cake and sung Happy Birthday to her. Truly a land of contrasts!

After 50 years of Castro, one wonders about major differences between U.S. citizen and Cubans. Are Cubans motivated to work hard after so many years of lethargy? Will they take initiative after 50 years of being told what to think and how to behave?

Genuine West Newbury Babe Ruth baseball

The answer seems clearer when you think about those 16,000 Cubans who sneak over every year, leaving everything behind to seek a better life. Risking your life and betting the farm is serious initiative.

But we can’t just throw a switch to end the embargo and expect Cuba to all of a sudden be a capitalistic democracy. Newly private cafeterias and flower sellers is not going to generate hard currency although it seems to send a signal that perhaps Cuba is loosening up.

Lifting the embargo will have to be done in measured steps and many questions will have to be answered. What role will the Cubans in South Florida play if any? Most of the ones I have spoken to do not want to go back certainly not under the present circumstances. And while reuniting families would be positive, it won’t always go smoothly.

But Cuba at its core is culturally an American nation and I suspect most Cubans want free, friendly and easy relations with the 1,000 pound gorilla to the north.

Will the embargo be lifted any time soon? I have no idea and a lot depends on the outcome of the election in November. The U.S. has a 40-person interest section in the Swiss embassy that was established under President Carter in 1977. Enrique with the tour company, who is perhaps the most worldly person I have known, says Castro needs that U.S. boogie man. He was not optimistic.

Ernest Hemingway's Havana house

The Havana Fine Art Museum in Cuba is world class: many of its works highlight the Cuban struggle for humane treatment and sovereignty. There’s modern art, landscapes and portraits of families and women. There’s only a smattering of the muscular arm and fist communist art, but there was one mural of sorts that our host Wilfredo Benitez, who has traveled to the U.S. several times, wanted to show as we concluded our museum tour.

In big letters, it spelled out R-E-V-O-L-U-C-I-O-N across a dozen feet. Some of letters were tattered and others dripped with blood, but there was one overriding theme. As you read left to right, the letters faded. The symbolism was obvious: La revolucion has faded, too. Has the experiment failed? And is free expression more alive that we realized in Cuba? Maybe just for tourists. Benitez was a man of the world, but then curiously said Castro is brilliant.

It’s complicated.

The embargo is an anachronism and it too has failed. Rather, it hardened feelings on both sides and solidified the system it aimed to remove. It placates Cubans in South Florida, but when does the vengeful position  end so both nations can move on? The Castros are going die either way. So what is the point? There is none.

One thing I would love to do is take Jorge to a Red Sox game and have him sit down to   dinner with Alberto, who came here with scarcely the shirt on his back. I think they’d get along and one would hope that their Cuban heritage would conquer other emotions that might surface after a couple of drinks. Both are wonderful people.

I have regular contact with Alberto, but have not heard back from Jorge from the one e-mail I sent him after our trip. I imagine there’s some risk in him responding given reasonably free use of cell phones and e-mail have

El Morro: bad stuff happened here

only occurred recently among those with good jobs. There is Internet in Cuba, but it’s censored, and sometimes by U.S. companies which cannot accept commerce or even free registrations from Cubans. But if Jorge could not answer a question, he promised to consult “Mr. Google.”

I think it’s time to send Jorge another e-mail.

What I tried to do with paper was to give you a flavor of the country and its tortured relationship with the U.S. by combining what I saw and heard with historical perspective and research. It was written for The Tuesday Night Club, a mens’ literary club in which I am member. I read it on Tuesday, April 17, 2012. The subsequent discussion among the members was robust to say the least.

By no means did I capture 50 years of history, needless and large loss of life, suffering, depravation, imprisonment and the agony of shattered families.

But I came to one simple conclusion: it takes two to tango. Shall we dance?

I have been on a work vacation in Florida this week and have used my iPhone hotspot for Internet access. Since that costs $20 a month and it was $30 for a week of the timeshare’s WiFi, I opted for the hotspot. Big mistake.

Verizon Wireless (VW) limits you to a scant two gigabytes a month for the hotspot. It’s grossly inadequate for anyone who needs a reasonable amount of bandwidth for work. VW limitations are punitive and consumer unfriendly. You’re always worried about using too much bandwidth just going too fast on the highway.

Here’s how it went. I got a text from VW three days into the Florida stay saying I have used “at least half” my meager allowance. So I called VW and asked what happens if I went over the allowance.

The VZ customer support said it would be another $20 for one GB. I asked if she could toss a little free bandwidth my way as I knew I would shutting down the hotspot at week’s end. I wanted the two GB to last the week and then I would shut it off.

She said she “wished she could,” but could not. Right.

Exceeding the limit felt like VW giving me a speeding ticket. These limits do not deal with reality of video and what most of us do on the Internet. She said the hotspot should only be used in a pinch…that it was there when there were no alternatives. Oh really? That was the first I has heard that VW hotspot is a last resort. Well, now I know it truly is.

Anyhow, I tried to cut back, but went over my limit today, five days into the trip. Yes, I was pinched by the bandwidth police 12 hours shy of shutting down the hotspot, which is also colossally slow – 313 kilobits per second download speed, according to CNET’s online speed test of my MacBook. And it has a tendency to time out and drop connections.

It’s same with calling minutes. I have 700 minutes and occasionally go up to 800-9oo. But the next level is 1,400 for another $20 a month. Or I can keep the 700 minute level and just pay for penalty minutes when I go over…like $30-$40 for a couple of hundred extra minutes. There’s the VW flashing blue light in the rear view mirror again.

Sometimes, I call and ask for the charges to be removed. I thought I had lost the battle with the last woman I spoke with, but she relented when she agreed that 1,400 minutes meant paying for a lot of wasted minutes given the usage of the four phones on my plan. I kept saying I’d go with the 800-minute plan and she kept repeating there was no 800-minute plan.

VW’s plans are hopelessly complex. Who has the time or wherewithal to regularly monitor usage? No one. By the way, my monthly VW bill averages $180-$190 although the next one should be around $230 from hotspot hell.

I think VW wants you to constantly log into  your VW account to check minutes and bandwidth used. That way, you are thinking about VW – negatively, I might add.

I’ve told my family members no more new discounted phones so I can get out from under the two-year contract. Whichever carrier figures how to provide consumer- friendly plans with the latest phones is going to be a big winner.

Clearly, this is something that has yet to dawn on VW.

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I wrote the following paper in 2002 about my unique history with automobiles for a literary club called the Tuesday Night Club. The paper deeply resonated with members of the all-male club. After all, what guy doesn’t have car stories? I’ve had more than my share. Since 2002, I’ve also owned a completely restored 1967 Camaro RS which falls into the unique category just like the vehicles in the paper. The only picture I have handy is the Camaro, which should get you into an automotive mood.

As I pondered a headline such as “Cars of my youth,” I realized these extensions of my humanity were more than that. These were my youth – and so sweetly remembered without the sting of  nightmarish repairs.

Pardon all caps mode, but that helps when you are reading a paper aloud to a group. Bear in mind I have only done a light edit…

Enjoy! And follow me on Twitter.

WHEN MARTY DOGGETT READ HIS PAPER LAST YEAR ABOUT SOME YOUTHFUL PERAMBULATIONS, I THOUGHT I’VE HAD SOME OF THOSE. MAYBE THERE’S A TNC PAPER THERE.

BUT I HAD ALREADY DECIDED TO WRITE ABOUT THE MIRACLE CURES OF GENOMICS AND PROTEOMICS — THE FABULOUS TECHNOLOGIES THAT I WRITE ABOUT NOW. UNRAVELING HOW GENES AND PROTEINS WORK PROMISE TO PROLONG LIFE AND RID US OF THE WORST DISEASES. ALAS, GENOMICS WILL HAVE TO WAIT BECAUSE I DON’T WANT TO LOSE THE INSPIRATION MARTY GAVE ME ON A TOPIC THAT’S BEEN ON MY MIND FOR A LONG TIME.

MY YOUTHFUL TREKS AROUND THIS COUNTRY ARE IDEALLY EXPRESSED THROUGH THE FIRST SEVEN CARS I OWNED. THESE ODDITIES WERE A PROFOUND PART OF MY BUDGET-CHALLENGED YOUTH. AFTER ALL, A CAR NO MATTER HOW POORLY IT LOOKED OR RAN WAS OFTEN A YOUNG PERSON’S MOST PRIZED POSSESSION.

FOR SOME PEOPLE, GRADUATION FROM HIGH SCHOOL OR COLLEGE  ENDS A CHAPTER IN ONE’S LIFE. OR TURNING 30, 50 OR ENDING AN ILLUSTRIOUS CAREER. THE BOOKENDS ON MY YOUTH – WHEN I SUPPOSED TO BE AN ADULT – WERE FROM 1970 UNTIL 1981 WHEN CARS HAD TO BE CHEAP AND RELIABLE. OF COURSE, THAT MEANT THERE WERE OLD, ODD AND UNRELIABLE.

BUT FIRST A WORD ON WHAT WAS PROBABLY THE PENULTIMATE DECADE FOR AMERICAN AUTOMOBILES, THE SIXTIES. THE BEACHBOYS WROTE SEVERAL SONGS ABOUT CARS AND HOTRODS. THE NATION’S LOVE AFFAIR WITH AMERICAN PRODUCED JAN AND DEAN AND THE LITTLE OLD LADY FROM PASADENA, RONNY AND DAYTONAS WHO SANG GTO AND THE RIP CHORDS WITH THEIR HIT “HEY LITTLE COBRA.”

MUSCLE CARS AND HOTRODS WERE INTERTWINED WITH MASCULINITY AND SEX APPEAL. MY PARENTS THOUGHT ALL THIS WAS NONSENSE WHICH MADE IT ALL THE MORE APPEALING TO ME.  OF COURSE, THAT REBELLIOUS MENTALITY HAS COME BACK AND BIT ME BIGTIME WITH MY OWN KIDS.

CHEVY HAD THE MOST IDOLIZED ENGINES AS EXPRESSED BY CUBIC INCH DISPLACEMENT – THE 283, 327, 396, 427 AND THE GIANT 454  A STAPLE IN   POLICE CRUISERS. THE MOST FAMOUS ENGINE OF ALL WAS IMMORTALIZED IN THE BEACH BOYS SONG “409”. HERE’S WHAT AUTO WRITER BOB WALLACE HAS TO SAY ABOUT THE 409.

“SHE’S SO FINE, MY 409,” WAS ONE OF THE BEACH BOYS’ BIGGER HITS. THE ULTIMATE 409 OF THAT ERA HAD TO BE AN IMPALA SS. THE 409 OF SONG WAS A BIG-BLOCK, POKED AND STROKED VERSION OF THE OLD 348 TRUCK ENGINE WITH A BRACE OF 4-BARREL CARBS PERCHED ON TOP.

DODGE AND PLYMOUTH HAD THE 440 HEMI. FORD HAD A 427, BUT IN 1968 WENT ONE BETTER THAN GM WITH A 428 CUBIC INCH POWER PLANT. AND FORD PRODUCED MILLIONS OF THE POPULAR 390, STANDARD  IN MANY LARGE FORD MODELS.

ALAS, I HAD BUT ONE VEHICLE WITH THESE GAS-GUZZLING POWERFUL PLANTS OR MILLS AS HOTROD MAGS CALLED THEM, BUT THAT DIDN’T STOP ME FROM DREAMING ABOUT DRIVING DOWN HIGH ST. IN A POKED AND STROKED PONTIAC GTO. THOSE CARS TURNED HEADS.

CARS THEN WERE MUCH SIMPLER THEN. THERE WERE NO COMPUTERS, GPS, POLLUTION CONTROLS OR HUNDREDS OF LITTLE MOTORS TO CARRY OUT SEEMING TRVIAL TASKS LIKE CRANK WIPERS ON THE HEADLIGHTS. WHAT’S MORE, REAL MEN WORKED ON THEIR CARS, WHICH TODAY IS A LOST ART. CARS HAVE BECOME TOO COMPLEX AND SPECIALIZED FOR MERE MORTALS TO WORK ON.

I GOT BUG FOR ANYTHING WITH FOUR OR MORE WHEELS FROM MY GRANDFATHER’S FARM EQUIPMENT. HE HAD TRACTORS, JEEPS, TRUCKS, BIG MOWERS AND LOTS INTERESTING AND LIMB-THREATENING FARM IMPLEMENTS. I HAD BEEN DRIVING IN THE FIELDS SINCE I WAS 9 OR 10.

ROMANTIC OR NOT, CARS THEN WERE BLAMED FOR CHOKING POLLUTION AND MULTITUDE OF OTHER ENVIRONMENTAL SINS. BUT FEW CARED IN THE SIXTIES?

I VIVIDLY RECALL JUST ABOUT EVERYTHING ABOUT MY FIRST SEVEN VEHICLES. I GAVE SOME OF THEM NAMES AND WORKED ON THEM WHEN THEY WERE BETTER LEFT ALONE. THE SIXTIES SAW THE ADVENT OF POTHEADS, BUT MY FRIENDS AND I REVELED MORE IN BEING PISTONS-HEADS, ALWAYS TINKERING AND FIXING CARS, DOING DANGEROUS THINGS LIKE TOWING THEM AT 50 MPH WITH A 25-FOOT ROPE AFTER THE BRAKES HAD FAILED. AFTER ALL WHO HAD THE MONEY TO CALL A REPAIR TRUCK AND TAKE THEM TO THE GARAGE?

I BOUGHT MY FIRST CAR – A 1965 CHEVELLE 300 DELUXE – AT AGE 19. IT WAS THE MOST MUNDANE OF THE MAGNIFICENT SEVEN. RAY DAVIS, A WELL-KNOWN LOCAL CHEVY SALESMAN AT YEO CHEVROLET AND BEFORE THAT COLLIS CHEVROLET WHERE LUNT & KELLY IS TODAY, SOLD IT TO ME FOR $900. ORIGINALLY A LACKLUSTER ANSWER TO THE FABULOUS FORD MUSTANG, CHEVELLES WERE MADE BY GM FROM 1964 TO 1977.

CHEVY MADE MORE THAN 6.2 MILLION CHEVELLES MALIBUS AND 300S, ANOTHER 600,000 SUPERSPORTS AND 102,000 CONVERTIBLES. GM’S BEST YEAR WAS 1969 WHEN IT SOLD MORE THAN 600,000 CHEVELLES AND PRODUCED OLD ONE OF THE BEST MUSCLE CARS OF DECADE – THE CHEVLLE SUPERSPORT 396. IT SOUNDED AND LOOKED REAL FINE.

ALAS, MINE WAS NOT THE HOT EL CAMINO HALF-CAR HALF PICK-UP OR THE SIZZLING CHEVELLE MALIBU OR SUPERSPORT.  MINE WAS THE NONDESCRIPT LOW-END MODEL WITH A WIMPY 230 CUBIC-INCH SIX-CYLINDER ENGINE. BOOORING. IT WAS WHAT THE CHEVY BISCAYNE WAS TO THE IMPALA (update: when I bought the `67 Camaro at the Owl’s Head Transportation Musuem auto auction in Aug., 2010, I really wanted a late sixties Chevelle SuperSport…also, too pricey).

STILL IT WAS MY FIRST CAR. MY COLLEGE BUDDY JIM GAGE NAMED HER GERTRUDE. JIM WAS ON THE SAME ODD AUTOMOTIVE TRACK AS ME. HE DROVE A SIMCA, A FRENCH CAR THAT NEVER TOOK HOLD HERE. BRITISH CARS WERE HORRID, BUT FRENCH CARS WERE A DISASTER.

GERTRUDE TAUGHT ME MANY VALUABLES LESSONS ABOUT PATIENCE WITH MACHINERY. SEVERAL MONTHS AFTER I BOUGHT THE CAR IN THE SPRING OF 1968, I RACED DOWN TO SEARS IN SAUGUS TO BUY MY FIRST SET OF CRAFTSMAN TOOLS. WITH AN ENTIRE WEEK’S PAY FROM THE OWENS-ILLINOIS FACTORY WHERE I WORKED SUMMERS, I BOUGHT RACHETS, SOCKETS, SCREWDRIVERS, GAPS AND WRENCHES. I STILL USE THOSE TOOLS TODAY. SEARS STILLS GUARANTEES A FREE REPLACEMENT IF ANY OF THEM BREAK.

WHAT SEARS DIDN’T SAY IS THAT YOU COULD BREAK OTHER THINGS USING THEM. WHEN I GOT HOME, I DECIDED MY OIL COVER BOLTS ON THE TOP OF THE ENGINE NEEDED A LITTLE TIGHTENING. THEY ALWAYS LOOSENED OVER TIME IN THOSE DAYS. SNAP! THAT THREE EIGHTHS INCH RACHET COULD TAKE THE HEAD RIGHT OFF A BOLT IN NO TIME. SNAP, SNAP, SNAP. IN 10 MINUTES, I HAD SEVERED THE HEADS ON FOUR BOLTS.

DAD TO RESCUE. MY FATHER HAD KNACK AROUND MACHINES AND TOOLS. HE ALWAYS WORKED DELIBERATELY AND WITHOUT HASTE. I ADMIRED HIM FOR THAT. WE TOOK GERTRUDE DOWN TO THE BARN AT 20 TOPPANS LANE AND IN THE HEAT, DARKNESS AND MOSQUITOES PROCEEDED TO EXTRACT THE HEADLESS BOLTS WITH A MIRACULOUS REVERSE DRILL BIT KNOWN AS EASY OUT. YOU DRILLED INTO THE CENTER OF BOLT, INSERTED THE EASY OUT, TURNED AND OUT THEY  CAME.

BETWEEN TUNE-UPS AND MINOR REPAIRS, GERTRUDE RELIABLY TRANSPORTED ME TO AND FROM COLLEGE. ONE SUMMER EVENING I THOUGHT HER FINISH LOOKED A BIT DULL. TAKING THE OLD FINISH DOWN TO BARE METAL AND  SPRAY PAINTING THE GLEAMING SURFACE WITH RUSTOLEUM WILL MAKE HER LOOK LIKE NEW, I THOUGHT. JIM GAGE WAS HORRIFIED WHEN HE CAME TO MY HOUSE AND SAW THAT I WAS SANDING THE TRUNK’S SURFACE WITH A CIRCULAR SANDER ATTACHMENT ON A POWER DRILL USING 80 GRIT SANDPAPER. THE GOUGES NEVER CAME OUT AND GERTRUDE NEVER LOOKED THE SAME, WHAT WITH A FOREST GREEN RUSTOLEUM ON THE ROOF AND TRUNK AND ORIGINAL BLUE/GREEN FINISH EVERYWHERE ELSE.

I NEARLY FRIED HER ELECTRICAL SYSTEM WHEN I PUT IN A DC TO AC CONVERTER SO I COULD RUN A REEL-TO-REEL TAPE RECORDER IN THE CAR. THE CONVERTER WENT UP IN A HAZE OF BLEW SMOKE AFTER 24 HOURS, PRECIPITATING  ONE OF MY MANY TRIPS TO AL GOLDBERG’S JUNKYARD TO PICK UP A NEW ALTERNATOR FOR $10 AND USED VOLTAGE REGULATOR FOR $2.

GERTRUDE WAS THE ONLY ONE OF TWO CARS WHOSE ENGINE I REMOVED. IN LATE WINTER 1972, SHE DEVELOPED AN OIL LEAK WHEN THE GASKET ON THE OIL PAN BLEW. REMOVING THE OIL PAN SEEM LIKE GRITTY  UNDER-THE-CAR JOB BUT NOT ALL THAT COMPLICATED. LOOSEN THE BOLTS, DROP THE PAN, SMEAR THE GASKET WITH CEMENT, PUT IT IN PLACE AND REASSEMBLE. I WAS CRUSHED WHEN I DISCOVERED THE PAN COULD NOT BE REMOVED WITHOUT LIFTING OUT OF THE ENGINE. I CALLED GM AND THEIR TECHNICIANS CONFIRMED IT: THE HEART HAD TO COME OUT.

I THOUGHT THIS WAS THE END FOR GERTRUDE UNTIL ON AFTERNOON JIM GAGE BUILT A PULLEY OVER GERTRUDE’S HOOD OUT OF LOGS AND ROPE, AND SAID “JUST DO IT.” THE PIONEER SPIRIT WAS ALIVE AND WELL. IN THREE WEEKS, WE MANAGED TO GET THE ENGINE OUT, FIX THE PROBLEM AND PUT IT BACK. I WAS AMAZED THE CAR ACTUALLY RAN AFTERWARD. IN COURSE OUT THE WORK, THE RADIATOR WAS PUNCTURED FROM A RACHET ACCIDENTALLY THROWN AT A HIGH RATE OF SPEED. A BRAKE LINE BROKE TOO. BOTH WERE EASY FIXES BY COMPARISON.

I SOLD GERTRUDE FOR $150 IN THE SUMMER OF 1972. SHE’S IN AUTOMOTIVE HEAVEN TODAY.

I WAS CARLESS FOR A YEAR OR SO, BUT TOOK THE PLUNGE NEXT WITH A 1966 MERCURY MONTEREY MARAUDER. THIS MAFIA MOBILE LOOKED AS LONG AS ITS NAME AND  WAS FUNERAL HOME BLACK WITH BRIGHT RED LEATHERETTE INTERIOR. LIKE MOST $350 VEHICLES CARS IN THOSE DAYS,  IT WAS IN POOR CONDTION. THEY DON’T MAKE THEM LIKE THEY USED TO AND THANK GOD. IN LAST SUNDAY’S GLOBE, ROYAL FORD, THE GLOBE’S CAR CRITIC, PANNED THE COMEBACK OF THE MERCURY MARAUDER MUSCLE CAR – LOTS OF GROWL BUT NO BITE.

THIS CAR HAD A 390 CUBIC INCH WITH A FOUR-BARREL CARBURETOR, THE ONLY BIG ENGINE IN THE MAGNIFICENT SEVEN. YOU COULD FLOOR IT AND SEE THE GAS GAUGE NEEDLE EDGE CLOSER TO EMPTY. THE CAR CONSTANTLY OVERHEATED. THE BRAKES WERE POOR. THE MUFFLER LEAKED. EVERY BOLT IN THIS CAR HAD BEEN TURNED ONE TIME TOO MANY. IT WAS WILD AND HAPPY RIDE TO AL GOLDBERG’S A FEW MONTHS LATER TO PERMANENTLY DROP IT OFF.

MOM BAILED ME OUT THIS TIME. IN 1973, MY BLESSED MOTHER SOLD ME HER 1971 AUSTIN AMERICA, A BRITISH CAR. A BRITISH CAR? THEY WERE ORDERS OF MAGNITUDE LESS RELIABLE THAN AMERICAN CARS. MOM HAD BOUGHT IT BRAND NEW FOR $1,100 FROM DEALER FRANK INSERO AT THE RTE 1 TRAFFIC CIRCLE. SHE WANTED TO GET BACK INTO VW BEETLES WHICH HAD SERVED HER WELL SINCE SHE DUMPED A 1964 CHEVELLE MALIBU BECAUSE IT WAS TOO BIG. MY DREAM CAR!  I WAS CRUSHED AT THE TIME. THE DIMINUTIVE VW BUG WAS NO HEAD TURNER. THE MALIBU, ON THE OTHER HAND, WAS A POTENTIAL CHICK MAGNET AND LORD KNOWS, I NEEDED ALL THE HELP I COULD GET.

NOW IT WAS 1973. GAS PRICES WERE CLIMBING SO ECONO-BOXES WERE TIMELY AND POLITICALLY CORRECT. IN DIMENSIONS, THE OLIVE-YELLOW AUSTIN, MADE BY BRITISH-LEYLAND, WAS A SQUAT BOX ON TINY 12-INCH TIRES. IT HAD NO POWER, COMFORTABLE SEATS AND MANUAL RACK AND PINION STEERING.

AHHH, THE STEERING. THAT IS THE CENTRAL STORY TO THIS PRECURSOR TO THE YUGO. ONE FINE DAY I WAS HEADING DOWN COMMONWEALTH AVE. AROUND BU AND SIGNALED TO TAKE A LEFT TURN. I TURNED THE WHEEL AND IT AND THE STEERING COLUMN LITERALLY CAME OFF IN IN HANDS. MEANWHILE, I KEPT GOING STRAIGHT. I WAS TRAVELING 20 MPH IN TRAFFIC WITH NO STEERING. MIRACULOUSLY, THE BRAKES DID NOT FAIL AT THE SAME TIME AND I BROUGHT THE RUDDERLESS VEHICLE TO A SAFE STOP. THIS TIME, I WENT FOR THE TOW TRUCK WHICH BROUGHT IT BACK TO INSERO IN NEWBUYPORT. HE ALLEGEDLY FIXED IT BUT THE SAME THING HAPPENED AGAIN. IT WAS TIME TO TAKE MATTERS INTO MY OWN HANDS.

A SPLINE FROM THE STEERING BOX JUST UNDER THE FIREWALL HAD STRIPPED, MEANING THE STEERING COLUMN WHICH FIT OVER THE SPLINE SPUN WITHOUT THE DESIRED RESULT. HMMM…I COULD PAY HUGE SUMS, DO THE SAFE THING AND GET THE ENTIRE STEERING SYSTEM REPLACED. OR I COULD DRILL A HOLE THROUGH THE COLUMN AND SPLINE AND SECURE IT WITH BOLT, WHICH IS WHAT I DID. ON A TRIP TO THEIR HOME IN WILMINGTON, DELAWARE, I REGALED MY GIRLFRIEND’S PARENTS  WITH THE STEERING STORY. THEY WEREN’T AMUSED.

THE OTHER PROBLEM WAS WITH THE BRITISH SU FUEL PUMPS. SIX OF THEM FAILED – THE POINTS THAT ACTIVATED A DIAGRAM CONSTANTLY BURNED OUT. I FINALLY INSTALLED AN OFF-THE-SHELF GENERIC BENDIX ROTARY  PUMP AND NEVER HAD A PROBLEM AGAIN. I SOLD THE CAR TO FELLOW CAB DRIVER LENNIE TREMBLAY FOR $150 AND MADE SURE HE KNEW ABOUT THE WEAKNESS IN THE STEERING. I KEPT MY EYE ON THE NEWSPAPERS FOR A WHILE.

NEXT UP WAS THE WORST OF THE SEVEN, A CANNIBALIZED 1966 VW POPTOP CAMPER. IT HAD A 1971 ENGINE. THE 6-VOLT ELECTRICAL SYSTEM IT WAS BORN WITH HAD BEEN UPGRADED TO 12-VOLTS, MEANING THE ALTERNATOR LIGHT NEVER WENT COMPLETELY OFF.

BUT POPTOP CAMPERS WERE VERY MUCH IN DEMAND AND I HAD MANAGED TO NAB ONE FOR $300. MY GIRLFRIEND (THE SAME ONE) AND I PLANNED A CROSS-COUNTRY CAMPING TRIP. WHAT BETTER VEHICLE TO DO IT IN. IT WAS FLUSH WITH HOMEY AMENTIES: CABINETS, A KITCHEN TABLE AND SMALL DOUBLE BED IN THE BACK. A 4-FOOT SQUARE SECTION IN THE ROOF POPPED UP 2-3 FEET TO LEND AN AIRY FEEL, BUT THERE STILL WASN’T ENOUGH HEADROOM TO STAND UP.

I RIVETED ENLARGED SOME AIR VENTS TO THE ENGINE WELLS TO INCREASE,  PUT ON SOME 16-INCH TIRES ON THE REAR AND TRIED TO REHABILITATE THE CARS GASOLINE FIRED HEATER. YES, GASOLINE FIRED HEATER. IT EVEN LOOKED LIKE A BOMB. IT SAT JUST ABOVE THE REAR-MOUNTED ENGINE. GOD FORBID I EVER GET REAR ENDED – EVEN A LITTLE BIT.

HERE’S HOW IT WORKED. A DIAPHRAM ACTIVATED PUMPED SENT COPIUS AMOUNTS OF GASOLINE INTO A CHAMBER WHERE IT WAS IGNITED. WHATEVER HEAT RADIATED OFF THE  CHAMBER WAS BLOWN INTO THE BUS.

THE UNIT’S THERMOSTAT WAS BROKEN SO I HOT-WIRED THE PUMP TO A SWITCH INSTALLED UNDER THE DRIVERS SEAT SO I COULD TURN IT OFF AND ON AT WILL. ON THE TRIAL RUN, THE HEATER LIT UP (I COULD HEAR THE ROAR) AND PUMPED THICK BLACK SMOKE INTO THE INTERIOR OF THE BUS. IT DAWNED ON ME THAT I WAS PLAYING WITH FIRE AND INNOCENT LIVES. I DISABLED IT ENTIRELY.

THEN IT WAS OFF TO THE WEST COAST. HERE’S CAPTAINS LOG, JULY, 1975.

RTE. 80 IN NORTHERN PENNSYLVANIA…AROUND LOCKHAVEN – OIL LEAKS PROFUSELY FROM WHERE ENGINE CONNECTS TO TRANSMISSION. THIS IS NOT A GOOD START TO THE 7,000 MILE JOURNEY. CAN WE MAKE IT TO COLUMBUS, THE FIRST STOP?

WE MAKE IT TO COLUMBUS. TRANSMISSION SLIPPING AND MAKING A GRINDING NOISE. MECHANIC SAYS I NEED NEW CLUTCH, THROW-OUT BEARING, PRESSURE PLATE AND GASKETS. NO PROBLEM. I’LL DO IT MYSELF.

ENGINE IS REMOVED ATOP A SAWED-OFF GROCERY CART. NEW PARTS ARE INSTALLED AND I SAY A PRAYER FOR JOHN MUIR, AUTHOR OF HOW TO KEEP YOUR VOLKSWAGON ALIVE, ALSO KNOWN AS THE IDIOT’S GUIDE TO VOLKSWAGON REPAIR. HE COULD REBUILD HIS ENGINE ON THE SIDE OF THE ROAD. RELATIONSHIP WITH GIRLFRIEND GOING DOWNHILL MONEY SUPPLY TAKES BIG HIT.

NEXT STOP – CINNCINATI. BUS WAS GETTING VERY LOUD, FORCING GIRLDFIEND AND I TO REPEAT EVERYTHING WE SAID TO EACH OTHER, WHICH WASN’T MUCH. DIAGNOSIS. MUFFLER NEEDED REPLACING, BUT IT WOULD HAVE IN ORDER TO WAIT TO PRESERVE CASH.

SANTA FE – REPLACED MUFFLER. GIRLFRIEND AND I TEMPORARILY DEAF.  ON TEST DRIVE ON SANTA FE’S BACK ROADS, THE BUS STOPPED AS IT SOMETHING IN THE MOTOR SEEMED TO HAVE SNAPPED. TOWED BACK TO JIM GAGE’S DORM AT ST. JOHN’S UNIVERSITY WHERE HE WAS GETTING A MASTER’S DEGREE. I CALLED MUIR’S SANTA FE HOME FOR HELP AND COMMISERATION. HE WASN’T THERE.    DISCOVERED THE FOUR ENGINE BOLTS HOLDING THE ENGINE TO TRANSMISSION HAD ONLY BEEN FINGER TIGHTENED 1,500 MILES AGO IN COLUMBUS. BOLTS TIGHTENED AND WERE BACK ON THE ROAD, HEADED FOR DURANGO. MUCH SILENCE EN ROUTE.

FOUR CORNERS, THE INTERSECTION OF THE NEVADA, UTAH, ARIZONA AND NEW MEXICO BORDERS. AT MESA VERDE NATIONAL PARK, OUR BEST TWO DAYS ON THIS ODYESSY SO FAR, THE CLAMP HOLDING DISTRIBUTOR IN PLACE AND THUS REGULATING ENGINE TIMING COMES LOSE. I AM READY TO LEAVE BUS AND GIRLFRIEND AND WALK QUIETLY INTO THE DESERT.

AS I STRUGGLE TO TIGHTEN A BOLT THAT CANNOT BE TIGHTENED BECAUSE IT IS STRIPPED, VACATIONERS IN STATION WAGONS HOP OUT, STRADDLE THE FOUR STATES WITH THEIR ARMS AND FEET WHILE ANOTHER FAMILY MEMBER SNAPS A PICTURE. I HATED THEM TOO.

NOW WE WERE STUCK. THE ONLY THING TO DO WAS HITCHIKE 50 MILES BACK TO A JUNKYARD IN CORTEZ, COLORADO TO GET ANOTHER CLAMP. HERE WE WERE A- LONGHAIR FROM MASACHEUSETTS WITH HIS HIPPIE GIRLFRIEND HITCHHIKING IN A REMOTE PART OF COLORADO. ALL WENT WELL. THE MOST INTERESTING RIDE CAME FROM TWO HAY HAULERS IN A OLD STAKE TRUCK. THEY BROUGHT HAY TO INDIANS IN REMOTE SETTLEMENTS. THEY WERE VERY FRIENDLY AND HELPFUL. OR THEY SIMPLY DECIDED WE WERE NOT WORTH ROBBING OR MOLESTING.

NEXT STOP: NEEDLES, CALIF., TEMPARATURE: 115 DEGREES. BELIVE OR NOT I’M GETTING TIRED OF THIS. DISTRIBUTOR CAP DEVELOPS A CRACK. ONE HOUR LATER A NEW CAP WE ON OUR WAY ACROSS THE MOJAVE DESERT WHERE WE HAD NOT BUSINESS BEING. 115 DEGREES ALL THE WAY ACROSS TO  BARSTOW WHERE OUR APPEARANCE NECESSITATED SEVERAL STABS AT GETTING OUR ONE AND ONLY CHEAP MOTEL ROOM OF THE TRIP.

IT’S ON TO SF. BUS RUNNING BETTER THAN RELATIONSHIP. STARTER GOES…WE WILL JUMP START IT FOR THE NEXT 3,000 MILES. YOU COULD JUMP HER UP A HILL BECAUSE THERE THE BUS WAS SO INSUBSTANTIAL. BORROW LOTS OF MONEY FROM FRIENDS IN SF AND GIRLFRIEND’S SISTER IN PINEDALE, WYOMING.

EXCHANGED PROMOTIONAL CASINO CHITS SEVERAL TIMES IN LAKE TAHOE FOR CUP OF NICKELS AND MANAGED TO FILL GAS TANK.

THE ONLY OTHER BREAKDOWN WAS A FRONT WHEEL BEARING THAT GROUND TO DUST IN PORT JERVIS, NY ON THE RETURN. WE ARRIVE SAFELY AT HOME IN MALDEN AFTER TWO MONTHS ON THE ROAD. RELATIONSHIP TERMINATES THREE MONTHS LATER. THANK YOU, BUS.

HERE’S THE IRONY. I PUT AN AD IN THE GLOBE TO SELL IT AND GOT THE ASKING PRICE FROM THE FIRST CALLER. AS I HANDED HIM THE KEYS (I HAD FIXED THE STARTER)  I SAW THE SAME EXCITEMENT IN HIS FACE THAT I HAD WHEN I BOUGHT IT. LITTLE DID HE KNOW…FORTY OTHER CALLS FOLLOWED WITHIN TWO DAYS. VW POPTOP CAMPERS WERE VERY POPULAR.

NOW IT WAS BACK TO FUTURE. I BOUGHT A 1964 DODGE DART OFF A GUY’S LAWN IN NORTHERN MAINE FOR $75. GAGE ALWAYS RIBBED ME THAT I PAID TOO MUCH FOR THE CAR. THAT WAS MANTRA IN LAGRANGE, MAINE WHERE HE LIVED. “YOU PAID TOO MUCH.”

THE FACT IS THIS CAR WAS THE BEST OF THE LOT. I GOT 30,000 TROUBLE-FREE UNTIL A CYLINDER BLEW IN IT DURABLE SLANT SIX ENGINE AT 195,000 MILES. WHAT OTHER CAR COULD EVER TRANSPORT ME FROM CAMBRIDGE TO NBPT. WITH NO BRAKES WITH JUST THE THREE SPEED STANDARD TRANSMISSION TO SLOW ME DOWN? THE DART DID AND THAT INCLUDED TOBIN BRIDGE OUTBOUND TOLLS.

I REVELED DRIVING DOWN THE MAIN DRAG IN AFFLUENT BEDFORD, MASS., THE TOWN I COVERED FOR THE LOWELL SUN. IT WAS A HEAD TURNER, BUT IN A DIFFERENT SENSE. YOU COULD SEE THE REACTION IN THE EYES OF BEDFORDITES. “HOW CAN SOMEONE BE DRIVING A CAR LIKE THAT IN OUR TOWN.” IT HAD A LOT OF RUST.

AS WAS MY HABIT, I JUMPED RIGHT BACK INTO FRYING, THIS BUYING A 1971 SAAB 99. THIS WASN’T THE ODD-LOOKING SLOPED BACKED JOB W/ A TWO STROKE ENGINE REQUIRING THE GAS AND OIL TO BE MIX. RATHER, IT WAS A NEW MODEL THAT WAS THE PRECURSOR TODAY’S MUCH LARGER SAABS. WHAT I DIDN’T KNOW WHEN I BOUGHT IT WAS THAT THE ENGINE WAS SUPPLIED BY NONE OTHER THAN BRITISH LEYLAND AND IT WOULD THE POWER PLANT THAT WOULD DO IN THIS CAR IN EVENTUALLY.

IT HERKED AND JERKED IN REVERSE AND FIRST GEAR AND THE BEST I COULD DISCERN IS THAT THE PROBLEM IT WAS COMING FROM THE FRONT WHEEL DRIVE TRANS AXLE. I WAS ABOUT TO VIOLATE THE FIRST RULE OF AUTO REPAIR. NEVER TAKE APART A TRANSAXLE. THE JOB REQUIRES A HALF-DOZEN SPECIALIZED TOOLS THAT EXIST ONLY ON ANOTHER PLANET.. BACK ON THE BARN FLOOR AT 20 TOPPANS, I GINGERLY PULLED THE TRINION JOINT FROM FEMALE RECEPTABLE IN THE WHEEL, UNAWARE IT WAS BATHED IN HUNDREDS OF LITTLE PIN BEARINGS. THEY EXPLODED ONTO THE BARN FLOOR.

DESPERATE TO BREAK EVEN ON THIS JOB, I GOT AT LEAST 80% OF PIN BEARINGS BACK ONTO THE TRINION JOINT. I LIVED WITH THE HERKY-JERKY MOVEMENT THEREAFTER.

I HAD BEEN WARNED THAT THE TIMING BELT WAS A PROBLEM IN THIS CAR IF A DEVICE CALLED TENSIONER WAS NOT PERIODICALLY REPLACED. THE TENSIONER KEPT THE BELT TAUGHT AND RUNNING. AND IF THE TIMING BELT SLIPPED, BROKE OR CAME OFF TRACK, THE PISTONS AND VALVES WOULD COLLIDE, RUINING THE ENGINE.

OF COURSE WITH THE NEW TENSIONER SITTING IN A BOX ON THE PASSENGER’S SEAT, IT HAPPENED. THE ENGINE QUIT WITH A BANG.

NOW, I WAS ABOUT TO ATTEMPT A THIRD ENGINE REMOVAL, THIS TIME SOLO – NO GIRLFRIEND TO JUSTIFIABLY HARANGUE ME OR GAGE TO HELP. WHEN I PULLED THE ENGINE, MY WORST FEARS WERE CONFIRMED. INDEED THE VALUES AND PISTONS HAD MET HEAD ON BECAUSE I COULD ONLY TURN THE CRANKSHAFT ABOUT 180 DEGREES. WHEN I REMOVED THE TIMING BELT COVER, OUT FELL THE TENSION. IT WAS A SIMPLY PIECE OF HARD RUBBER GLUED ONTO A METAL CLAMP.

BTW, THE REPAIR IS SIMILAR TO ONE MANY CARS STILL REQUIRE TODAY. IF WORN TIMING BELTS ARE NOT REPLACED BETWEEN 60 AND 100,000 MILES, YOUR VALVES AND PISTONS COULD COLLIDE. DON’T LET THAN HAPPEN. IF YOU HAVE A TIMING CHAIN, WHICH MOST CARS DON’T ANYMORE, NO NEED TO WORRY.

THE SAAB 99 WAS FINISHED. THIS TIME I BOUGHT A CAR MORE PECULIAR AND BIZARRE THAN THE AUSTIN AMERICA — A RENAULT 12, WHICH ONE  AUTOMATIVE MAGAZINES DESCRIBED AS “A CASKET ON WHEELS.”  LIKE THE AUSTIN, IT HAD NO POWER AND WAS VERY CHEAPLY BUILT. THE DRIVER’S SIDE DOOR WEIGHED ABOUT A THIRD OF WHAT TYPICAL CAR DOOR WEIGHS.

THE CASKET ON WHEELS (NOT BECAUSE IT A DEATHTRAP. RATHER, IT SIMPLY LOOKED LIKE A CASKET) RAN WELL FOR 20,000 OR 30,000 MILES UNTIL PERHAPS THE MOST SPECTACULAR INCIDENT OF MY SEVEN CAR EXPERIENCE.

IT WAS 1980 AND I WAS REHABBING A HOUSE IN IPSWICH, MAKING MANY TRIPS TO GROSSMAN’S IN DANVERS ON RTE. 114. IT’S THAT HUGE TOYOTA DEALER TODAY. LOADED DOWN WITH ABOUT 20 2X4S ON THE ROOF RACKS, I STOPPED AT THE NEIGHBORING MCDONALD’S FOR A BURGER, FRIES AND A SHAKE.

HAPPILY MUNCHED AWAY ON RTE 95, MY FRONT WHEELS LOCKED AT 50 MPH, LAUNCHING THE 2X4S LIKE MISSILES. THE CHOCOLATE SHAKE SPILLED FROM THE CUP WITH GREAT FORCE. IT TOOK ME A COUPLE OF SECONDS TO REALIZE WHAT HAD HAPPENED. FORTUNATELY I WAS THE RIGHT HAND TRAVEL LANE. BUT THEN I LOOKED UP. A BUS AT HIGH SPEED WAS BEARING DOWN ON ME. I WAS GREATLY RELIEVED WHEN ITS BLINKER WENT ON, INDICATING THE DRIVER HAD SEEN ME AND WAS SWITCHING LANES.

MEANWHILE, A GOOD SAMARITAN HAD STOPPED TO HELP AND WAS MORE THAN WILLING TO CRAWL UNDER THE CAR AND TAKE A LOOK. “PUT IT IN DRIVE,” HE SAID. I OBEYED, GOT OUT AND RETURNED TO WHERE HIS LEGS STUCK OUT FROM UNDER THE CAR. THEN IT DAWNED ON ME. NO ONE WAS IN THE CAR, HE WAS UNDER IT AND THE VEHICLE WAS IN DRIVE. FORTUNATELY, THE CAR NEVER BUDGED.

FINALLY, HE ROCKED THE CAR BACK AND FORTH, FREEING THE LOCKED TRANSAXLE. OF COURSE, THERE WAS SOMETHING SERIOUSLY WRONG AS INDICATED BY THE LOUD GRINDING NOISE COMING FROM THE FRONT RIGHT WHEEL. AFTER AFTER A FEW MAD DASHES ONTO THE HIGHWAY, I RETRIEVED ALL THE 2X4S AND LIMPED HOME.

BUT IT WAS TIME TO TAKE STOCK. NEVER AGAIN WOULD I FLY SO LOW TO THE GROUND. I HAD A REAL JOB, A REAL SALARY, EVEN OWNED A HOME AND MORTGAGE.

I LOOK BACK ON THIS CAREFREE ERA WITH GREAT FONDNESS. I GUESS THAT’S WHAT MIDDLE-AGED MEN DO. OWNING THESE CARS REQUIRED SELF-RELIANCE, INITIATIVE AND INGENUITY. ALONG THE WAY, THEY MADE ME REALIZE HIGHWAY OF LIFE IS NEITHER STRAIGHT NOR SIMPLE.

THE LESSON HAD BEEN LEARNED. I BOUGHT A NEW TOYOTA COROLLA.

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The Samsung Charge is the second 4G phone Verizon Wireless (VW) has given me to review and my experience was much like the first 4G phone I reviewed – uncertain.

VW 4G territory is in dark red. Blue arrow points to where I live.

That’s because 4G remains 16-18 miles from my home. So I tested it a couple of times as I neared 4G territory closer to Boston. And 4G is much faster and I would probably spring for if it covered more territory . But I won’t deny my frustration with 3G. Most of the time, 3G will not do a credible job downloading videos so I don’t bother. Sometimes they work. Most of the time, 3G is too slow to be practical (of course, you never know whether it’s the speed of the Internet or the phone’s video processor – many times, the latter I suspect).

As I passed into 4G territory, I was in the middle of a Google search and `snap!,’ it finished (the “3G” indicator on the top of the display changes to “4G”). That was good. To me, 4G seems to take a quick breath, then page loads instantly. But the same thing happened with 4G that happens with 3G: occasionally, it just freezes for whatever reason.

VW bills 4G as “blazingly” fast – up to 10x faster than 3G. And I suspect sometimes it is. It all depends where you are and the strength of the signal. VW voice service, which usually ranks the highest among carriers, has declined a bit in my experience if dropped calls and inaudibility are any indications. Technically speaking, 4G operates at up to 100 Megabits per second, but practically speaking, a 4G smart users gets 5-12% of that that. Regardless, that’s a vast improvement over 1-2 megabit speeds with 3G.

BUT, I presently pay for $30 for unlimited 3G downloads which I believe VW is discontinuing once I change plans. As the chart indicates, VW limits usage and charges $10 per GB after you exceed your cap. With faster speeds, guess what? You’re likely to download a lot more.

The Charge is fine Android 2.2 (aka Froyo) smart phone. Click here for an explanation about Android 2.2. I am an iPhone guy and Android can be frustrating, what with four navigation button’s  versus the latter’s one. I am sure the reverse is true and the few Android users I’ve talked to without exception seem unlikely to defect anytime soon.

Noteworthy about about the Charge is that’s it’s the third cheapest 4G smart phones from VW – $150 for the phone assuming you sign up for the two-year service commitment. The Charge is a lot of  phone for the money. The Samsung Stratosphere at $100 is VW’s second least expensive 4G smart phone while the Pantech Breakout is first at $50. VW also offers a couple of pre-owned 4G phones $100 of under.

The phones 4.2 inch AMOLED display is brilliant and carrying the somewhat over sized smart phone in shirt or pants pocket is not a problem. It’s 5 ounce weight is an ounce or more less than early versions of larger smart phones and it’s not as thick. State of the art semiconductors just get better, faster and smaller.

I recommend this phone, but would hold off for 4G until coverage is everywhere I go. On Jan. 19, VW said it brought 4G to five more cities and that now 200 million across the nation have access to it, BUT it’s still 20 miles away from my neighborhood.

I asked a live chat person (“Lily”) when 4G would come to my town, fully expecting a non-answer. That’s exactly what she gave me: “”Our 4G coverage is expanding everyday.” “That did not answer my question,” I shot back. I asked again and waited a minute or so for Lily to respond and did not hear back. It felt very much like trying to watch a video using the 3G.

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I keep hearing about how everyone is watching video on their smart phones. Then I try to do it and the experience is, well, awful most of the time. Particularly lately.

What’s your experience watching video on a smart phone? Comments welcome…

Here’s mine. The other morning I was trying to download a short Youtube video to my iPhone. I clicked on the Quicktime icon and it never played even though it appeared to download. Was it just slow or was my phone unable to play a .wmv video file? It was probably the latter (there’s an add-on for that), but I, like millions of others, could care less about the cause of the problem. All we know is that we did not get the video we wanted to see.

Forget that the display is too small and resolution often blurry.

Besides slow 3G, there are other causes for vanishing video such slow smart phone processors; incompatible video formats (HTML5 promises to fix this) ; microscopic displays and poor resolution. The experience simply is not good enough. Depending on the mood of my home Wifi, video latency is a problem more often than not on my iPad.

I know the world is going gaga over video. Youtube recently said 2,100 hours of video is uploaded every hour. But playing it on a 3G phone is far from satisfying. Perhaps, Gen Yers and Xers are downloading movies and watching them on smart phones. But that quick, hey, watch this Youtube video just isn’t worth the trouble.

Also, note I said a lot of video is being uploaded. I did not say it’s being watched. Maybe it is. I would love to see a breakdown on which platforms. My choice is a cabled desktop or notebook.

I have a Samsung Charge 4G phone from Verizon Wireless up for review and indeed faster connectivity will help – even e-mail has been slow lately on my 3G iPhone! But to get 4G, I still have to drive 15 miles closer to the greater Boston area to get it. Granted the 4G rollout isn’t trivial, but it  seems slow to me – like watching a video using 3G-:). Since 4G debuted almost a year ago, it can’t be said it’s sweeping the nation.

In the video below is former Ziff Davis colleague Greg Jarboe from Search Engine Watch, In it, he alludes to the volume of video being uploaded. And he describes it in a recent blog post. What’s your video experience on a smart phone.

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Two blue screens of death (BSOD)  in as many weeks: Yikes, is it my under a year old desktop? Windows 7? Some of my apps?

I have no idea if I had a garden variety BSOD this morning, but it sounds like quietly muffled explosion. Like a fire, the screen flashes blue  with a bunch of wispy white text (the smoke), then goes blank, sending the PC into shutdown and reboot mode. It asks me if I want safe mode given it did not shut down properly. Like the rest of world, I say “hell, no”  and it boots up again and usually operates fine until the next BSOD (I have only done one PC system restore ever and it was on this machine three months after acquiring it).

After rebooting, up pops the dialog box holding out a shred of hope: “Windows is checking for a solution to this problem.” Having tried this alleged sleuthing and problem-resolution tool enough times to know it’s useless, my question becomes “Is there a solution to “Windows is checking for a solution to this problem?”" (Yes, you can disable it!)

Now I know the BSOD is not always Windows’ fault, but nonetheless gets the blamed in this household. It could be apps or even the HP hardware, but how in creation would I know? And what does it matter? Here’s a detailed description of today’s BSOD.

“Problem signature:  Problem Event Name: BlueScreen  OS Version: 6.1.7600.2.0.0.768.3  Locale ID: 1033

Additional information about the problem:  BCCode: 116  BCP1: FFFFFA800AD0D4E0  BCP2: FFFFF8800405FC08  BCP3: 0000000000000000  BCP4: 0000000000000002  OS Version: 6_1_7600  Service Pack: 0_0  Product: 768_1
Files that help describe the problem:  C:\Windows\Minidump\101711-22198-01.dmp  C:\Users\JohnDodge\AppData\Local\Temp\WER-50669-0.sysdata.xml
Read our privacy statement online:  http://go.microsoft.com/fwlink/?linkid=104288&clcid=0×0409
If the online privacy statement is not available, please read our privacy statement offline:  C:\Windows\system32\en-US\erofflps.txt”

Anyone care to translate?

I tracked down the attractively named “C:\Windows\Minidump\101711-22198-01.dmp” file and opened it, knowing full well, it would tell me nothing I could understand. It said PAGE a few hundred times and had a bunch of other incomprehensible symbols. Hey, I am just a user, not  a Klingon translator.

I know Flash and Windows 7 are a deadly combination on my Win 7 notebook no matter how many times I uninstall and re-install the former. Flash is just hopelessly unstable on Windows 7…at least, that’s my experience.

In a brief exchange of tweets, ZDNet blogger, Windows expert and former colleague Ed Bott said occasionally Windows does find a solution and said that his experience with Windows 7 has been better than mine. I would add a lot of people “liked” my tweet “I love it when Windows checks for a solution and never finds one.”

Can mere mortals find a solution to a Windows 7 problem using this tool?

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