The Original Old Farts Club

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I turned off the heat on the hot tub and am heading there now...we got near 100 degrees today, 90% humidity...
You get them frogs outta that hot tub boo?
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Here's one for Walt. Tell the wife and kids this is all you want for your birthday, father's day, anniversary, and Christmas.


Gor' bless ya Hippie, but even holding a gun on me won't get me back in a hoppycopter.

There are some basic things about them prohibiting even a split-second's acceptance:

1. It takes both hands and feet... no one-handed easy-peasy like real aerioplanes.
2. A hopticator's wings F A d e into absolutely nothing... zerio, nil, nuffin when the Jesus nut breaks. You hear of autorotation... Yeah. Truth time: EVER SEE A SUCESSFUL ONE? Double truth time: EVER SEE ONE GO DOWN?

3. Landing and taking off in an eggbeater is ALWAYS, ALWAYS accomplished in a cloud of choking, powdered, poisonous dust... or splattering mud... or gunfire. Pick any one, two, or three.

Now a little bitty real plane actual recounting by Himself:

Chugging along in my Cessna 152 Spam Can (incidentally going faster than everything but a Cobra hoppacrasher), the Cessna engine informed me it was done for the day and we should go right home.

Did the Cessna turn on the opposite torque side becuz the tail buzzer ? Nope. (BTW: is that tail rotor thing also susposed to be called a "wing" like they do the rotor blades?)

What did the Cessna do? It flew quietly as I turned and lined up on the runway for a nice, easypeasy landing... with enough elan to taxi-coast off the active.

Would give my left nut and a year in heill to have one of these:

 
I keep a spatula on the steps to the hot tub subbie, smack and flip...I've gotten quite good at dealing with 'em...

look around, we've gotten stranger as time past...nice flower, what is it...
Wish I knew.. popped a bunch of random beans out of a unit thinking they would be photos but ended up all being auto's of who knows what maybe I'll post some other pics of em later. Started seeds mid may.
 
Well, as long as we are on the subject of susprise visits, Herself and Your Humble Obdn't &tc just had a drop-in from Wolfie (my growed-up grandling) and Mattie (his squeeze).

She had never fired a black powder pistol before, so I got out my never-fired Navy 1851 .44 -- set up a target that a DT'ing Thai Horse addict couldn't miss <-- This to assuage my Scottish Witchie-poo.

Fun, but a fargin PITA to re-load in 90F sunshine. So I set up a chopped rubber-filled crossbow target and put the cutie in a chair (inna shade!) with shooting sticks to hold the weight of the crossbow. Cleverly, I let Wolfie gruntsnork pulllll the thing loaded.

Turned on the red-dot and made sure she could see it (story there). The target was placed perzactly 44 yards away <-- Distance to my very last and biggest buck.

She took her time, and... "zook -- WHACK" she nailed the 1" bullseye!

But the payoff was when Wolfie came over and said, "Grampa, I gotta tellya: I am taking Mattie to (I forget where he said) and am going to propose and get her a diamond ring."

I did an Old Lodgeskins:

My heart soared like a hawk!"

Ever kewl. If he ever figures out which arm it's under, mebbe I will live to be a great-grampa after all!
 

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