As of February 25, My Story is Closing, Updates up through February 27

Under the Bonnet with Art or...
The Emperor(1) against the British Cat(2)
(1)“The Emperor of all Maladies”, A Biography of Cancer, Mukherjee, 2010
(2)October 1964 Jaguar E-Type


February 27, 2016
After 10 months of systemic lymphoma, my father took his last breath on February 25th only minutes after the last visitor left the room.  My mother, brother, and I were surrounded all week by family and friends.  Dad was very loved by so many.

Tuesday, March 1st, we will bury Dad in a more intimate ceremony for close friends and family in Ashland.  An open service will be held at 3pm at Duncan Memorial United Methodist Church followed by an open reception at Hanover Country Club.

Dad's friends you read so much about in this blog want to continue this story, so I'm sure there will be many chapters to come.  His very dear friend Christian in Panama prepared his picture and the lovely words added to the right.

The jaguar continues to progress, and his friends will see it finished.  He dictated instructions from his hospital bed just last weekend. The Jag progress photos are on the Page website: (www.pagecustoms.com) or down the right sidebar of this blog.

Thank you all for enjoying his stories, his advice, his insights, and his experience.  So many of you have told us how he inspired you, influenced you, helped you, or pushed you to try something new, be a better person, explore a new and sometimes scary opportunity. He loved adventure, travel, food, and above all, people, family, and friends.  Words fail me to say how much he will be missed.


Mom is asking for donations in lieu of flowers to the Ashland Police Foundation or to the Patrick Henry YMCA here in Ashland.  Dad was a passionate supporter and advocate for these organizations.

One year ago in Panama

Mom would never go on this bridge!

January 19, 2016
Got the results of recent CT and MRI scans intended to benchmark treatment progress today. Good, not great news, both tumors substantially reduced in size (chemo worked) but both sites exhibit some remaining issues. For the abdominal site, a PET scan Feb. 4th will be used to look for metabolic activity. For the brain site another MRI plus lumbar punch to look at spinal fluid plus possibly another needle biopsy. We shall see… feeling pretty good except for a little “chemo brain” and fatigue. 

January 20, 2016
Body work well under way, going up on rotisserie to do bottom of car, IRS unit out, I’ll pick it up next week in difference to coming snow storm.

February 3, 2016

A bit of an adventure, flew to Florida 1/26 to try golf with the FIT (Baltimorons). Day 1, rained out, day 2, 50 degrees with a 15mph wind, lasted 9 holes, day 3 beautiful but I’m clearly very fatigued; played back 9 only on championship course: pared 17 in the Bear trap! Flew home 1/31 very tired. Fatigue plus shortness of breath a little scary; went to VCU ER 2/1, X-ray and CT scan indicated fluid buildup around my right lung; drainage procedure 2/2 yielded 1.9 liters! Partially collapsed lung re-inflated.. Feel better…This probably effected my golf swing.

The guys have insisted that I put the following in the blog; this happened the rainy Thursday in Florida. Back in the room, changing out of golf duds getting ready to go to lunch. Can’t find my cell phone… intense search…asked roommate Dani to call my number. Can hear in ringing, both of us rooting under furniture, can’t zero in. David comes in and joins the hunt. At this point I’m doing a little Irish dance step in a little circle, I can hear it but can’t locate it. Finally I sit up on the bed and David zeros in on first my left foot, then my right; pulling the right off: Success! It’s in my shoe! This has led to endless Maxwell Smart jokes.

My version of events; wore my street sneakers to morning golf, changed into golf shoes in the cart. Put cell phone in my street shoes to keep dry, put shoes on front shelf of cart. Wore golf shoes back to room, didn’t notice phone when I changed shoes in the room. The bottoms of my feet are both very numb (neuropathy is a very common side effect of chemo). All in all, a great laugh!
        

The Jag progress photos are on the Page website: (www.pagecustoms.com) or down the right sidebar of this blog. Changed decision on color…stripping indicates actual original color was opalescent gunmetal…sounds very cool and likely the best answer. Bob plans to use a two stage urethane paint; three color coats and three clear.

Deep background, cancer, friends, family, campfire stories, jokes

British cars, with all their foibles, have been my distraction, not to mention frustration, since the 1960’s. Identifiable scars from past projects include a Morris Minor convertible, MGA’s, Austin Healey’s, a Morgan, an Aston Martin, and Jaguars, E-types, XJ’s, XJR’s, even an S! Relatively late in my fight with cancer, friends have helped me reach back into this reservoir as a way to cope. Philosophically, my goal with these old cars has been stewardship, the cars as happy drivers out on the road where they belong.

Writing this is to share a number of experiences; the first is my experience with cancer, the second is the British cat in the role of therapy dog, and the third is the interaction among family and friends between these.  My words are primarily for cancer patients, their caregivers, family and friends and those poor souls who are trying to restore a British sports car and especially a Jaguar. First, let me provide background to catch everybody up to date.

The cancer started in the 1990s as a little red rash on the inside of my left calf and quickly evolved into clusters of rings that led to years of misdiagnosis. An early  indication that this was something relatively unusual occurred during a kayaking break during an engineering meeting in Saint Mary’s, Maryland; my legs should have gotten a good sunburn, but the only thing that burned and peeled was the “rash”… like a snakeskin.

Eventually another symptom appeared.  I was on the floor of my garage and pushed off the floor with my right hand, I felt a sharp pain in my wrist.  I was working on one of two Austin Healeys I had around at the time, this one being a 61 BT7. Mycosis Fungoides (MF) or cutaneous T-cell lymphoma can cause solid tumors on the skin, and that little ping in my wrist became a little sore bump, and that quickly blossomed. MF is so named because the tumor looks like a mushroom, as with a cap and stem. Well, no, not exactly, it looks like half a skinless over-ripe Hanover tomato stuck on your wrist. Wet and leaking blood and serum, mushroom boy is hiding inside the tomato.

In this situation you become an expert at wound management.  I sat through a lot of business meetings quietly trying to manage the leaking. This went on for a year without diagnosis.

Finally, I was invited to an annual meeting of Richmond area dermatologists where they collectively discuss problem cases. A hand went up in the back of the room: “I think I know what this is!” It turned out he was right, but it took a couple more months of blood tests to confirm the diagnosis that I, as a lay person, thought a bag of hammers could figure out. The hand belonged to Dr. Kenneth Blaylock who soon became a trusted advisor.

In its cutaneous form this problem was a job for the radiation guys at VCU, Dr. Chang, then Chung, now Song; six gamma shots to the tumor on my wrist (I got my first and only tattoos; dots for targeting); followed by sixteen electron beam whole body treatments to back down the estimated fifty per cent of the skin surface involved.  This was an interesting process: arrive, undress, tape lead discs over your finger and toe nails (“this can blow your nails right off”), and discs to protect your eyes. You stand on a rotating lazy Susan as you hold on to an overhead trapeze while they treat you to the electron beam (I’m tall, so it took upper and lower sessions). This was followed by roughly forty separate treatments to knock back persistent localized areas. The most problematic was on my left eye lid. This lead to a bet with the radiologist over whether my eyebrow would survive. Hair loss had been relatively complete up to that point. I claimed that the eye brow was radiation proof. They fabricated a face mask to protect other parts and a cup to protect the eye itself and proceeded with treatments - I won! But it took a year to collect my bottle of Scotch. Probably broke a few rules.

December 9, 2015

A few comments here for new cancer patients. With radiation the eyes are not directly exposed and you keep your eye lashes. Later I noticed that folks in chemo had lost their eyelashes, as I have now. General hair loss seems to be unavoidable. This can startle even friends; I had a good friend spot me across the room at a business meeting, start towards me then abruptly stop and turn away without speaking. He later apologized and said he just couldn’t face me. Other radiation effects would likely depend on the treatment specifics. For me, the whole body exposure was shallow 1 cm or 3/8 in. or so. Lost sweat glands, oil glands, created leaks in the capillary system, body couldn’t adjust to elevated temperatures. After more than ten years these systems are still sorting themselves out.  

 Bottom line: radiation brought the cutaneous form of my T-cell lymphoma under control. Maintaining control involved a combination of treatment with UV light (remember the early sun burn experience) and a topical steroid ointment. “An indolent cancer, won’t metastasize, may go systemic at some point, something else will kill you.” Primary preventive treatment: weekly 10 minute sessions in a tanning booth! (Tanning tip: use stand up booth; Lay-down leaves untanned light blotches where your skin is touching the glass).

A moment for digression: As the radiation phase wrapped up c.2002, I tried skiing (my friends and I had gotten into down-hill several years prior). This time, skin very weak, ankles blistered badly during a brief attempt at Wintergreen. Next attempt, Utah. VCU provided a variety of wraps such as those to protect burns. Made some easy runs in Park City, no luck, blisters half the size of eggs! Skin very weak and peeling. The morning after the Park City skiing attempt, while washing up, my right ear peeled in one complete piece. For a moment I truly thought my ear had come off! Time to forget skiing and take charge of base camp food and drink management!

Utah trip was a preamble for the northern Italian dolomites six weeks later. Got there, did a three hour ski into a convenient bar; ankles were okay! Ran the “Sella Rhonda” the next day. Twenty seven kilometers, no repeats, seven hours. Did it! I knew was going to be okay. At that moment, life was pretty good; after the successful skiing, we took a train down to Florence. Taking in the art in Florence is like drinking from a fire hose, but a trip to Rome a couple of years later actually left me with two more memorable impressions: stand in front of the Pieta in St. Peter’s (do this when it’s not crowded or just buy the postcard) and envision that a man walked up to this rock with some very simple hand tools and chipped away everything that wasn’t Mary cradling the body of Jesus in Her lap. The second is the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel; focus on any individual panel and there is a similar sense of wonder; take in the whole work and it’s Las Vegas on the ceiling, too busy!  To experience such works makes today’s bling and noise pale to something less than the status of children’s entertainment. An interesting perspective: young Italians have shared is that they feel trapped by the constraints of effectively living in a museum. Maybe a better feeling for contemporary Italy would be dinner on a quiet Tuscan hilltop with family and friends, eating something like ripe figs sitting in a puddle of honey and stuffed with gorgonzola cheese, sipping on a glass of good wine. Relax, as they say, this probably shouldn’t even be a country! 

The next ten years or so were relatively quiet. Then the T-cell bad guy apparently decided to demonstrate what “systemic” means. “Floaters” in my eyes came on relatively suddenly. A trip to my eye doctor lead to a same day referral to a retinologist. Their sonogram of eye interior revealed a slowly rotating ball of detritus more than half the diameter of the eye. His recommendation was Duke or UVA and an ocular oncologist! At UVA I met my new best friend, Dr. Eugene Shildkrot. Sharp dresser, competent –a lot more testing, confirmed by NIH, showed T-Cell lymphoma in both eyes. Their big concern; eyes are an opening to the brain and spine, but spinal tap and MRI looked good. Surgeries, vitrectomies, cleared both eyes, both are still perfectly clear at his writing. Miracle Number One! Eyesight saved!

Then solid tumors came in a relative rush. Working with Dr. Blayloch I had one last persistent spot on my skin treated with additional radiation and then scheduled a PET scan to see if any active cancers showed up. Very bad news: a golf ball sized solid tumor was sitting on top of my right adrenal gland. First thought, surgical removal; VCU’S Dr. Amy Grover determined this would be too risky. After some discussion as to whether it was an adrenal or lymphoma tumor, it was decided to perform a CT guided needle biopsy. Second Miracle, first scan to position me for the procedure revealed that the tumor was gone! Party time! Still don’t have a medical explanation. Bad news returned in the spring of this 2015; I was working on improvements to an investment casting foundry, blamed my unusual discomfort on over-cooked calamari. Tumor over adrenal gland was actually back; but much larger. This time it is chemo’s turn, VCU’s Dr. Beata Holkova. Had PICC line installed in my upper arm, I think this may have been a mistake and maybe I should have gotten a port in my chest. PICC limits many activities; apparently port has similar risks but fewer limitations. A part of getting set up was a biopsy of my bone marrow. Bent the sampling needle; “you have the bone marrow of a twenty year old”; this was some needed good news, I attribute this to 2% Neanderthal identified in my DNA family history analysis.  Started chemo infusions with gemcitabine.

First chemo, May 1, our 50^th wedding anniversary. After a couple of treatments tumor appeared to be shrinking very quickly. But, after a brief pause, things headed south; June and July have become a bit of a blur. Tumor grew aggressively, pressing on liver hard enough to compress bile ducts, lost liver function. Urine color of strong iced tea, jaundice; at age 72, my first in-patient hospitalization. Since I had a choice, I elected to check into VCU’s Gumenick suites. If you have to go, this is the way to go; four star hotel-like accommodations, private chef, very quiet. Too bad you’re sick.

To open the bile duct, a stent was installed using an endoscope through my mouth! Success! But associated scans showed a blood clot on my portal vein. Started blood thinner shots in my belly (ouch!); switched to more aggressive CHOP chemo cocktail. Scans also suggested something in the upper lobe of my right lung. Another CT guided needle biopsy, false alarm, but procedure left a painful pneumothorax, an air bubble in the chest cavity. Next came stroke-like symptoms on my left side. Thought it was infection, added antibiotics but later scan actually revealed second tumor at the bottom of the brain. Very, very bad news. Another needle biopsy through a scalp incision and hole drilled through the top of my skull. The incision stitches quickly became the most painful thing to date; T-cell again confirmed. Scan also revealed subdural hematoma, stopped blood thinner. Things getting complicated.

Scary time; couldn’t think straight; needed a walker; couldn’t write, third type of chemo started; high dose methotrexate. Very strong, requires in-patient infusion, doubled down on chemo, alternating these treatments with CHOP. (Note: completed sixth, last, CHOP on Nov. 10, last methotrexate December 30, 2015)

During my first hospitalization, therapy “dog” came to visit. Great idea but this one had 6” legs and snout. They swore it was a Labrador. I thought “pot-bellied pig”! Still very friendly, but this was apparently his first rodeo, jumped in the trash can; wife had a tick on her after they left!

Things have recently settled down except for the on-set of adult thrush, a yeast infection in my mouth; very common with chemo. A little adventure October 20; went to emergency room with temperature of 102.5! Procedures included ultrasound of PICC line, CT scan of head, chest X-ray, blood and urine samples and testing. Diagnosed as pneumonia; admitted to hospital; put on IV and oral antibiotics. Advised the next morning that the problem was definitely not pneumonia. There was a large blood clot around PICC line. Also subdural hematoma has been resolved; time to restart blood thinner shots (ouch!). Antibiotics apparently brought adult thrush back. Needed to move PICC line from right to left arm.

Early in this round, a friend sent me a card that says a lot, paraphrasing:

“Nothing can mess with your life like illness” and

“Nothing can help like the support of family and friends”

To that I would add “Attitude is a choice.”

 

 

Ring the bell - last chemo!                                In-patient fellowship on New Year's Eve!

Christmas Lunch!

Family and Friends

          One thing we all have in common is that all of us are still married to our starter wives or equivalent; likely the most challenged couple was an Italian and a Sicilian! Put that in a bottle and shake well! But we are all good. My wife and I (English and Scotch-Irish) celebrated our fiftieth anniversary earlier this year and even after fifty years, the challenges of this year have strengthened and deepened our bond. Despite her English ancestry she is the stronger person, she is there for me; she tolerates and manages the little boy that lurks just beneath the surface. I would be lost without her. I attribute her strength to her family. Jerry and her sister are one step out of Appalachia (Hiltons, VA). Her mother, Bernice, “Bunny”, was one of seventeen children raised in a three room cabin on a bluff overlooking the Holston River; no electricity, no indoor plumbing. Her mother at five feet tall played high school basketball! At her funeral, a six foot plus teammate described a game where “Bunny ran right between my legs!”

          Later, lost in Alzheimer’s she helped us learn a couple of important caregiving lessons: it’s okay to lie and it’s important to keep your sense of humor; on one occasion her mother had fallen and Jerry took her to the Emergency Room to get checked out, while they waited, her mother kept looking at a sign listing the doctors on duty: Jim Smith, MD, Judy Green, MD, etc. Finally she asked, “How can all those folks be from Maryland?!!

          Our family tradition is that we were chased off the Scottish Isle of Skye to Ireland by the English and then immigrated to Pittsburgh, PA; North Park was our family farm. McKinney Road runs through the park. We raised pigs. Most recently, the last remaining building, a barn, was used to house police horses. A couple of years ago, I visited the cemetery at the old Crossroads Presbyterian church in Gibsonia; I am the eighth generation here and there I was surrounded by six of the preceding seven; the first, William, died in 1802. Number seven, my father, is buried in Carlsbad, CA. In retirement he had pursued his second love, an ex-nun, to California. For us, we started out as Presbyterians but a generation ago or so, we fell in with German Lutheran girls (Reichold’s), but that’s too long a story.

Two weeks ago my mother’s sister died at age 95 with no drama. This brings to mind a cautionary thought. Mother gave up an aspiring career as a ballet dancer to care for her mother who was ravaged by diabetes. To do the best she could, she went to nursing school, becoming a RN. Mom died at age 56 having made some poor choices for coping with the stresses of a nursing career. Her last job was emergency room nursing supervisor at Fairfax County Hospital. Nurses are very special people but need to remember to take good care of themselves.

December 10, 2015

         My father passed away some years ago having beaten cancer but not congestive heart failure. Like my mother’s dancing, Dad had an artistic side, he sang opera in community productions. His first job out of high school was in the quality control department of Meadow Gold Dairies in Pittsburgh. Eventually he tired of all things milk and learned to fly. Purchasing a large format Fairchild F-8 aerial camera, he started an aerial photography business. We have a trunk full of photographs of every new building, bridge or similar Pittsburgh project c.1930’s. He lost his license for flying over a nudist colony snapping pictures (yes, I have them, very blurry). Actually, they pulled his license, not for naked people, but for flying 50 feet above the ground! This launched a career with the government, first CAB, later the FAA as an aircraft procurement project manager.

          My family and friends have been very giving of their time. The kids helping Mom and being there. It may be hard to understand how important just being there is. Animated conversation is appreciated but not necessary, just be there.

My friends trace our bonds back to maybe a little business; in a couple of cases, maybe a lot. But the real stuff, the stuff we talk about around the campfire involves much good food and wine, downhill skiing in the East, West and Europe, Class VI white water rafting and finally defaulting to golf as knees, hips and backs asserted their dominance. We do not talk about all the great days at the office! Golf has taken some of us home to Scotland and Ireland. This brings to mind my basic thoughts on ownership vs stewardship; the only thing we actually own are our memories. The Chronicles of Dani starts to explore the good ones.

The Dani Chronicles and More: something for my friends; campfire stories…

We’ll start with what I think of as the “Flomax episode”. A late winter golf trip to Florida had been started by the “Baltimorons” originally as the FIT (Friends in Trouble) Tournament, to support Two Baltimore gents who needed the support of friends. Starting at Doral, but tiring of the airplane noise, FIT later moved to PGA National after adding our Richmond group.

On one trip to Doral, Dani had had some medical issues and had just started several new prescriptions, Flomax included (that’s just the one that I happen to remember).Most said don’t mix with alcohol. Dani apparently took this as challenge. After a night of serious fun followed by Dani’s version of the breakfast of champions, we were on one of the interesting par fives with a split green, most of us were in the same zip code as the green. Dani was back, short, to the right in a deep bunker. We saw him hit out okay then climb out to get a rake, his idea was to stay up on the lip and reach in to rake. What happened next was a full forward flip into the bunker; all golf shoes skyward and a big spray of sand. We responded with a full scale intervention, including an audit of his medicine cabinet and liquids intake. I offer this as a cautionary tale.

Dani down in flames. We’re in the Tyrolean Restaurant in Vail and Dani was demonstrating the contractor’s version of the statue of liberty drink (“normally” dip one finger into your glass of Sambuca, light with the table candle, hold it up like Liberty’s torch and shoot the drink, put your finger out in your water glass, the contractor version uses two fingers) The excess liquid caught his sleeve on fire! He managed to top off this spectacle by going into the ladies room to clean up.

Dani navigates deep water. Dani decides to violate white water rules I, 2 and 3: never get out of raft. We are at the top of a class V drop called Pillow Rock on the Upper Gauley River when he exits into the water. An eternity later he surfaces in the flat water below the drop (didn’t lose his paddle!). He reported his primary concern while under water had something to do with insurance being paid up.

Again, Skiing in Italy for the first time, Dani is well ahead of the group and, as we check up on a bench to look at our trail map, we watch Dani, below us, take an irreversible turn to the right. Eventually we find him at a trail side shrine. This probably saved him from retribution, his route took us down a very icy, narrow half pipe! But we did end up in a quaint little village for a lovely lunch of fettucine carbonara.

In Vail, envision Dani struggling in the deep snow under the lift at Lionshead looking for his dropped gloves while young women in the lift above yelled “Yo, Studmuffin”!

December 28, 2015

Recently, over lunch, Dani outed himself as surfing dude. On an elevator, taking luggage down to the parking deck, Dani jumped on the luggage trolley saying “you could surf this thing”! As the elevator doors opened onto a ramp into the deck, Dani launched (he claims he was pushed); likely not his first concussion, nor his last, but luckily his good doctor son-in law was there to get him to treatment. Dani further admitted to screening the mail for the next year for insurance statements that would alert Bobbie, loving wife, to his latest adventure. 

Not that other team members were immune. Big Al used the crossed warning sticks above a deep ditch in China Bowl as his target line. He simply disappeared into the deep snow. Of course, Al was okay. Al doesn’t break parts, he simply wears them out.

The Foibles of Big Al (1/7/16)

The guys seem to have been impressed at my recollections of the many fine meals we have enjoyed together. Al was one who never had to rely on memory, he can just look down at his shirt and take inventory. Al has been serially clumsy with food and drink over the years. Many incidents involved wine, red of course, but a memorable one was dessert one night; he was wearing a brand new,  white, après ski sweater and was actually looking stylish (a gift from Gwen). The whole table panicked when Al ordered chocolate pudding for dessert (even though the average radius of unintended dispersal was generally limited to Al’s person). Al’s vigorous denial of a problem lasted all the way to his second or third bite. Damage was limited to the front of the sweater. Luckily the condo had a washer/drier and Al quickly demonstrated a domestic side unknown to the group.

          On another occasion, Al launched a real disaster. We were riding back from Fredericksburg and stopped at KFC for a late carry out lunch. I was driving my very nice Jaguar XJ6 sedan which happened to be equipped with a built-in radar detector. Al had his portable unit along with idea of testing which unit was the more sensitive.  To set the stage, Al had clipped his detector to the sun visor and he had a super-sized big gulp of iced tea nestled between his legs. As a police cruiser pulled up behind us at a stop light in Ashland; Al reached up to grab the detector off the visor; upending the drink bucket into the Jaguar front seat and his lap! Al remained reasonably calm considering the chill.

Skiing Europe, our first trip (1/12/16)

 Dani asked me to add this tale. We stayed in a nice hotel with an all Italian staff just off the central square in Interlaken, Switzerland. We would be skiing the Jungfrau region. The top is above 13,000 feet. To get up the mountain you take a train over to the base, then a scenic cog train up the mountain passing through the village of Wengen to the Jungfrau base at Kleine Scheidegg. (I later learned that the Wengen area was a favorite summer hiking area of some Ashland friends, Charley and Ann.

Day one was very foggy. Visibility was maybe 50 yards. These are very big mountains with large, wide open, not well marked slopes. The edges of the safe ski area are marked by stakes a 100 or so yards apart. The stakes have alternating red and white bands, wide bands for the right, narrow on the left, or was it the other way? The right thing to do was hire a guide, Rudee was our man and we spent the morning skiing by the braille system following Rode’s bright red ski suit. Eventually, Rudee guided us into his favorite bar in Wengen for lunch. After a great meal and much fellowship, Rudee suggested we sample the Grappa selections, over came a cart with 27 choices! Kind of a set up but the team good naturedly accepted the challenge (if you haven’t tried Grappa, it is something of an acquired taste), one or two were actually okay. Rudee got us on the cog train at the Wengen station and we survived ski another day. The next day was severe clear and we checked out what was beyond the stakes… a dead vertical drop of thousands of feet! Rudee was a good choice.

 More Skiing stories: (1/8/16)

Later we made a day trip by train from Interlaken to Zermatt. Zermatt is incredible, a 7,800 foot vertical (Vail is about 3,800, Snowshoe’s Cupp Run, 1,800). With the Matterhorn in the background, you start up on huge, 100 plus person, gondolas in Switzerland, and with the third lift crossing 600 feet above a glacier, entering Italy through a tunnel cut through the mountain top. The top 2,000 foot vertical takes you back into Switzerland. As usual Dani screwed up just getting on the lower gondola station in the village; he ran ahead in the crowd, got separated and we didn’t catch up until mid-afternoon near the mid-station rest area. Dani shared another “stud muffin’” story of his encounter earlier that day with a rope tow (picture a large athletic Italian off his skis being dragged up the slope clinging desperately to the T-bar). 

Mid-station was a pretty cool stone edifice serving cheese and potatoes (rosti) from big iron kettles and wine by the pitcher. Walked out and encountered a dog sled and team (where are we?).

Had a good ski, then started down, time tight, if we miss the train, we are spending the night. I am trying to shadow Dani; Eddie is staying with me. Dani and I are at the jelly-legs stage. Skiing down these big mountains in Europe, you pass through quaint little villages. This leads to some non-skiers on the slope. A young man on a bike on his way to a library is crossing diagonally in front of Dani, who yells “can’t turn”, as he collects the boy and his bike in his arms. By my estimate, Dani made it upright about 100 yards carrying the boy and bike before crashing.

This justified a quick beer in a nearby bar despite the tight time. We did make the train.

We all had a thing about rope tows (T-bars). The scariest was near the Jungfrau at the base of the Eiger mountain face favored by climbers. The tow is up a very steep diagonal ledge. The T- bar is a tandem two person affair. The track is very narrow, mountain on the left, a drop of hundreds of feet on the right. Dani and I were teamed up, the difference in our size caused a persistent drift to the right! And an eternity to reach the top.

David’s son Chris decided to channel his Uncle Al and Dani at the same time and launched first down the steep pitch. Chris remained very visible wearing a bright yellow ski suit with matching hat, gloves, skis and poles.  Finally, far down the slope, we detected a burst of yellow and later found Chris safe but scattered all over the mountain.

Back in the US, our other friend David provided an unexpected laugh.. After three days skiing heavy wet snow at Lake Tahoe, David and I decided to go snowmobiling. At check in, you have get sized for your jump suit, helmet and boots. Behind the counter was a very cute young woman, David is like thirty years younger than me and a good looking guy. We are both over six feet. She asks David how tall he is and he answers “6’-2’”. Looking slightly down at David, I commented, “David, I don’t think I’m 6-2”.Without hesitation the young lady held up her thumb and forefinger less than an inch apart and said “I’ll bet he thinks this is six inches too!”. David’s blush was like a beacon in the woods, I hurt myself laughing.

A chance encounter in a Houston bar. 

Jay had us on a bar tour of the Woodlands on Houston’s north side. At one bar, I fell into an interesting conversation with a young lady who said she worked for a company developing a new approach to hearing aids. Naturally, I said “Huh”? To explain, she wrote the following on a napkin:

 “—a- -oe- --i- -a-“?.... and then….. “wh-t d—s th-s s-y”?

 The first is a sentence with only the vowels and the second is the same sentence with only the consonants. The latter didn’t take Vanna White to figure out. The point being how much better we can interpret consonant sounds. Their device doesn’t just suppress background noise and amplify everything else, it emphasizes the consonant sounds. Interesting.

A couple more bar tales…

Utah, Deer Valley, light rain… tried Park City’s slightly higher elevation, still rain… okay, try Alta, much higher…snow! Alta is steep, un-groomed, big boy skiing. After watching Al do his ballistic thing and his brother David executing a full forward somersault on skis…impressive, if that had been what he intended to do…I elected to solo down to the bar at bottom of the hill.  Nice bar, I was alone but relatively quickly attracted a group nice looking women (this never happens to me!). Turns out that several of them went to Douglas Freeman HS with AL and his siblings! I think one had even dated AL! You can’t make this stuff up!

What is it with Freeman? David and I ran into a classmate of his on a cable lift tour of the rain forest canopy in Panama!

Anyway, the ladies coming over to chat reminds me of a bar encounter of my friend Frank, a USDA bug guy, el mano negro, a government fixer, very macho, 101^st Airborne ’Nam Vet… his ‘Nam story…woke needing to pee, deemed the latrine too far, walked over to camp perimeter to take care of business. Dark… something popped up in front of him, perceiving an existential threat, he proceeded to try to puree the miffed, wet cobra with his assault rifle! He says the snake ended up in fourteen pieces! Of course, this action launched the camp’s total perimeter defense measures (think something like the fourth of July on steroids!). The camp commander was not impressed, but back the bar story…

Frank walks into a nice airport establishment and sits at the bar, shortly a stunning young woman comes in, glances around, spots Frank and immediately comes over and sits next to him and opens a conversation. After more than an hour of pleasant chatting, she announces she has to catch a plane. As she gets up, Frank asks “There were a lot of guys in here, how did you choose me”? Her reply “Because you looked safe”! The thud was Frank’s ego hitting the floor! Interesting bar strategy, Ladies.

          Now, a few team stories: white water rafting was another big thing; we did this for about ten years, Big Al got it started with a small group of four but this quickly evolved into a major event. The venue was West Virginia’s Upper Gauley River during the fall drawdown of the flood control lake behind the Somerville dam, Aug. 15 to Oct. 15 each year. The Dam release assures river flows. NOTE: Dams are normally named after towns flooded out, in this case Gad, WVA. Gad Dam just didn’t feel right to most people so the name of next closest town, Somerville was chosen. In any event, our evolved program typically had 36 to 40 participants so I rented a bus and driver, meeting in Ashland for Thursday lunch and getting to Red Oak, WVA in time for dinner. Up early Friday at the outfitters, wet suits, etc. On the river by 7 or so, all done by 4; 16 mile run, five class V’s, late afternoon BBQ at outfitters then a bus ride Friday night and home for the weekend! Perfect! And you feel like you’ve been gone a week!

Two related dinner stories:

As our bus pulled up to the Holiday Inn at Red Oak, we were met by soldiers in full dress, they shared that they had a recruiting banquet all set up but no one had shown up, if our group would listen to their pitch dinner was on them! So our ragged group of relatively old grayheads enjoyed the young men’s entreaties, we thanked them for their service and enjoyed a fine, free meal.

On another occasion our driver was a gentle giant of an off-duty, black police officer. We had tired of the Inn’s offerings and wanted to find a good steak house. With our driver volunteering the bus, eight of us headed into the West Virginia night. The first place we came to was a somewhat run down road house One of the guys went in to check the place out, returning to inform us “I don’t think they serve black people here”. To which the driver good naturedly rumbled “that’s okay, I don’t eat black people”! We continued on, spying a big steakhouse sign in a strip retail center, the steaks were pretty good but the high point was the waitress telling a joke about seeing a lady in a Kroger store trying to keep her shopping list straight by grabbing various body parts.

Back at Vail, we had rented a third floor condo across the road from the Lionshead lift. Access to our unit was an open exterior stair and balcony. It was cold: 10⁰ F.The hot tub out in the yard looked good. An excellent bottle of wine did much to offset the fact that our hair was freezing solid! After enough of a good thing we headed back to condo, wet, cold, getting windy. Got to the door, NO KEY! Not true panic but a very real stampede back to the hot tub. Eventually, someone volunteered to go the office for a key.

For all the Vail references, our favorite place to ski has been Deer Valley, Utah. However, one last Vail story, actually a joke told by Charlie, a Richmond hospital administration officer who joined us for one of the early trips.

We had skied hard and the next day, we awoke to Charlie complaining loudly of sleeping poorly, having had a horrible dream and something stuck in his throat, all the while coughing persistently. This continued through getting dressed, the drive to and getting settled at the restaurant for breakfast; at this point everyone in the restaurant had become fully aware of Charlie’s condition…horrible dream, etc; finally one of us asked, “Charlie, what the heck did you dream?” Charlie coughed and sputtered” It was horrible! I was having oral sex with a chicken” and…coughing heavily into his hand, he released a cloud of feathers he had concealed there, across the breakfast table. The entire restaurant literally disintegrated!

December 14, 2015

Eddie’s Story

         Some memories are tough, maybe best tucked away, but I have been encouraged to reflect on some of those unhappy events that bind our group, it may be a little trite but life is not a video game; Dani lost his architect son-in law, leaving his daughter and two young grandchildren without a husband and father. Kirk lost his oldest son, and I have never seen such profound grief. But our friend Eddie was simply one of us, one the good guys, white hat and all. He was the older but just by a few years. He always did act a little older, the wise voice avoiding the train wrecks a bunch of boys can generate. He was the smoothest skier, not ballistic like Al, if you wanted a fast civilized run, follow Eddie down the hill. This gave rise to the term “ski amoeba”, as our whole crowd tried to run in Eddie’s tracks. Then one fall morning, Eddie drove down to Richmond’s Poe Museum parking lot, parked and committed suicide, leaving a wonderful wife and beautiful eight year old daughter.

 There is no understanding, no digesting this, this was one of us. Eddie was a hard worker, growing up tough on a dairy farm and working in the steel fabrication business. He did have lifelong issues with depression but this was never in the foreground. There were some serious investment setbacks that drove him into simply trying too hard. The harder he tried, the worst things got. Our group could see this and worked to provide what support we could. For Thanksgiving his family headed down to Duck to be with the grandparents. Eddie decided to follow them by a day to get in a little more work. Eddie would be alone for dinner. Gary volunteered to take Eddie out to eat. As they left Applebee’s that night, Gary said a third person walked out with them, starting an earnest conversation which quietly lead to a reciting of the sinner’s prayer together. When they finished the prayer, no one else was there except Eddie and Gary. Redemption is an interesting word. Eddie was a good man, God reached out and touched him. We are all blessed that Gary was there to share this with us,

Gary was Eddie’s protégé’ in his specialty steel business and went with me to Korea to help me put together the post-tensioned vehicle impact barrier for Samsung.  Serious young man, good to work with.

Eddie had an iconic ski hat like a raccoon’s face. At the funeral we asked his daughter if we could have the hat. She agreed. We took the hat to Deer Valley, Utah and placed it under a stone cairn at the top of the mountain. We plan to return and pay our respects.

Despite the realities of the British Automotive Industry: “Over 100 years of turning Drivers into Mechanics”…: My therapy cat enters the story:

The British cat’s story is simpler. The cat is an E-Type Jaguar Coupe built in October of 1964, the last production month of the 3.8 Liter Series 1. The car is a barn find from about five years ago. Story I was given; California car purchased by Hanover guy in mid-1980’s, driven from West Coast to Virginia; parked in a barn in 1989. Barn later collapsed crushing an adjacent vehicle; leaving Jaguar with only a small dent in the right fender. Okay, a survivor! I bought the car as an intended next project. I was just finishing up a 1969 Morgan Plus 8 and felt lucky to come across the E-Type Coupe as a new project.

A 1965 E-Type was my daily driver in the 1970’s. There had been significant differences in production from the earlier 1964; the engine went from 3.8 liters to 4.2, but the engine was slightly detuned  (read that as slower), later car did have much better seats, better clutch and synchromesh in first  gear. Both cars had glass over headlights. I sold the ‘65 to help capitalize start-up of engineering firm in 1979. A few years later, my daughter, living in Europe, sent pictures of a pretty, red, 1961, 3.8 liter coupe she had purchased along with a note “I got one and you don’t.”  Finding the ‘64 was a little like completing a circle.

This ’64 does have issues. The previous owner was working on the fuel system and stored some parts in the car that was crushed in the barn collapse. That car had been sold separately and with it went the Jag fuel tank mounting hardware, fuel pump, tank sump and fuel pick up and the fuel level sending unit. The balance of the fuel system was choked with “varnish.” Gasoline, as it ages, turns into something like petrified maple syrup. Typical for a car sitting for a long time.

In addition, the cooling system is choked with “Stop Leak;” an after-market product intended to magically stop leaks in the radiator and other parts of the cooling system. Similarly, the hydraulic system, clutch and brakes, are completely locked up. Suspension system bushings are shot and in one place actually missing. On the plus side, the body is in pretty sound shape and the interior is original and, except for the carpet, in great condition. Floor is rusted out at depressed foot wells, typical damage.

Initially I had just kind of picked at working on the project; rebuilt one of three carburetors, rebuilt upper steering column, new column bushings, rebuilt steering wheel, repaired cracked and separated wood steering wheel rim with epoxy, refinished using kit intended for gun stocks, pulled head for an inside look at engine, engine turns over easily by hand, pulled iconic bonnet; room in garage at a premium.

 In May, I didn’t feel too bad so I defaulted to my distraction zone and called SNG Barrett and ordered parts. I knew I couldn’t work but maybe I could, at least, piddle around on the project car and have something positive to look forward to. Or not. Garage hot, chemo left me physically awkward with zero stamina.

This took my support group of friends to the next level.  Cards, prayers, phone calls, and visits graduated; first, into a ductless, mini-split system to air condition and heat the garage! Then, David and Jim, who may have changed oil once volunteered to “turn the wrench” with me watching. Ronnie, a real mechanic has also jumped in as needed to keep us from a disaster. Initial work plan was firewall forward first.

The team has made real progress: new upper and lower ball joints; front hubs, including bearings and seals; upgraded vented brake discs and four cylinder calipers; all done.

NOTE to jag guys: using SNG’s improved, sealed lower ball joint assembly requires drifting out “spigot” at bottom of original ball joint. Also pickle fork may not work, we drove ball joint out with an artfully placed pneumatic hammer.


Next steps, remove: lower steering column, rack and pinion steering assembly, pedal box out of car; all parts being cleaned by media blasting, primed and painted or, for aluminum, treated with “Sharkhide”.

Biggest issue: we were trying to work in the half car space of a two and a half car garage. Need to move at least one of other cars elsewhere; guys carried bonnet down to our horse barn where it can rest comfortably. (Got the other car moved down to the barn last week end.) More to follow.

November 19 update, 40 of 41 steps for engine removal have been completed. Engine should be out this week. Tried to order wire wheels and tires from Coker today. Nothing in stock or available until April! Looking at alternatives.

Update: December 6, 2015

The “other car” languishing in the horse barn is a 2007 Aston Martin Vantage! With the extra room in the garage, we have made good progress, pulled the engine and transmission out as a unit, then disassembled; surprised by very light flywheel, clutch plate is in almost perfect condition. Engine and head have been delivered to Bruce Woodson to boil out, test for soundness and up-grade for using today’s gas and maybe a few power up-grades. Mercer and Woodson Automotive, Inc. will handle. Engine should be done by end of February. Also, had inexpensive tires mounted on old wheels; this will allowed us to drop the car off the jack stands and move it outside to media blast the front frame and firewall. This is to prep for painting the engine bay.  This area to be same color as body. I had tentatively decided on a darker version of British racing green with some bright yellow side flashes (maybe) on the front fenders. Proper paint today is a two-stage urethane applied with a HVLP sprayer…”all I want for Christmas is…”.

NOTE to Jag guys: pulling engine is no big deal if you have a good engine hoist with leveler. Engine comes out tilted at a 45 degree angle. Do follow the specific sequence in the shop manual relative to clearances. Biggest problem was removal of torsion bar tie plate; maintaining torsion bar setting requires special care. We fabricated temporary alignment pins from 3/8 inch diameter bar stock. Remaining problem was two steel brackets from the bell housing to the block, these interfered with removal of the tie plate and are not mentioned in the engine removal protocol.

Planned next steps: finish prepping engine bay, remove windshield and dash pad, select and deliver parts to receive a high polish to Bruce, organize all chrome stuff for repair and re-plating, plus a lot of little fussy things.

December 22, 2015

The big Cat end game is beginning to come into focus. Engine report is all good, should only take rings, valves, valve seats and guides, crank main and thrust bearings, cam shaft bearings plus maybe an upgrade or two. Work should be done by end of February. Car is a rolling chassis at this point but we need to pull independent rear suspension out as a unit and rebuild it. Best choice, trailer car now to body and paint specialist; have them drop out rear end and put it in our truck, bring it home while they prep and paint body. Still thinking British Racing Green substantially darkened by adding black, then customized by adding copper powder. Should be able to get painted car back about same time as the engine. Hope to start chrome work on its way to PA this week. Continuing to work on all the little things. New interior remains to be figured out.

December 23, 2015

Plan is coming together! Met with Richard and Barry at Page Custom Rods &Restorations. Both are cancer survivors! Will deliver rolling chassis and bonnet to them for body work and paint, they will pull IRS assembly and load in our truck. Put body on rolling stool in their shop. We will take IRS home and rebuild. They need to do a paint sample for approval. Goal body work, paint, engine and IRS all done and start reassembly by first week in March. Bob has posted 93 progress photos on their website through 1/13/15.

December 27, 2015.

Step 1 realized; firewall stripped, all glass out, trim and weather stripping off, interior disassembled. Ronnie and his boys re-attached the bonnet and loaded the rolling chassis on a dove-tail trailer for delivery to Page to start body work and paint tomorrow (see photos). Should be done in two months, same as engine work. Garage full of bits and pieces to be refurbished.

Notes to Jag guys:  Shop manual instructions for removal of door glass and frame didn’t work. Disassembled using the Braille system! Pile of chrome bits growing…for small parts it may make more sense to buy new rather than repair and re-chrome. We shall see. Also, I have decided to further upgrade from the Koni front shocks to Gaz platform adjustable shocks Original interior in very good condition, I may elect to keep for this step.

Discussed more or less final details on paint and body work with Bob at Page today 12/29. Bob should start posting progress photos on their website next week (www.pagecustoms.com). Changed decision on color…stripping indicates actual original color was opalescent gunmetal…sounds very cool and likely the best answer. Bob plans to use a two stage urethane paint; three color coats and three clear.