Posts tagged "#TruckProblems"

Being back in the truck wouldn’t really be complete without some semi-inexplicable phenomenon causing me troubles (cough cough). And thankfully, the truck hasn’t disappointed. I say this because I came back to the truck a few days ago to several large mounds of thick, sticky sap on the floor of the truck.

This would be odd under normal circumstances, but to make things further befuddling:

• My sunroof was closed, and
• I wasn’t parked anywhere near a tree.

Certifiably odd. But years of strange truck happenstances mean that my first reaction was along the lines of “This needs to be gone now”, instead of just general confusion. I’ve witnessed one too many ant ^{et al} infestations even without any food in the truck, I sure as hell wasn’t going to sit around and find out if they find sap tasty or not.

Continuing my new trend of discussing Californian curiosities, let’s talk about water. Speaking with only the slightest bit of hyperbole, it doesn’t rain in the Bay Area from May through September, but it gets decently damp from October onward. And I’m not just talking about rain; some mornings bring with them a thick layer of condensation, which I’ve addressed before, a long, long time ago.

Back then, I thought the condensation was, in large part, just me breathing in the box^{a lot}, which seems kinda silly (and gross) in retrospect. I’ve since learned exhalation only accounts for a small amount of it: less than a cup per night. The majority just condenses out of the air. Normal folks call this ‘humidity’, but apparently the word escaped me when I wrote that last post.

Truckquake is the poor portmanteau (poortmanteau?) I’m going to use to describe earthquakes that I experience when I’m in the truck.

Earthquakes are a relatively common phenomenon in California. According to the California Department of Conservation, there are ~200 “potentially hazardous” faults in the state, and they generate an average of “two or three” quakes per year registering 5.5 or higher on the Richter scale, which is enough to cause “moderate [structural] damage”. Fun, lighthearted stuff.

This is a story about my poor life choices and where they sometimes take me. It all started when I was a little boy a few months ago. It’s President’s day weekend , and I’ve got some grand plans, at least in relation to how quiet I usually like my weekends.

Friday night was catching up with some friends

Saturday was a holiday party (¿in February?)

Sunday was exploring San Jose

I don’t think it rained once when I interned in the Bay in 2014. The summer of 2014, to be specific. Doing a bit of overzealous extrapolation, I came to the ^incorrect conclusion that it never rains in the Bay, which sounded just splendid to me. Before I moved out here to start a full-time job in 2015, I donated my boots, raincoat, and any umbrellas I had. When I actually got here and bought the truck, I didn’t even bother checking for leaks. You can tell where this is going, and anyone from the area knows that I made a grave miscalculation. I found this out the hard way during my first winter here.

Before I say anything else, let me be clear: this isn’t me making up some spooky story, this actually happened to me this morning, Monday August 1st, at 6 am.

I had a series of strange dreams about spies and nuclear war last night. Pretty dramatic, but I have weird dreams all the time. The problem is that things got weirder after I woke up. First, I noticed a bitter taste in my mouth that I have no explanation for. I ate nothing strange last night and washed up using the same products I’ve been using for as long as I care to remember. That’s not a big deal though. What is a big deal is this:

It’s been two months since I opened my large mouth a little too widely, and things have calmed down considerably. I’ve only received one or two interview requests in the past month (which I’ve dutifully ignored), and website views have tapered off to a fairly consistent 500 truck-enthusiasts a day. I’ve been spending my weekends hammering away on a new home improvement project, and enjoying bike rides to events in the area.

Note: Throughout this post, I use phrases like “yesterday” and “last night”. In reality, it was two nights ago, but I’m slow to get my thoughts onto (digital) paper.

The Bay Area is a fairly dry place. In the past six months of my living out here, it has only “rained” a handful of times. I use the term rain lightly, because it’s barely ever more than a passing drizzle. In spite of the precipitation’s timidity, people have become so adjusted to the area’s micro-climate that they act (and drive) like it’s a flash flood. Yesterday, it rained. But it didn’t “rain”, no, this wasn’t Your Dad’s Rain™ at all. Yesterday, I experienced my first Californian downpour.

I knew the day would come eventually. In one of my first posts, I mentioned a guy who was doing something similar to what I’m doing now. His observation was that security personnel at these large companies doesn’t care how insane you are if you work at the company and aren’t hurting anyone. Last night, I had my first run in with company security. What follows is my experience.

It’s almost 1 am, I just got out of a movie with a few friends. The movie was mediocre at best, certainly nothing special. I drive my house back to my usual parking place at the edge of a company lot, as I normally do. I grab my bag of toiletries and head into a nearby building to brush my teeth and wash my face. As I walk out, I pass a security car. They linger for a minute, and then drive off. I don’t think much of it. After a short traipse across the lot, I hop into my car, put on my pajamas, and go to sleep.

Gnat nightmares, spider sadness, moth madness, ant anxiety, bug barrage—ok I’ll stop now.

I’m not a fan of bugs. Generally speaking, unless you’re an entomologist or earthy-crunchy type, you probably aren’t either. I’m not terrified of them by any means, I’m not liable to stop what I’m doing if a bug decides to drop by and say hey, but I’m still likely to exterminate them all with extreme prejudice before going to sleep. After all, nobody is trying to eat spiders whilst slumbering. I’m happy to say that I haven’t had any full-blown infestations recently, though it hasn’t always been the case.

Okay, that’s definitely a bit of a dramatic title, but I am definitely not happy with this turn of events. This actually happened two weeks ago, but I’ve been busy vacationing in LA (staying in a hotel, with a real room!) and haven’t been posting.

Anyway, as you can see, someone has hit and damaged my front-left blinker, dislodging it from its socket and ruining a perfectly pleasant afternoon. They didn’t leave a note, not that I should be expecting decency from a reckless stranger anyway. After a (very little) bit of sleuthing, I think I understand what happened though.

Unfortunately, I’m not talking about some more RV/Hippie Van/Truck neighbors.

No matter how well you plan out things, life always has a way of throwing little things at you to make sure you’re still paying attention. For the past week, life has been throwing the sound of jackhammers in my direction. It makes perfect sense that construction crews would work at night, when normal human beings aren’t at work and getting in their way, but I certainly was not expecting the parking lot I call home to be subjected to such perils. Like, they’re actually tearing up 10’ by 10’ sections at a time, something to do with pipes or electricity or whatnot. I’m a computer systems engineer, not a mechanical engineer, I have no idea how any of this stuff works. It makes me think back to when I was considering getting soundproofing installed by that Happy Vans company in San Jose. It’s still not really an issue, the truck actually does a surprisingly good job of blocking it out, and I haven’t had any trouble falling asleep. Still, just goes to show you that there will always be something, whether it’s crows, radioactive waste, or jackhammers.

Something I noticed when I first bought this truck was that it had a special permit in it. A special permit issued by the “Pipeline and Hazardous Materials Safety Administration”, authorizing it to carry…something? I’m not actually sure what this truck was used for prior to my purchase, some sort of commercial activity, and I know for a fact that it started it’s life as a simple Budget truck. Call it stubbornness or naivety, but I’m not particularly interested in finding out what it actually was carrying. I’ve lived here a month with no adverse effects, and I’ve even noted my improved sleeping abilities. Who knows, maybe my ability to sleep is from toxic fumes knocking me out every night, or maybe one morning I’ll wake up and all my hair has fallen out and I’ll have developed some new, baffling form of respiratory cancer. That would be an interesting one to explain to a doctor. Best case scenario, the truck was carrying radioactive waste and my exposure is slowly giving me super powers. Worst case scenario, the truck was carrying radioactive waste and my exposure is slowly turning me into a character from The Hills Have Eyes.

Before you get too worried, the title probably isn’t what you think it is.

I’ve heard some strange sounds at night, things that sound vaguely like dirt bikes, drones, jackhammers, fireworks, people playing Pac-Man, you name it: if it’s unidentifiable and doesn’t belong in a parking lot, I’ve probably heard it from the back of this box. But there has been one sound I’ve heard on several occasions, usually in the morning on weekends, that until recently, has been totally baffling to me.

My parking situation is very much analogous to my housing situation: I don’t quite fit in. One of the most difficult parts of my situation, one that I underestimated during the planning process, is trying to fit the silly thing in parking lots.

Imagine this. It’s Saturday morning, and you’d like to run some errands. No big deal right, just hop in the car and go do them. Think again. There are two ways your scenario can play out.