O Ye of Little Faith

It could be my imagination but I have been sensing the tingling of negative vibes around me. My wife has asked me on more than one recent occasion “So. You think you can put it back together?”

Translation: “Let’s face it, Kevin. So far, your . . . “work” for lack of a better term has resulted in turning a $1000 working camper into a $25 empty box with rusty wheels.

My mother seamstress, when I suggested that we should add a valance of some type that circles the roof above the curtains (I have seen these in pictures of popups and they look great!), told me “I would wait and try these out to see if we need any adjustments.”

Translation: “Let’s face it, Kevin. You’re pretty much an idiot with these things and chances are you will continue to destroy this . . . “camper” for lack of a better word until nothing is left standing to hang curtains on.”

My own father told me during my last visit “You know, Kevin, for what you have planned, you could be talking about a year or two of work.”

Translation: “Let’s face it, Kevin. This thing is doomed to failure. If, and that’s a big, big IF, you somehow manage to beat the odds, pull off a miracle and not set the thing on fire, it will take 2 years for you to save enough money to have professionals fix the thing right.”

To all you naysayers I say:

Bah!

I mean these folks, so they tell me anyway, are reading my blog. How they could be any less than 100% confident in this project is beyond my understanding.

Now, I know there 2 other folks besides Dusty and those mentioned above who are following this blog that are far handier than I am with this stuff yet they remain suspiciously quiet. I’m starting to get the impression that they are here with me just for laughs and eagerly awaiting my gory, detailed descriptions of this project going down in flames. I'll do it to. Win or lose, do or die, success or failure, my project and this blog are intimately connected.

I'm committed to this thing. I'll do it or die trying. I don't care if I have to replace every splinter and screw in the thing and it costs me $20K. Frostbite and I are now engaged in mortal combat; a hand-to-hand, fix bayonets, chew out the other guy's guts and spit them out kind of combat. No way is some over-the-hill, seen-better-days, pos, dump heap of a wood box on wheels is going to beat me. Frostbite with the weight advantage might have me stunned with a Throat-Punch followed up with a particularly crafty Gutwrench-Brainbuster combination move. I may be down on the mat writhing in pain and Frostbite is climbing up the corner ropes for a Flying Elbow Drop but I can hack it.

Now I realize that I am essentially learning to swim by diving head first into the deep end but what I lack in skill and knowledge I make up for with dumb luck and blind, unwavering faith in the idea that it "can't be that hard."

This weekend I'm going to sneak up on Frostbite from behind, grab her around the throat and stun her with the Cobra Clutch quickly followed up with a Tombstone Pile driver which will hopefully render her unconscious.

Not ready for the pin-down just yet but by the end of the weekend it will be ME climbing the corner ropes for the Flying Elbow Drop. Just you wait and see!