There is a special tool that you can buy to remove the ratchet nut, but I figured that I could get it without the tool once the radiator was off. It turns out that I was wrong. The ratchet nut is nestled into the concave center of the pulley, and you can’t reach it with a normal crescent wrench. Besides that, the old nut on my car is actually a different size, so the special tool wouldn’t have worked anyway. My two options as I saw them were to go out and buy an expensive tool that I would probably never use again, or go over to the garage across the street and see if one of their guys might come over and pop the nut off for me.

I went over, talked to Ernie, and told him I was having trouble trying to get a part off of my old car. Initially he wasn’t all that friendly, he told me that they don’t do any mobile service, and it seemed that I might be out of luck. The ratchet nut is a really odd-looking little item, it’s kind of like a regular bolt, but it has four shark-fin shaped teeth in a circle sticking out of the top. I had brought it along on purpose just in case I needed it to help me out in my task. I pulled it out of my pocket and showed Ernie when he asked me what I was trying to take off the car. He looked at it, very puzzled, and said, “What the hell are you working on?”

“A 1930 Model A Ford.”

There was a long pause. “Well… let’s see what I’ve got in here.”

I didn’t actually know what he was getting at since he had already told me that they weren’t going to come over. He started digging through some filthy, grease-covered tool drawers that no longer opened very well, and pulled out some enormous sockets. It took quite a while for me to fully get across to Ernie what I needed since the new ratchet nut was 1 3/8″ and the one I had to remove was 1 5/16″, and it took even longer for him to find them, but eventually he had the tools I needed. I suspected at this point that he was going to let me borrow the tools, but I still wasn’t really sure because mechanics NEVER let anyone borrow their tools. As he handed them to me he said, “I gotta respect anyone who will work on a car that is that f***ing old.” I offered to leave my license as collateral, but as long as I was quick about it, he wasn’t worried. But he did ask me not to tell anyone that he loaned me tools.

I went back to my garage, and found that I had to take even more stuff off the car just to get the socket to fit into the pulley, but it was the right tool for the job. I had hoped that I would just be able to pop the old nut off right away, and be back with Ernie’s tools in a matter of minutes, but of course, I couldn’t get the stupid thing off. To make it worse, the ratchet nut is on the end of the crankshaft, so that when I would torque the wrench the car would start to back out of the garage. It was very frustrating, and since this wasn’t working, I truly didn’t know what else I could do. I was sweaty, tired, and my hands hurt from cranking on the wrench so hard. The only other option was something that Devin had suggested. He thought that it might take the sudden force of an impact wrench to get the nut loose, but I didn’t have one, and there was no way I was going to go and drop that much cash. It was extra frustrating because I was under the gun to get the car running again before the upcoming car show that weekend.

I finally decided that improper use of tools and violence was my only option… don’t tell Ernie. I put the socket and wrench in place on the ratchet nut, got out my 2.5 pound Deadblow mallet, and gave the wrench handle a few good whacks. That did it. In fact, it worked so well, and so immediately, that it seemed like maybe this was what I should’ve done from the get go.

I wanted to thank Ernie for his help. Of course I could offer to pay him, but I didn’t have much cash, and that didn’t feel like the right way to repay the favor anyway. Instead I went into the fridge and got out a couple of ice-cold Spotted Cow micro-brews that I brought down from Wisconsin (for someone else… heh) and brought them with me back over to the garage. Ernie was very pleased with the arrangement.

When I told Devin the story, he was amazed that Ernie actually let me borrow tools, but he said, “It’s the car man! It just makes people want to help you out!”

“I know!” I said, “If I were a hot girl, with that car I’d be unstoppable.”

My brother Kent got married last week in Cambria California, which is in wine country in between Los Angeles and San Francisco. I flew into San Francisco, and then caught a ride with my cousin and family down to the wedding. It ended up being a fantastic weekend all in all, but the first day of my trip alone was pretty incredible.

First of all, as I was headed to the Airport I got a call from the Orbitz automated Traveler Update telling me that my flight into O’Hare was delayed due to bad weather, but when I got to the airport and checked in, I had already been re-routed through Dallas/Fort Worth. Amazing! It’s never that easy when you fly! I especially appreciated the re-routing since throughout the afternoon I kept getting calls from the Orbitz automated Traveler Update telling me how much more my original flight was now delayed.

The flight was packed. They had oversold it by something crazy like 18 people. It was a small plane that had just two seats on either side of the aisle. I sat down and tried to get organized and situated quickly since I knew that the seat next to me would fill up any second. Amazingly enough, when we took off there was only one empty seat on the whole plane, and it was next to me! Time to stretch out and relax. I put the armrest up, and thoroughly enjoyed the extra room.

Perhaps the one thing that didn’t go my way on this trip was food… although it kept almost going my way. When I got to my gate in Dallas I had a few minutes before boarding, I was a little hungry, and I knew there would be no food on the plane unless you bought it. Just so that I would have a goal I decided to think of what I really wanted to eat before I went out in search of it. “A sandwich. That would be the perfect thing.” I thought. I looked up and to my right, and there was a sign that read, “Sandwiches”. So I went up the stairs to the sandwich shop only to find it closed. “Ok, what’s the next best thing? A bagel.” I walked around the corner and found myself face to face with a giant sign for Einstein’s Bagels… and it was also closed. “Ok, the next best thing… ice cream!” Six more steps around the next corner and I found a Ben and Jerry’s stand. The cheapest thing on the menu was $5. The cheapskate part of me was not into paying $5 for two scoops of ice cream when I could get a whole pint of the same stuff at home for $2.50. At this point I decided to just get the snack pack they had been pushing on us on my last flight. For $3 you got a nice grab bag with chips and M&Ms and crackers and all kinds of stuff.

Just as I had hoped, the flight from Dallas had a movie: Dream Girls. I hadn’t seen it, and I wanted to, but I was really hoping for a movie that I wanted to see more. As it turned out, just as the movie started, I got to chatting with my row-mates Jean and Bob. They were Australian, and were headed home after attending a teaching conference where Jean was a participant. We had a grand old time talking about accents, Scuba, and all kinds of stuff. It was far more interesting than the movie.

At some point the snack guy rolled up and asked if I wanted to purchase some snacks.
“Yes please, I’ll have the $3 bag.”
“Which one?”
“The snack bag that is $3 please.”
“They’re all three dollars.”
“Ok, I want the one with the assortment of chips and M&Ms and stuff.”
“You want one of each?”
“Um… what?”
“They’re all $3 each.”
At this point I finally understood that there was no grab bag. For $3 you got chips or M&Ms or crackers etc. I didn’t really want to be limited to just one of any of the choices, but at this point I felt like there was no backing out, so I asked for the chips. From where I was sitting it looked like the chip container was about three inches tall, and although it was a terrible deal, it was about as many chips as I wanted anyway. When the guy handed me my chips though, it was a giant stack-o-chips in a big tube. WAY more than I wanted. So now I was stuck not only with chips I didn’t really want, far more than I didn’t want in the first place, and I had to carry around this stupid tube. Jean and Bob were no help with eating them either.

After the plane landed I was waiting for my luggage when a gorgeous metal case dropped onto the carousel. It was a brushed aluminum-looking case that was a little larger than a briefcase, and it had rows of circular polished areas that looked kind of like small CDs on the sides. It was beautiful. As it went around the carousel every single person stared at it. I could tell where it went just by watching the turning of people’s heads. As a yo-yo guy and an entertainer I am always on the lookout for great cases, so I watched to see who picked it up. Much to my surprise it went right past the hip, young, stylish couple, and was picked up by the rather ordinary, overweight white guy. I walked over to him and asked him what sort of case it was. He leaned way in, and I actually thought he was going to hit me so I pulled back.
“I’m going to tell you, I just don’t want everyone to hear.” He said in a low voice as he leaned in again. “It’s full of bull semen.”
“Nice.” I said. “And where’s the case from?”
“London.”
“Sweet.”
And that was it. He walked off, and I continued to wait for my bag.

I caught up with the bull semen guy again in the little train that was taking us to the main terminal. I explained that I was a yo-yo guy and I was curious about the case because yo-yoers are always on the lookout for a cooler way to carry yo-yos around. He told me a little more about where he got it, he made some bull semen jokes (real groaners too), and we had a nice little chat.

I planned my trip so that I could see my friend Cynthia that evening before connecting with my family the next morning to drive to the wedding. My flight re-routing was great for not getting stuck in the bad weather in Chicago, but it did get me in later than I planned. Fortunately there was still time to go to Cynthia’s favorite restaurant: Sushi Kazu. Cynthia had been talking about how great this place was, but I didn’t realize that she had also been flirting with the two young, good-looking sushi chefs. We sat down at the bar, and the sushi guys just made us stuff. Some of it on the menu, and some not. It was SO good. Unbelievably good in fact. Going for sushi can be hard for me sometimes since I’m a vegetarian and don’t eat fish, but these guys really knew what they were doing. I’m now worried that I might be forever ruined for sushi; nowhere else is going to be able to measure up.

To top off my awesome day, Cynthia and I went back to her place and sat in the hot tub, looking out over the valley, and up at the stars for a little while before we headed for bed. It was an incredible day, and the perfect start to a great trip.

Eric Wolff with his 11″ diameter top. The largest he’s ever made… so far.

For the average person, the phrase “spin-top people” is not one that is heard very often. Of all the very small social groups I belong to, the top-spinners are one of the smallest; I think only “paddleballers” are fewer in number. At the MadFest Juggling Convention this year we had a really good showing of spin-top people… and that means that there were 7 of us. Eric and Noah Wolff, Alan and Robert Gray, Chris Mulhall, Steve Brown and me.

The normal progression of events when top-spinners get together is:

1. Show off new tops. This rarely takes very long since there are virtually no mass-produced tops, so it’s really a question of who had the time to make some themselves.
2. Show off new tricks. This also rarely takes long since there are very few new tricks developed each year.
3. Play Battle Top.
4. Continue playing Battle Top until it degenerates into a different game that is way more fun.

Battle Top is a game where someone puts down a target/arena like a Frisbee or a plate, and then everyone stands in a circle around the arena and tries to throw a top into it one at a time. If you miss the arena you are out, the top that spins longest inside the arena is the winner. The one exception: if you throw your top and the tip lands on the crown of another top that’s already spinning in the arena, you win instantly. When played exactly by the rules Battle Top is fun for a little while, but what usually makes it really fun is that it doesn’t take long for us to start modifying the way we play.

A few years ago one of the guys, either Alan Gray or Eric Wolff, brought an oversized Battle Top top he made that had massive spikes coming out of the sides. No one could beat it, but it was hilarious to see our little tops get instantly banged out of the ring.

At MadFest this time the Battle Top game degraded in three stages. First, Alan, Eric and I got out our mid-size tops. Commercial tops are usually about 3″ tall with a diameter just over 2″. Our mid-size tops are all in the 4-5″ diameter range and made of wood. This version of the game was really fun because the big tops couldn’t all fit in the ring at once, and we decided it would be funnier if we all threw at the same time. With each throw, the three tops would usually meet in the air above the Frisbee with a big CLOP and it was pretty random as to whether any of them would land in the Frisbee at all.

The next level of degeneration happened when more top-spinners showed up. We were playing Battle Top with the standard rules, and I decided that it was a good time to practice the overhand throw. The standard throw nowadays is a forehand horizontal motion like you would use when playing tennis. The throw I decided to work on is more like the motion that you would use to swing a hatchet, and is the throw that is used when the goal is to split the other guy’s top in two.

I had heard about this throw ever since I started spinning tops, but I could never find anyone who could actually do it. Any time I would do a show for an audience that included men from Mexico or South America they would come up afterward to tell me about how they used to split their friends’ tops when they were kids. I could never get anyone to show me the throw because 1) I didn’t want them to break my top, 2) my top was different than what they used as a kid, 3) they couldn’t remember how to do it, or in some cases 4) they didn’t actually know how to do it in the first place. Lucky for me I know Jon Gates. Jon is a natural with tops, and he figured out the overhand throw and showed me how to do it.

Since I had never really had the chance to practice the overhand throw, my aim was terrible, which was good for my friends because the few times I did hit their tops I did some real damage. There was little risk of me splitting anyone’s top since we were all using modern plastic ones, but mine had a metal tip and delivered some mean gouges and battle scars. It was really fun to be able to work on this throw; I never get to practice it because it is so brutal. Even just dropping a spinning top on a wood floor from waist height will leave a noticeable dent, so intentionally throwing one really hard into the floor is out of the question. We were standing on a thick plastic floor-protector that was keeping the basketball court under us safe, so I had nothing to worry about. I dinged up my buddies’ tops and nearly put a hole in the Frisbee, and just as some other people were learning the overhand throw the game degenerated once more.

As if no one would notice, Eric went over to his bag and took out one of his big tops. It wasn’t the largest one he brought with him, but it was at least eight or nine inches in diameter. When he spun it, all the little tops were instantly knocked away. It was a large wood top with an opening about 4 inches across… just big enough to land a little top inside. I don’t know who started it, but the game instantly became to see how many little tops we could land inside the giant top before it stopped spinning.

It was SO fun! Who would’ve known? Sometimes the little top would keep spinning inside the big top which allowed plenty of time to try to get more in there, and sometimes (like when my lefty-spinning top made it inside) the little top would just get pinned to the side of the big top and the off-center weight made it impossible to add more tops. Our goal became to get three little tops in the big top before it stopped spinning, and after about an hour and a half we did it. The big top had a bunch of really vicious gashes in it from the little tops that had metal tips, but it just meant that Eric has a trophy to go along with the story.

As luck would have it, the Threadless Christmas party was Friday night and my friend Harper invited me to come. Since I am often in Chicago in the middle of the day with some time to kill before or after gigs, I have spent a fair amount of time hanging out at Threadless. Mostly I hang out with Harper, but I know a few of the other folks there a little, so going to the Christmas party wasn’t the awkward I-don’t-know-anybody experience that usually happens when you go to someone else’s work party. The other thing that made it good was that Threadless really knows how to let it all hang out. Where most work places have one or two wild and crazy characters, at Threadless it’s the opposite, almost everyone is wild and crazy. There is never any shortage of wacky stuff going on with those cats.

Harper and Crystal

In case you don’t already know, Threadless.com is an online t-shirt company that prints shirts designed by the members of its online community in an ongoing design contest. It’s really cool, and they have some of the best shirts around.

The Threadless party was fun. It was held at a swanky bowling alley called 10 Pin, and there was a ton of catered food, unlimited drinks, and free bowling. As one would expect, there were zany antics like backwards granny throws, bowling without using the finger holes, and three bowlers using the same lane at the same time. I’m not exactly sure why, but everyone at this party was beautiful, crazy-lookin’, or both. Even the girl who had to keep coming over to yell at us for throwing too many balls down the lanes at once was beautiful.

Santa LOVES the Jager Bombs!

The party got going quickly, and Harper did his best to help it along by ordering lots and lots of drinks for everyone. His personal rule for the night was that he could never order fewer than ten shots at once… and he did that ten times. Ten times! I think it’s safe to say that the party was not cheap.

We stayed a little while after the party ended at midnight, and then it was off to another club with Harper’s buddy Tag.

I should point out that I am not really the going-out-to-clubs kind of guy. I’m not much of a drinker, I have never really enjoyed the bar scene, and I have rarely lived in an area with a club scene. Harper, on the other hand, is a major presence in the Chicago club scene and goes out regularly. I don’t go along often, but it’s a lot of fun to go out with Harper on occasion since he’s already all the way in the scene, and I can just tag along for the ride.

The first place we went was called Debonair. I don’t think there was a line out front, but I do know that we didn’t have to pay to get in, and the guy at the door knew Harper by name. It was a cool club, the music was loud, there were people dancing, it was a nice atmosphere. We went downstairs and it was like it was a totally different club. It was much darker, the music was different and much louder, and I recognized a bunch of people I have met over the years of hanging out with Harper. It’s funny to me how well Harper and his pals communicate on where to meet. I’ve seen some of these people several times, but never at the same place twice. It’s also funny how wherever we go Harper knows all the bartenders.

We hung out for a while at Debonair, and then it was off to the next spot. I had steeled myself for a long night of cabbing around town hitting a bunch of spots. Even though this would turn out to be a fairly low-travel night, it also turned out to be the quintessential Goin’ Out With Harper experience.

The next spot was around the corner, across the street, and down the alley to an unmarked door. I found out later that the place was called Ohm, and there wasn’t just one line at the door, there were two. One going in each direction down the alley, and each one had at least a hundred people in it. We had picked up a small group at the last bar, and after almost no negotiation Tag got all eight of us in… for free. Basically we just walked right up, past the two massive lines, the velvet ropes parted, and we were in. I felt like I was going to get busted any moment for not really being a member of the Cool Kids Club. It was very MTV, and very strange. Then to top it all off, we got to the top of the stairs, and as soon as the big, mean, and scary-lookin’ bouncer saw Harper, he smiled and gave him a big hug. Clearly I was with the right people.

The party was rockin’ at Ohm. This was the place to be. There were lots of people, lots of dancing, and many of the partiers, both men and women, were in various stages of undress. Some were clearly professional dancers (the ladies in lingerie), and some were just enthusiastic (the sweaty dudes). Following the same pattern as at Debonair, we went right upstairs to what was basically another club within a club. This is where the REAL party was, and it was PACKED. I followed Harper as he pushed right into the middle of the dancing throng, broke into the circle of hot girls, who he (of course) already knew, and said, “Hey. This is my friend Mark.” Of course I knew that it was odd to have two married guys in the middle of the dancing circle of hot girls in one of the hottest clubs in Chicago on a Friday night, but no one else knew that. Since neither of us was trying to hook up, it didn’t matter anyway.

It was at this point that Harper pointed out to me that part of the reason it was so hopping in there was that the DJ that night was James Iha, the former guitarist from Smashing Pumpkins. If that means nothing to you then just trust me that he is famous. It was strange to be unexpectedly within four feet of someone that famous.

I always forget how easy it is to spend all your money when you go out like this. Between coat checks, cabs, food and drinks (for you and for your friends) you can spend a LOT of money in no time. Since I wasn’t drinking and we didn’t get in any cabs, this night was fairly cheap, but I suspect that it was the exception and not the rule.

We enjoyed the scene at Ohm for a little while, and finally headed back to Harper’s place around 2:30 am (3:30 my time). It was much earlier than I had expected, and I was grateful.