Month: August 2014

 

As I walked out on my porch this morning, coffee in hand, I was greeted by the heat that is the usual occurrence of August in Texas. I can expect the temperatures for the next several weeks to be in the mid to upper 90s with the humidity in about the same range. I received an e-mail yesterday from an old friend who I went to officer candidate school with at Fort Benning Georgia. It was during those days that I stood as his best man at his wedding. We both went on our way as Army officers. Many of the members of my class ended up in Vietnam. A good number of my classmates did not make it back. But for those that did life went on in the many different areas that we all came from.

Every once in a while I get the invitation to go to a reunion of the remaining members of my officer candidate school class (OCS). And each time I get an invitation my friend makes a plea for me to join the rest of the group. I do not attend those functions. I feel that is time that I explained my actions.

Reunions are usually a gathering of people who experienced an event. The first one that comes to mind is a high school reunion. I did go to my 25th year anniversary of the class of 1965. And I left that event feeling depressed and disappointed. I think for many people high school was a great adventure. But for me it was a struggle. To begin with I was barely able to make a C average to graduate. My career advisor recommended that I not go to college and try to find some type of blue-collar work. I was not a popular kid in school and truly did not run with the popular kids. I was one of those people who played in the band, ran on the track team and swam on the swimming team. I participated in plays and speech contests. None of these activities were ever considered cool or fun. While I was at the reunion I was reminded of all those things. The beautiful people of this class seem to have gone on to good jobs and successful marriages. During one meeting with a group of my former classmates one of them blurted out, all the kids in the band were dorks “. I quickly reminded her that I was in the band and she hastily replied, “I did not mean you”. Maybe it was fun to see the people that were some of the good lookers at school who did not all turn out to be good lookers as adults. And maybe some of those dull dorks turned out to be beautiful people. All in all I found it depressing and disappointing to be there. I was not celebrating some great years of my life; high school for me was a struggle and many times a humiliating experience.

After graduating from college I would continually get invitations for reunions or get-togethers for the alumni of the college, in my case Pepperdine University. I do not go to these because while I was going to college I had a full-time job as a policeman and only attended the night and weekend courses to be able to get my degree. That too was a great struggle. I did not live in a dorm or in a fraternity and engage in all the activities that college students engaged in. I did not go to the games or get invited to the parties. That is because I had a full-time job, a wife and children to take care of. There was little time to have fun at the University; it was a serious effort on my part just to keep going to classes.

I also get invitations to reunions for those members of the Los Angeles police department who worked in the same divisions that I worked; the narcotics division. Even now most of those reunions are somewhere around Los Angeles there some of the detectives who worked there who now live in Texas. So every now and then I get an invitation to reunion somewhere in Texas of those men and women who worked for the Los Angeles police department when I did. I do not go to those because most of those people were never my partners during the time that I spent at work, there were over 9,000 employees. I worked for the LAPD during some of the most challenging times for a police officer. The growth of gang violence and narcotics use was rampant. And I experienced a riot in Los Angeles in 1992 where the police department just broke down and did not do its job. Most of my time was spent undercover where I did not associate with fellow police officers because I did not want to blow my cover. There were some exciting times, but I would like to leave those exciting times in California. It was also during those years that I began to abuse alcohol and I experienced a divorce that caused me to see less of my children, so I really don’t want to get together with a bunch of old fellow employees and relive the memories of my 20+ years on the LAPD. Many of the stories that would be told should be left alone. Once again not everybody that worked for the LAPD had a positive and glamorous experience.

The reason for this blog is to explain why I do not want to go to a reunion of my fellow OCS classmates. Just like school and college I struggled to get through the officer candidate school program. The program during those days was six months long. During that time I and my fellow classmates were treated like dirt. I was told this was done to make us ready to function properly under combat conditions. Not all of my classmates went to Vietnam. But I did. I did make some friends in the platoon that I was in while in officer candidate school. And even today I recognize their names when I get a message from them. But I hope they understand that I have wiped my memory of many of the experiences that I went through during the program. And the memory of my time there was one of stress and struggle. I know that many people feel a comradery when they have experienced such a program and survived. I do not wish to relive any of that. Going to a reunion I know that we will talk about experiences after the program. My experience was at that I went to Vietnam and witnessed some of the horrors of war. I also participated in the horrors of war. I like many soldiers who return from a war zone has some strong emotions about the experience. To begin with I feel guilty that I was not killed in Vietnam and many of my friends and the men I was in charge of did die there. I was also responsible for the death of a lot of people. This continues to haunt me especially in my older age. I do not want to relive any of those experiences. This is also why I don’t go to group therapy at the VA. I really don’t give a shit how many other men and women experience the same thing I did. I do not want to share my feelings or discuss my current mental state. This is why, with the medication and the visits to the psychiatrist, I still fight depression. Don’t get me wrong by working with the medication and the psychiatrist I’m doing pretty well right now. But I certainly do not want to get with a bunch of guys and start talking over old times and war stories. I do not know that I will ever want to share the experiences with anyone. I’ve had to tell my family members and I do not participate in many of the family events because I have difficulty doing so. Reunions for me are not fun. I would rather work on making new memories of a positive nature and just enjoying them as they happen. I don’t need to get together with a bunch of other people to do so.

POPS

 

 

 

As I walked out on my porch this morning, coffee in hand, I was greeted by sunshine and a cool temperature somewhere in the upper 60s. What a wonderful treat for the middle of August in Texas. I did not go out on my front porch yesterday morning because I was preparing for another procedure that meant I could not have any food, not even water from midnight to the time of the procedure which was 11 AM. It’s funny how hungry you can feel and how thirsty you are when somebody tells you that you cannot have it. So from the minute that I woke up around 7:30am in the morning until the time of the procedure my stomach growled and my mouth felt dry. I do not know why one must fast for every procedure no matter what it is for. As it turned out I made it to the hospital on time for my appointment. After the usual direction from the volunteer to the lady who makes sure I have insurance, I was directed to wait in the lobby. As this is a small rural hospital there was only one other person waiting in the lobby sitting on the oversized couches. As my wife and I were talking to each other about the hospital the woman who was also waiting, let us know that she was waiting for the same procedure and her appointment was an hour earlier than mine. Like most people there’s not much you can do about the hospital appointments being on time. I think the general rule of thumb is that no appointment at a doctor’s office or hospital, are ever on time. As I spoke to the lady waiting for her appointment one of the volunteers in the front lobby area started to make popcorn. The lady in front of me laughed and said, “Now that is cruel and unusual punishment. They make you fast all night long and then you show up to the hospital and wait almost an hour after your appointment time and they’re making popcorn.” I laughed and agreed that there is always something delicious about the smell of popcorn. Just as the lady pulled out her phone to call the x-ray department and cancel her appointment, her name was called to go to x-ray. With that happening I knew it was going to be a while before they called my name. I did get excited when somebody called out my first name of Stephen. I jumped off of the couch and went towards the volunteer who called the name hoping that it was my turn, only to find out she was calling out the name of another Stephen. So I wheeled around back to the couch and waited for my name to be called again. Sometime later my name was called. As I was directed to the x-ray department a middle-age man in scrubs greeted me in the hallway (he was the x-ray technician) and asked how I was doing? I told him I was waiting for him. He looked at me with a puzzled look and asked how long I’ve been waiting. It was apparent to me that he had no clue that he was an hour or so behind on his appointments. So you cannot be mad at the guy doing x-rays or the really nice old ladies who are volunteers at the hospital directing me to his office. Basically you just smile and go through the procedure.

Most hospital administrators are nowhere near the area where people who were signing in for their appointment gather. They hide behind the many hallways and doors with all the appropriate signs that say “do not enter staff only”. And of course if they asked the nice ladies who are volunteers in the front of the hospital, those ladies will always say things are just fine. Volunteers are really good people with kind hearts. The administrators are busy with the many duties that run the hospital and they do not seem to really care about whether a patient is being seen on time or not. In my mind they could probably adjust the times when they give the appointment times to allow for the delays that might happen in a hospital. It would be nice when you sign in if they would let you know that they are a little behind today. Sometimes I think that hospitals are just like the Department of Motor Vehicles, they know I need them and they know that I am not going away. It is usually the staff that are in the front of the hospital or the doctor’s office they get all the rage and anger from a patient about how late their appointment is. But by the time the doctor actually shows up, or the person is doing the procedure, all you want to do is get the procedure done.

Why is it when the doctor finally does come down the hallway and he or she ask you how you’re feeling your first response is “fine”. I am not fine that is why I am at their office. I do not believe that it is the doctor’s fault that the appointments are going late. I think that falls on the hospital, office or the clinics administration. And it seems that after you waited about a half hour to 45 minutes your name is called and you’re sent back to a room and you set there for 45 minutes before actually seeing the doctor. The nurses that you meet along the way can be either very nice are just about the business of you being there. They seem to speak to other employees there about events of their day as if you’re not there beside them. I’m lucky that I’m in a rural area and the nurse that greets me at the door seems to be actually interested in why I’m there.

I’m fortunate enough to have insurance that covers most of my medical needs. But I’m also one of those faceless number people who call up and get an appointment time only to expect and then receive the fact that that appointment time will be delayed. Luckily now you can bring a device with you and read a book or watch a movie that you actually like. I’m not sure where they get the magazines that they throw down on the tables in the waiting room, but the only time I actually read those magazines is when I desperate to kill time.

I know that living in United States of America I am lucky to have the availability of medical care. Maybe my dislike for not being seen at the appointment time is a bit like a spoiled child. Maybe it’s because I’m an old man and I get more irritated all the time. Luckily I’m married to a great woman who usually goes with me to these appointments and she keeps me in check and makes the waiting worthwhile.

Pops

 

As I walked out of my front porch this morning, coffee in hand, I was again greeted by bright sunlight beams breaking through the tree leaves and bouncing off the forest floor. I went back inside my house and called my doctor’s office to make an appointment. First of all, stating that it is my doctor is someone being naïve. I go to clinics to see whatever doctor I can get to take a look at me. I am a disabled veteran and I have the capability of asking to see a doctor at the VA clinic. But I only do that when I feel I can wait a month or two before getting an appointment to see a doctor. The VA doctors see so many different patients that when I do get into their office the doctor will act as if it is for the first time, because the doctor does not have any memory of my last visit other than to look at the computer. And so I when have a need to see a doctor as soon as possible I go to a local clinic. When I go to the clinic I’m not sure whether I will see a medical doctor or a nurse practitioner. The good part about using the local clinic is that I can get in to see the doctor within a short period of time. I’m fortunate that I live in a rural area and the number of people waiting to see the doctor are few. Unlike the waiting rooms at the VA clinics are in a major city doctor’s office, the waiting rooms here are clean and not crowded.

The reason I mention all of these things is because I use them as an excuse usually not to see a doctor. I noticed that especially men, older men; really do not like to go to see a doctor – any doctor. They especially do not like to go to see a dentist. The image of seeing the dentist usually conjures upon the thought of pain. Just the use of a needle to administer a numbing effect is awful. My last visit to the dentist ended up in my losing six teeth. Not that it was their fault that my teeth are so bad. But I’m sure just like many of you out there the thought of going to the dentist is one of the least likely places you’d like to go.

It usually takes some real suffering and then concerned about my condition before I go to see a doctor. To begin with it costs money to see the doctor. No matter what kind of insurance you have, if you have insurance, it is usually an expense you did not budget for. If you wait too long you end up going to the hospital via ambulance. The cost of the use of an ambulance is outrageous. It will cost you about $600 or more for those two medics to drive you to a hospital. I think most the time people call for an ambulance out of concern for one’s safety, without even thinking about the cost of the transportation. But I’ve been transported in non-emergency condition a few times and every time I am amazed what my insurance company pays for transportation. Now, I am concerned that my insurance is not as strong as before. It is a real concern for me on how to handle the cost of transportation by an ambulance. Maybe it is a good thing because I’m more likely not to let my health get so bad that I will not need an ambulance get to a hospital.

In today’s world when you get to the waiting room the first person you’re going to see is a clerk that confirms the appointment and then immediately jumps into how are you going to pay for this. I know when I have gone to an emergency room, when my father was in bad health, one of the first people that we spoke to was not a nurse or doctor but the person handling the billing. Most people even chase you down into the hallways to find you while you are lying on a gurney waiting for a room just to get your information on how to pay for the treatment. I know that the treatment is not for free and the time effort and education plus the cost of location need to be met for the hospital to survive. Maybe it is because so many people that use our emergency rooms and are planning to use it for free because they say they cannot pay the bill. Just like the illegal immigrants across our borders and then end up in our emergency rooms. There are many people who use the same emergency rooms and say they can’t afford to pay for it even if they can. They know how to use the system. Legally the hospital cannot turn them away. So if you’re someone who goes to that clinic or hospital and looks like you possibly could pay; a trained administrative professional will make sure that they get all the information any possibility of payment from you.

I do not like to be hunted down and questioned about my ability to pay before I even see a medical professional. I would hope that the first concern of the clinic or hospital would be my health. Because if I’m healthy and I am able to work and able to pay my bills. Maybe it’s because there are very few independent hospitals or clinics. They are all part of a bigger company or organization. And the fact that they cannot turn away someone at one location makes them latch on to anyone who walks into the location and looks like they can actually pay the bill. Some of those clerks work to find the money and stop at nothing to find someone either related to you or around you to pay the bill.

 

I, like many Americans worry that the cost of having insurance will make it almost impossible to afford to go to a hospital or clinic. And as far as the VA hospital goes, that’s just a joke. The system is so badly managed and overwhelmed that I will be nothing more than a number rather than the patient.

So do I want to go to a doctor because I’m feeling bad? Not really I will probably try everything else before going there. I will check the Internet to see if they have an answer for me. I will listen to advice that is given on talk shows. And I will usually consult with some family member, usually a woman, about my condition and how to treat it. I will do all of this usually before going to a doctor.

My thought for the day is that the United States of America must find some way to reallocate billions of dollars that is in our nation’s budget to address the growing needs of the many middle-class citizens need for medical care. No one in the middle-class is asking for a free ride. But there has to be a better way to make health care affordable and personal. I prefer the doctor look at me while talking to me rather than looking at a computer and just reciting my history. I would hope that the United States of America would quit spending billions of dollars on foreign countries and their relations. I would hope they would use that same money to help with healthcare system and on the fight to eliminate cancer. I know this will not happen with this Congress, the worst do-nothing Congress in history, but I hope for a brighter future with the next generation of congressmen and women.

Pops

 

As I have done for the first 100 blogs that I completed, which happened in the last blog, I will continue to start my blogs in the same fashion. It is my way of giving the reader an ideal of what the world looks like physically from my front porch.

As I walked out on my front porch today, coffee in hand, I was greeted by sunshine breaking through the tree leaves and lighting up the forest floor. It has been mostly overcast for the last week and so I’m enjoying the sunshine. The temperature for the last couple of weeks has been way below average. Today the top temperature will probably be around 80°. In the next five days the top temperature will be 100 degrees. The changing temperature will change my activity level outside the house. This got me to thinking about the activity level that we all can experience and what we are expected to experience.

During your childhood and then your young adulthood you probably spent as much time inside as outside. The inside time was usually experienced in your house or at your school. The outside time was dictated by where you live. If you lived in an urban area or a big city your choices made in a few as to where you want to play and on the social environment. If you lived in the suburbs your choices grew to the many parks and even the less traveled streets and driveways in your neighborhood. If you lived in rural country he may have found a lot of places to enjoy, yet your choices were probably very few as to organize activities outside the school. I have been fortunate to have lived in all those locations.

And each of those locations seems to have its own reputation or profile. You can find this by where people proclaim that they came from like: downtown, uptown in the city, from the suburbs, in the country, the south side, west side, north side or the east side. Depending on where you were at you were probably profiled by the person speaking to you by the description of where they came from.

For example, I used to work with a lady who would proudly proclaim she came from the South side Chicago. I suppose that was to mean that she was tough. This type of profiling even goes to the area of the nation lived in. I can remember when I first moved to Texas and I told somebody I was originally from Indiana I was proclaimed as a “Yankee”. I did not know people still thought that way. If I told them I came from California rather than Indiana, they would say something like you came from the land of fruits and nuts. And if I would tell them I came from New York City, I was a “damn Yankee”. I found the same kind of reaction when I was speaking in the North and I told people that I was from Texas. Some people would respond to me by saying, “Shit Howdy”. Or something like, “wheres your cowboy hat and boots.” Many of these profiles come from the different media sources that we watch. Sources like movies, television, magazines and newspapers. I was more likely to get a preconceived opinion about a place from a movie or television rather than from the books that I studied at school.

This practice of profiling is now even more present when it comes to people from other countries. For some time now the rise of the Hispanic population has started to change the culture in many of the states. I use the word Hispanic because as a policeman it was drilled in to my head to use this term. However the more popular term was Mexican. That is because most of the people who are coming to the big cities like Los Angeles in the past came from Mexico. They were not as welcomed as people from Canada or Europe. But they proved to be hard-working and family oriented, making them a part of the very soul and the fabric of the United States. What is interesting is that today there seems to be more people coming from other South American countries like Columbia, El Salvador and the Dominican Republic. We seem to lump all of these South American countries into one group called Hispanics. But they are not all from the same cultures and from the same governments. Yet we are quick to put them only in one category or profile.

The word profiling represents to many people a very negative image. Yet I think it is something that everyone does every day. It is using what experiences you’ve experienced and taking in all your senses into making some sort of a quick decision or an opinion and how to respond. Maybe you grew up in a neighborhood where the number 13 was meant to represent the letter M for marijuana and then you find yourself in another neighborhood where the number 13 represents some sort of gang affiliation. This could get you into trouble. Maybe you grew up in a neighborhood where the presence of a police car going up and down the street was welcomed as a chance to say hi to the police officer. Or maybe you grew up in a neighborhood where the presence of a police car was not welcomed and usually meant somebody was going to go to jail. Maybe you grew up in an area were a football game was soccer. Maybe you grew up in a small Texas town were football is a contact sport that rules the activities on Friday and Saturday nights.

I mention all of these maybes because this is what helps us develop the way that we profile people. I don’t think the profiling is wrong, because those images are usually based on some sort of life experience. But I do believe that even now when I profile a person or situation quickly, I also can give that person or situation the opportunity to be something different than I originally expected.

This takes some training and some effort and not continuing a knee-jerk reaction provided by profiling. I think the profiling is necessary and can help me from getting into a bad situation. But I also think I must continue to fight the knee-jerk reaction brought on by this profiling.

I’ve mentioned this philosophy in my blogs about how we treat senior citizens. For me this means people that are sixty years and older. Especially once a person gets to 70, 80 or 90 years old. It seems that those people are quickly profiled as feeble, week and unable to contribute to society. It is true that some people do not age well and they become dependent on others. But, there’s a whole group of senior citizens who are more than capable of: and would welcome, the opportunity to be involved.

I am a happy man, a senior citizen, who is active and ready to take on the next adventure. I am sure that my health in the future will diminish. But until things are different I want to be given the opportunity to participate in my culture, my state and my country.

Pops

As I walked out on my porch this morning, coffee in hand, I looked out on the forest floor and noticed all the standing water still around from yesterday’s rain. The greens of the trees and their leaves were outstanding. I smiled as I remembered trying to get a burn pile going yesterday only to be beaten down by the continuous rain that went on all day. I think I’ll try to do the burn pile again today. To do so I have to have the right combination of tools. I do not just go and put a match to a bunch of wet wood and expect it to start burning.
This got me to thinking about my belief that a person cannot have enough tools. And then following that thought, if a person has the tools they should try to have them nearby at all times. Like most people of my age, my family would usually take a summer vacation trip. This meant for me that six people were going to stuff themselves inside a 1957 station wagon and drive for three days to a camping destination. In those days there were no cell phones and very few phones along the highways to get help from anyone. So, my father would grab a small toolbox and fill it with anything he thought would be useful if the car broke down. There was a set of pliers, an adjustable wrench, a Flathead screwdriver and a Phillips head screwdriver. He attached a canvas bag to the front grill of the car which was filled with water for the radiator. He had gloves and a set of sockets, making sure that one of the sockets was the size of the lug nuts on the car. He brought a patch kit for the inner tube inside the tire. And then there were those items that I thought were unusual in the beginning that ended up being something I carry all the time. To begin with there was duct tape. Duct tape is a magical tool that can be used to tape up the radiator hose should it burst or crack. It also was used to patch the seat, that got torn during the trip, and a hold up the back taillight whose attaching screw had broken. I’m sure if you look at it many of you have used duct tape for a plethora of situations. My dad also brought along a wire clothes hanger. He could bend it shape it to hold on parts of the car that seem to fall off, this usually meant the muffler. I don’t know why the old car had such a problem keeping the muffler attached to the bottom of the car but it seemed like on every trip the muffler would come loose and the wire was used to keep the muffler attached until the trip was over. My dad also threw in a couple of flashlights with fresh battery sets so that if we broke down tonight I could hold the flashlight as a he cussed the engine department while repairing something that went wrong.
You would think with all that good training I would always have tools available while driving my car. Well while I was working I always owned a new car and it wasn’t long into my adulthood that cell phones came on the market. So, I had the capability of calling a tow truck or someone to help me. Well after moving out here on the tree farm I decided that I needed just one new vehicle. So, I went out and bought an old 1991 Ford pickup truck. There were several things wrong with it when I bought it and so after six months I had the truck running without any problems. During one of my first trips from the house I noticed that the temperature gauge went up very quickly. So I turned around and went back to the shop and I fixed the problem. During this time my wife bought me a small cell phone to use while driving the truck just in case it broke down and I needed to call her or a tow truck for help. So for the next several months any time I left the property driving the old Ford truck I had the cell phone with me. And during that time nothing really happened. But then I found myself in the need to drive about 20 miles to the local Home Depot and the only vehicle available was the Ford truck. So I took off and about 4 miles down the road, just to remind you this is a 2 lane country road, when I noticed that the water gauge had gone from normal to very hot, very quickly. So I pulled over on the side of the road, opened up the hood and scanned the engine compartment to see what the problem was. It didn’t take long for me to see that the brand-new heater hose I put on the radiator had come loose and therefore I was losing water quickly. It took me 5 minutes to figure this out and I think the total number of three cars passed me on the roadside. I realized that all I needed was a Flathead screwdriver to open , close and tighten the clamp on the radiator hose and I would be ready to drive on. But there was a problem; I didn’t have any tools in the truck or in the back bed of my old Ford truck. So I struggled and tried to use a dime as a Flathead screwdriver to tighten the hose clamp. I did have one guy stop and asked if I needed help and I told him that I needed a Flathead screwdriver and I would be fine. He looked at his truck and he could not find a Flathead screwdriver but he offered to trade vehicles if I would like to trade his vehicle for mine. He said he would be right back in a few minutes with a screw driver, but after 20 minutes I realized he wasn’t coming back. So, there I sat on the side of the road because I forgot to bring any tools or my phone with me. Finally the dime trick worked enough for me to get the radiator hose to stay on the radiator. Luckily I did have a gallon of water in the back of the truck and I was able to put it into the radiator. I then drove about 2 miles back towards the house before noticing the temperature gauge again began to rise. I pulled over the side of the road in front of a very old a small country house. There was an elderly gentleman sitting on his porch. I grabbed the container that I’ve used before and walked up to the gentleman and asked if I could get some water from his water hose. With all the grace and dignity of any man he stood up, he smiled at me and put his hand out to take the container from me. He turned around he said, “I have some water in the house and I will get it for you”. After about 10 minutes he returned with the container full of water. I thanked the man. Thanks to that man I was able to make it home. After getting home felt like kicking myself in the ass for not having my phone or a toolbox in that old truck.
I usually speak to my son in Sacramento California several times during the week. And, I relate to him the adventures that I experience out here in Texas. During all the years I’ve advised my son to get as many tools as he can. Yesterday, my son relayed to me his latest experience with tools. He explained that he had a light that was not working on his truck and he got the replacement part and put it on. But the blinker wasn’t working as it should and so he was going to take it back to a shop to have a mechanic look at. He put his bicycle in the back of his truck so that he could ride it to work after dropping the truck off. As he started his trip he thought he might just look at that replacement part and how it was put on again. He didn’t want to be embarrassed when he got to the shop and have them tell him he put it on the wrong way. So he grabbed a wrench and socket, one 10 mm socket, and checked the turn signal. Well, he discovered he had put it on the wrong way and so he changed it to the right way. And instead of heading for the mechanic shop he headed off for work. In driving to work he came upon a fender bender accident and noticed that one of the people standing at the side of the road was a Doctor that he worked with at the hospital. He pulled over and asked if the doctor was okay and if there was anything he could do. She related that she was okay but she was probably going to have to cancel all of her appointments because the bumper on her Prius was just hanging onto the car and was not drivable in that condition. She was going to call a tow truck and have it towed away. My son looked at the bumper and noticed that it was just one bolt just holding it onto the frame. He looked at the bolt and thought I might be the same size as the one socket that he had in his truck. So he looked at the wrench and socket and it was the same size of the bolt and nut that was holding the bumper onto the Prius. So he loosens and takes off the bolt, took the bumper off the car and put the bumper the back of his truck. He then headed off to work and so did the doctor. Clearly the thought of always having tools in the truck or the car came in handy on this occasion. I say one cannot have enough tools and so I reminded myself to put a set of tools in my vehicles, just in case I break down. Most trucks and cars these days have so much computer influence it is not likely that anyone can fix a car. But there still are a lot of places that you can reach and you can fix before sending it to mechanic shop. I still use many of the same tools that my dad did. I also carry duct tape and a wire hanger. And to be sure I carry a flathead and Philips head screwdriver along with a wrench and socket set.
Pops