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R. TERRY (152.163.201.63)
Rating: N/A
Votes: 0 (Vote!) | | Posted on Wednesday, December 26, 2001 - 6:52 am: | |
Santa visited the bus this Christmas. He looked a lot like Norman Kogan, a former Soviet Union immigrant with that distinctive Russian accent, now many years an American citizen and the proud owner of a nearly bone-crushing handshake, a byproduct of his occupation.
At 5 AM on Christmas morning, I was awoken by the seeping cold that was beginning to turn my bus into a refrigerator. I reached over to the area heater to turn up the thermostat. Nothing. I looked at the clock and it was blank. Apparently a circuit breaker had tripped, a frequent occurrence in my all electric bus running off a 30 amp cord. (I've learned to turn off the water heater when using the microwave and any other appliance at the same time.)
The goose bumps get bigger and bigger as I check the breaker box on the end of the kitchen counter. All circuits are fine, none tripped. Blast it! I hate it when this happens! I have to get dressed, put on a coat, walk through the parking lot, open the lab, turn off the alarm, turn on the lights, find a flash light, go into the black and white darkroom and reset the breaker that feeds the bus. Only this time it doesn't need to be reset.
That's bad. There's something wrong with the Salvage Yard on Wheels. On Christmas day. Even if I figure out what it is, how am I going to get it fixed? Where am I going to get the part? Not even our 24-hour Home Depot is open. Bad timing, you miserable monster!
I get the volt meter out and check the lines in the circuit breaker panel in the bus. To me, this is no different than if you handed me a nuclear bomb that was counting down to zero and told me to disarm it. OK. Let's see...put this probe here, and this one....here? Bingo. It moved. Juice. No juice here. Juice there.
It didn't mean a thing to me. The bus was dead, it was getting colder, and... visions of sugarplums were dancing in my head.
I hated to do it, I really did. Call a guy on Christmas day to report your lights were out in your motorhome? No, that ain't right! The first twenty times I called Kogan Electric, Norman didn't answer. At 6:30 in the evening, he finally picked up the phone...which was in his pocket...at the movie theater...where he was buying popcorn...
Now I feel real bad. He would not take nevermind for an answer. He insisted on meeting me at the bus right now, in 10 minutes! No, no, no, I told him. It's not necessary. See the movie, have a good time, I'll stay at my brother's place since I was there for Christmas dinner anyway. He said he'll be there in 10 minutes.
It's Christmas day, for Heaven's sake. What am I going to do now? I just ruined this poor, ridiculously hardworking fellow's holiday. So it's cold in the bus, big deal—I should have kept my mouth shut.
My two kids and I met Norman at the bus at 8 PM, the fastest I could get there. He was waiting patiently in his service truck, parking lights on. He put on his electrician's tool belt—everything you need to build the Space Shuttle— and a miner's lamp and went to work. First he checked the circuit breakers in the lab. Then he got on his hands and knees in the bus and took readings off the circuit panel. In his best Russian English he told himself he had power here...and no power here. He turned around and looked at me and said, "I'm glad you called me."
That bad, huh? Now I am glad, too. He went outside and stuck the probes in the outlet box. Plenty of power there, he mumbled. Then he took apart the plug on the end of the bright yellow power cable. Looks good, he said. Then he walked the cable back to the bus and into the old AC service bay where the cable goes through the floor up to the circuit breaker box in the kitchen.
There it was.
The power cable was just a fancy extension cord with a big twist-lock connector on the end that connected to the other big twist-lock connector hanging out of the service panel. It was melted into a big ball of black goo! Norman looked at me again and said, "You're lucky this didn't catch the bus on fire."
I guess I am.
Before long Norman had cut out the burned up connector, ran the cable end directly into the electrical panel, secured it to the bus, tested all circuits, rounded up his equipment and tools and returned them to his service truck. I went into the lab, opened the safe, grabbed a handful of money and met him back in the parking lot where he was teaching my kids the art of self defense. His advice: If he's bigger than you, run the other way!
I held out my hand to thank him for his extraordinary service. We shook and he crushed every bone in my hand! Pulverized. My advice: Never shake an electrician's hand! With my one good remaining hand, I offered him the money, most assuredly well earned. He threw his hands up into the air and backed away. I stepped forward, intending to put the money in his shirt pocket, but he ran away from me saying, "No, no, no." He ran around a palm tree and got behind me. He said, "No, no, I cannot." I said, "No, no, you can." He said, "No, you don't understand: Today is Christmas. I do this for you."
It was Christmas, all right. This year, Santa looked exactly like Norman Kogan.
Merry Christmas, Norman.
And, to Ian and all the wonderful bus people who keep all of us company right here, have the Happiest of Holidays and the Very Best New Year!
We be busin'!
Randy Terry |
R.C.Bishop (128.123.88.6)
Rating: N/A
Votes: 0 (Vote!) | | Posted on Wednesday, December 26, 2001 - 9:41 pm: | |
Great Story, Randy. That is what Christmas is ALL about. GIVING> Think about it!
God Bless you and your family,
RCB |
Jim Wilke (199.181.167.68)
Rating: N/A
Votes: 0 (Vote!) | | Posted on Friday, December 28, 2001 - 2:00 pm: | |
I say "God Bless Norman Kogan".
Jim-Bob |
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