Since New Years
eve is "amature night" for lots of young people, we try NOT to go out--just watch the BALL DROP if I can stay up that late...What are YOUR plans? Paul
Comfort the puppy and kitten during all the fireworks.
I go on call for work at midnight that night so it will be a quiet evening in for me. If it isn't too cold I may even be out in the garage keeping my T company.
Rick - if it's puppy's first fireworks the most comforting thing you can do is to not make a big deal about it.
We've not gone out for New Years for a couple of decades now. Since moving to Ecuador we watch locals burning effigies, apparently a popular tradition as they're even sold "ready to go" curbside for a good old fashioned "take out" burning
Usually go to bed at 10:00 PM. When our son Dan lived here, he used to go outside and play his trumpet at Midnight, but now it is very quiet around here as we live in the mountains.
We have a brunch on New Years day and if it's not raining, I drive a T to it.
I'm with you Norman. Our coach turns into a pumpkin at 10 PM. By 10:00:30 I'm sawing logs! New years will get here with our without me being vertical. I prefer the horizontal greeting myself!
New Years Eve and The Fourth of July present similar behaviors. The best thing to do is crawl under a large iron pot and wait until it blows over.
I would love to go out on New Year's Eve and sit there drinking soda while laughing at all the miscreants who feel compelled to get drunk and make an ass out of themselves. On the other hand I am scared to death of their driving skills while intoxicated so I stay home where it is reasonably safe. If they do try to get me they have to negotiate a sharp turn into my driveway, avoid several large trees, make it downhill 100 yards on a slick driveway, do a sharp turn without winding up on the septic tank and sliding into the lake. I guess if they can manage to do all that, I'm fair game as a target of opportunity.
In the past I would ring in the New Year with an old car, if nothing was falling from the sky. After watching the ball drop I would head to the garage, fire up one of my Ts and head into town. One revolution around the square, down and back up Main street with a half revolution around the square and then back home.
Candy and I decided long ago to let the amatures go out and get crazy. We will go to the Spaghetti Factory for a dinner around 6 and be home safe by 7 pm.
Then it's check the tube for the eastern feed for the ball to drop then be in bed by 10pm, ear plugs in place. Never figured out why the idiots have to shoot guns and fireworks over and over. Just terrorizes our poor little dogs.
Another year finished and a new one just around the corner. Hope everyone has a great new year and gets lots of miles under their T's. We plan on going to the National in Calgary with our old barn fresh 1912. That will about do it for our T touring this summer as there are lots of "other things" that will require our attention. We have some other brass era cars to take out and play with as well. Then there is the loud and fast cars my wife wants to get out and stretch their legs too. So much to do and so little time.
WE hope all our chatters here have a wonderful and exciting 2015.
Party at the development clubhouse. Walk there. Walk home. The only morons I'll be seeing are on TV. The older I get the "best ideas I've ever had" list gets longer & longer.
I'll probably be in bed before 12:00. I've got a couple bottles of beer in the refrigerator that have been there for months. Maybe I'll drink one with y supper.
Going out for New Year's Eve is for the amateurs
I agree with you Bob.
The roads aren't safe but my pillow and I have a "date" so I'll not be worrying about it.
I will have a few drinks at home on New Years eve and maybe watch that ball dropping at 11 PM on TV.(Central time).
I will stay off the roads as Texas has it drunks also. (Driving a T would be very unsafe)
I am in a rural area and have some acreage of my own, so the fireworks will not be next to my house but I am sure I will hear some.
I hope everyone will have a good 2015
Hi! I'm new to the Forum and this is my first post. I've been following a lot of comments and subjects and find quite a bit of them interesting. What I have to write about first, though, are the comments that my husband, Wayne Sheldon, wrote about me re: New Year's Eve. I'm not sure why he wrote them as none of them are true at all. I would love nothing more than to go out New Year's Eve. Wayne has been having some problems so maybe he used me as a "scapegoat". I hope everyone has an enjoyable New Year's Eve and a GREAT New Year!
Wayne,........I think you're in trouble! Hope you're O.K. with corn flakes for breakfast, a "PBJ" for lunch and mac & cheese for dinner, and maybe a TV dinner once in awhile!
I will be working, likely stitching back together people who were talking when they should have been listening
Wayne, If you have not already done it, I suggest that you buy Linda some flowers and a box of Chocolates.
Nope, Harold, Wayne is not in trouble (he's very lucky!). I have a forgiving nature and all is fine. We might join some others and go for a snowshoe hike New Year's Eve.
John, thank you so much for your suggestions! I told Wayne about them and he said he was already thinking about doing that. I told him not to buy candy, though, as we already have so much left over from Christmas. I made Fudge and Rocky Road for the bunch we had here at home. They are both long-time family recipes and I always make a double-batch of each. I'll take some flowers though! Thanks much!
Hope everyone has a wonderful and very good 2015 and that it treats you well!!
I did the drive around the block and town square last year at Midnight. May do it again this year if it's not pouring buckets! Other then that stay home for the same reason as above. Even when I was drinking, we stayed home or walked to the pub.
We'll go out for dinner EARLY to avoid people who will get like I used to on New Years Eve when I was young....
Give the car a good wash and wipe down . Take 'er for a spin.
This will make the 22nd consecutive year that I'll go to a dance and leave the wifey at home. .. . You see, I'm a bass horn player with a polka/variety/big band orchestra and will be at a gig. She is OK with it and content to stay on the farm. Happy New Year to all !!
This story takes place around 1976, back when I and my two musician buddies, Vinnie and Dave, worked as a dance band. Of course, New Year's Eve was the most lucrative day of the year for a musician, but sometimes the distance we had to travel to get to the gig ate into our paycheck. Our agent, Marvin Howard, had a tendency to send us to the boonies of Upstate New York, to hotels that had been closed since Labor Day, but which opened their nightclubs for one single night of New Year's Eve profits. This made for difficulty in finding sleeping quarters, afterward. On one such occasion, my drummer, Dave, had arranged through a friend of a friend for us to sleep in a mobile home trailer that had been parked in the middle of a field, somewhere. We were told there was some propane left in the tank for heat and that the lights were powered by a 12-volt car battery which probably still held half a charge, but the plumbing (meaning the toilet) was unusable because it had been winterized with antifreeze. No problem. As we were young, the idea of writing our names in the snow was not all that objectionable.
After we finished playing the job, which ended at 2 AM, we had to locate the trailer, which was about sixty miles away from our gig by way of mountain roads, through a blinding snow storm that buffeted and threatened to overturn our 1961 Volkswagen Microbus.
Fortunately, the extreme weight of 1970's-vintage keyboards, amplifiers and speaker cabinets, plus that of three musicians, did help stabilize this asthmatic German powermower and the huge but lightweight sheet-metal body that had been fastened, with metric bolts, to its chassis. Frontal crash protection for the driver was provided by a headlight, the housing upon which I used to rest my left foot and thus keep it warm while driving during winter nights such as this.
When we finally located the correct field, which, by the way, is quite a feat at night in Upstate New York, it turned out to be a quarry-site strewn with elephant-sized boulders and pits large enough to swallow a truck. This necessitated carefully threading our way through to find a safe parking spot about a hundred yards from the trailer. So far, so good. We duly wrote our names in the swiftly accumulating snow, let ourselves into the trailer, switched on the car-battery-powered lights and then chattered beneath stiff, indescribably cold bed sheets until the propane heating system warmed things up a bit.
Upon awakening, we felt the not-unexpected need to engage in some more yellow journalism, but when we tried to open the outward-swinging trailer door, we were surprised to find ourselves meeting with considerable resistance. This was caused by snow which had accumulated to a point well above the flight of exterior stairs. When we got the door open wide enough to squeeze through, we beheld about twenty acres of snow-covered boulders. Theoretically, one of these was not a boulder, but a Volkswagen bus surrounded by very deep, snow-hidden pits, which we presumed hadn't gotten up and walked away during the night. Imagine how long it took us to find the bus, dig it out, plow a meandering pathway out of there and then drive home.
No. Imagine longer than that.
You see, we were city boys and we only thought we knew what snow was. We were totally unprepared for the task ahead of us and had not even so much as taken with us a change of clothing. Dave, our drummer, had recently seen a movie wherein a large group of Southern sheriffs, deputies and state troopers had been hunting for two escaped convicts and their method of search was to line up like Rockettes and literally comb the fields. Dave proposed we employ the same method to find our bus, though he felt we should spread out about twenty feet apart to make up for our lack of manpower. None of this made any sense to me at all, but I didn't give voice to that opinion because... well, it's hard to sound or feel authoritative while standing chest-deep in snow, wearing a tuxedo, bow-tie and disco platform shoes. And so, the three of us began a search pattern in our tuxedos, literally plowing three parallel grooves through the snow with our satin cummerbunds and frilly shirts. The snow was sufficiently soft and fluffy to muffle sound, so we had to shout at one another to be heard. After a while, I half-noticed a gentle-sounding 'whoosh.' Not thinking much of it, I pushed on until Vinnie glanced across the intervening distance at me and yelled, "Hey Bob! Where's Dave?"
I looked rearward and noticed the middle groove had stopped about forty yards behind. There then occurred one of those odd instances when two confused people glance at each other, then at the object of their perplexity and then back at each other in mutual, puppylike, cocked-head noncomprehension. The truth eventually dawned on us: Dave had fallen into one of the snow-hidden pits, unable to shout loud enough for us to hear him. Vinnie and I backtracked, each man in his own snow groove and found Dave, soaked from head to foot in wet snow, screaming malediction from the bottom of a white hole in the ground. Retrieving him was every bit as clumsy a sight as you are imagining.
Having reestablished however much dignity as one can under such circumstances, Dave then insisted on switching from the center position to one of the outer grooves. Again, to me that made no particular sense, but as I still found myself waddling through snow dressed as Batman's arch nemesis and thus, feeling profoundly noncredible, I simply shrugged and made the switch. The situation would have been farcical enough had Dave not, a few minutes later, actually found a second deep pit from the bottom of which to proclaim the sincerest of blasphemies. Larry and Curly looked at each other and withdrew Moe from the hole.
Voob, voob, voob.
Eventually, we discovered a giant snowdrift with large bug eyes.
Bug eyes like a Volkswagen.
Now, you may be wondering why the headlights were not covered with snow. That was because all though the night as the snow was falling, the headlights remained quite warm as the headlight switch had been left in the 'ON' position. The consequence of such action is universally well known. Switching off the headlights at that point was a worthless gesture, but I'm a tad compulsive. In fact, I also locked the doors.
This new development left us with what seemed an insurmountable obstacle to ever getting home. We were beaten. Absolutely helpless, we were about to give in to despair when, with a muffled clank and a puff of black smoke, Vinnie had a thought. "Did anybody leave the lights on in the trailer?"
Dave responded, "Yeah. They're on."
Rusty wheels were starting to turn in our heads. As we were sitting here commiserating over our self-made disaster, our only remaining hope was, at this very moment, draining away into the dim, yellowish light bulbs inside the trailer. For the briefest of moments, we three faced each other in an exchange of bulging eye-contact. Then, as though some spring-action mechanism had been triggered, the three of us simultaneously bolted for the trailer.
Dave fell in a hole.
As Vinnie and I bent over the hole, Dave waved us off, screaming, "Turn off the flippin' lights!!!" (Okay, he didn't actually use the word, 'flippin.') Vinnie and I comprehended the priority to which Dave was alluding and we completed our mad dash to the trailer. When we got there, the door was locked.
"Where are the keys?"
"Dave has them."
"Yeah I'm kidding. They're in my pocket."
"You son of a gun, open the flipping door!!!"
It was with considerable relief that we saw the bulbs were still burning, which of course implied there was still some juice left in the car battery, somewhere in the trailer. Of course, we immediately switched off all the lights. This made it difficult to ascertain the location of the battery, so we propped open the door to let in some daylight. After a brief search, we found the battery under the kitchen sink and luckily, it was indeed a 12-volt, Sears Die-Hard car battery of the same approximate size as that in our bus. Now, all we had to do was unbolt the thing, carry it to the bus, hook it up and start the engine.
"You got a pair of pliers?"
"Yeah, I always keep one in the breast pocket of my tux."
I knew that clipped to a bracket under the front seat of the bus was a toolbox full of crescent wrenches. This toolbox, according to the information stamped into the lid, was original equipment, courtesy of the manufacturer, Volkswagen of Wolfsburg, Germany. We hiked back to the bus, grabbed the toolbox and returned to the trailer, which, according to the logo stamped on its side, had been manufactured by the Armstrong Trailer Company of Kansas City, Missouri. Vinnie volunteered to crawl under the sink and unbolt the battery, which was fine by me. He found a semi-comfortable position under there, stuck out his hand and said, "Okay, gimme a 9/16ths."
I searched in vain through the Volkswagen toolbox for a 9/16ths-inch wrench and took almost a full minute to reach the obvious, sad conclusion you arrived at back in Kansas City, Missouri. I won't insult your intelligence with an explanation. Now, inside the cabinet of one of my big amplifier speakers, I kept a few household items which experience had taught would come in handy now and then. Among these were a few extra extension cords, a pair of 3-hole electric-outlet adapters, a spare satin bow-tie and an ordinary pair of pliers. On this occasion, those pliers would come to the rescue. We went back to the bus to fetch them.
Because of the top-heavy nature of our slab-sided bus, which wanted desperately to tip over in the slightest breeze, we always loaded the heaviest of our musical equipment — stuff like big amplifier speaker cabinets — at the bottom and the lighter stuff, like drums and galoshes, on top.
Galoshes? ... as in snowboots? Yes. Manufactured by the Totes/Isotoner company of Cincinnati, Ohio. I had forgotten we had them aboard — just another one of a million little exasperations that assailed us that day. To get at the pliers, which were at the bottom of the pile, we had to completely unload the bus into the snow — a pleasurable task in subfreezing weather, but hey, we now had galoshes over our disco platform shoes! Armed with the pliers, we made our way back to the trailer, unbolted the Sears Die-Hard battery and then carried it back to the bus. For no particular reason, we decided to load the musical equipment back into the bus before installing the replacement battery. When I opened the bus's door, we saw something that would have profited us greatly had we noticed it earlier: The interior lights came on. Vinnie and I looked at each other. Now, neither of us really believed the bus's battery could have recovered to the point of actually cranking the engine, but curiosity was screaming to be satisfied and it would only take a twist of the ignition key to find out.
After we finished returning and reinstalling the Sears Die-Hard battery back into the trailer, it was time to head for the bus, shovel it out of the snow and create some kind of path so we could get the heck out of there.
"I guess we really should get Dave out of that hole."
We were about thirty miles down the road when Vinnie said, "Did you turn off the heat?" Now, Volkswagen Microbuses had the same tiny air-cooled engine as the Volkswagen Bug. There was no radiator full of hot liquid and consequently, no heater coil. What insignificant heat was available to Bug owners was ducted about ten inches from the hot exhaust manifold to the passenger compartment. However, in a vehicle as long and capacious as our bus, which had its engine at the utmost rear and its occupants at the utmost front, the heater ductwork was only so much useless sheet-metal.
I responded to Vinnie's question. "The heat's full on, not that it makes any difference."
"No, no." he replied, "I meant, did you turn off the heat in the trailer?"
"I thought Dave did that."
What I had said didn't make any sense at all as we had only just exhumed Dave, but I asked him anyway, "Hey Dave, did you turn off the heat in the trailer?"
He still wasn't talking to us.
Back at the trailer, we not only found that we had left the heat on, but the door propped open as well. Now, one of the lessons learned from my Dad's cabin in the Poconos was that woodland creatures, such as field mice, are attracted to warmth during the winter. What greeted us at the door was the cast of the Disney movie, Bambi.
Okay, I'm exaggerating. But judging by the droppings on the floor, there was some sort of critter hiding inside and we couldn't just lock it in to starve and rot.
Now, you've probably been taught that, with the exception of mice and deer, most woodland creatures hibernate during winter. Forget that nonsense. You also probably think of raccoons as adorable, intelligent and affectionate little creatures who behave exactly as you've seen them on The Tonight Show. Forget that too. Raccoons don't respond to the stupid kissing sounds that cat people, like Vinnie, was making, nor will they come for dog people, like me, who whistle. This Raccoon was pregnant and behaved like a Tasmanian Devil, whirling around, hissing through bared gnashing teeth, grunting, growling and generally scaring the heck out of what she must have thought were three maitre'ds. We couldn't shoo her out with a shovel, she didn't care how loudly we shouted and was also indifferent to the cacophony of garbage can lids being banged together.
Fortunately, there was an accordion in the bus.
By the time we finally got to the interstate, night had fallen and we still had to drive a few hundred miles to get back home. We were each about $100 richer for the experience.
The funny thing was, I had imagined show biz to be glamorous. One has to laugh.
I severely curtailed gigging about a year after I got married and then spent a first New Year's Eve going out to engage in the festivities as a nonprofessional. As such, my bride and I discovered that crowds were overly large, lines were overly long, menus were overly truncated, service was terrible and only the least senior of chefs were on duty. The evening terminated with a feeling of accomplishment inconsistent with anything resembling leisure.
As of later times, New Year's Eve has been best spent comfortably watching Dick Clark's annual Times Square bash on TV and getting up during commercials to pop some Pillsbury into the oven. The crucial moment is accompanied by the sound of a popping cork, gentle fizz and two Flintstone glasses clinking together.
And somewhere out there, the ghost of Guy Lombardo watches over countless exhausted musicians who, by this hour, are fantasizing about winding cables about elbows, loading the cars, heading home and drooling into warm pillows.
And somewhere out there, a multitude of immense boulders in a pitted field are giggling as they reminisce about a New Years past.
Working wife also working until 23:00 we will meet at the house have a glass of champaign and probably sleep the rest of the night in the "big" recliner...Good Times!
Nice one Bob. Thanks for the laugh.
Best wishes for a Healthy New Year, and may your mind continue to compose such treasures.
Judi and I are not big on New Years stuff (pretty much a wasted holiday). We usually just stay home and I make a special dinner. This year, I'm on the air New Years Eve day and New Years day but get off at 3 p.m. and then my chef daughter plans on making dinner for us: steak and lobster tail!!!
Not going anywhere now for sure...I think I'm coming down with that dang flu.
Hi Bob, Kind of a long read, but it's an equally good laugh. Thanks for sharing it.
Happy New Year to all.....
I shouldn't even tell my New Year's story, as I can't come close to matching Bob's. Like Bob, I always enjoyed the double-time pay for New Year's gigs, but I didn't like spending New Year's away from my wife and family. We had an out of town gig many years ago, and basically our guitar player who was in a different car got drunk and passed out some where along the way. The drummer made it, and the keyboard player and I had all of the equipment, but no guitar player (I played bass). Since we had the guitar player's guitar, on the first set I played guitar and the keyboard player who is a passable bass player played bass. We kept waiting for our guitar player to show up, but he never did so I played guitar all night. Very nerve-wracking. The whole time your wondering if he's gotten into a wreck or something. The people that hired us were totally oblivious - they never asked about the keyboard that never got played. After the gig they tried to hire us for the next year, but we demurred.
I put up with our alcoholic guitar player for quite awhile - 'cause actually he could play better drunk than I could sober. Finally I had had enough and quit. Later he joined AA and got sober, thank heavens.
Which leads to: This year I'm playing a New Year's gig again tonight for the first time any many years. I guess I'll never learn.
At any rate, Happy New Year to all!
Dinner out 5:30/7:30. Champagne with friends at my home 8:00/9:30...Nightie night 10:30....Sleep tight. Bless you all. In my younger oil field days I spent to many many Christmas's / New years out on some distant oil rig dealing with this or that but now it's with friends and family. God bless you all....Jerry...
Candy and I had an early dinner at the Spaghetti Factory , she had hot tea and I had a Pepsi with dinner. We were home by 7 and in our jammies by 7:30. Watching the feeds for the ball drop and thinking we will be in bed by normal time 10 pm.
Did take the 1912 Torpedo out for a spin around the block. Was sunny and crisp and my ears were bright red by the time I got back to the barn. It was my last T drive for 2014.
HAPPY NEW YEAR All Chatters here,
We're up and about and enjoying a sunny New Year's Day.
I just read this thread this morning and really enjoyed "sharing" in everyone's New Year's Eve activities. We stayed in as usual and had a champagne dinner at home. In the best Spanish tradition, at midnight we ate a grape at each strike of the clock on the TV.
Bob Coiro, have you published anything? The recount of your 1976 New Year's Eve was my first real read this year, and what a delightful way to start 2015. Thank you!
All the best to the Forum's readers and writers as well as their families and friends. May 2015 bring us all Peace, Prosperity and Good Health to enjoy them with.
Blessings to all.
We'll be eating our black-eyed peas today for good luck in the coming year. I don't know where that tradition came from, but my family has done it as far back as I can remember.
My wife told me yesterday that she had read about a Spanish tradition of eating 12 grapes; that was the first time I had heard about that one. Apparently that ranks right up there with eating black-eyed peas -- it all depends upon where you come from.
Todays featured meal will be Red Beans, Wild Rice and sawmill Gravy
Every year on new years, this is what my family and all our paternal relatives eat. This is for any one meal, ie, breakfast, Lunch, or dinner.