electronic throttle control

Hello, and happy Martin Luther King, Jr. Day.  Just the one comma?  No commas, so's to avoid the issue entirely?

The Jeep dealer's service department is open, but MR isn't, and apparently the alert I got yesterday isn't a not-safe-to-drive warning light.  So it's not the most inconvenient time for a vehicle glitch, and shortly I'll be taking my vehicle in to see what's the deal with the service-engine warning surrounding the electronic throttle control.  I didn't know our engine powers ares being modulated by such things these days, but it seems they are.  It's the thing that's thought to be what goes wrong with the calmly named "sudden unintended acceleration" (which seems to me like it calls for a name more like "OSHIT ACCELER-AAAAHHHHH!").  But when it's not maybe being responsible for that, it's making changes in engine power smoother somehow.  In my case the throttler may've just been freaked out that I was going 70ish mph, on accounta I go weeks without getting on the hi-way.

Taped my heel this morning.  Second time I've done that, trying to tend to this latest spate of walking challenge.  Did you know people tape their heels?  Helps the plantar fascia.  One of those things most younger people don't (need to) know about.

Just doin' what I can to keep on a-movin' along.

Yesterday after tenor sectional I sat in the parking lot of the west-side Lowe's figuring out on my phone that (vinyl lp) records probably don't fit in a wooden crate they sell, and then I went inside anyway just to look at stoves.  Which were next to laundry machines.  It was intimidating and weird, and I felt funny physically, and ugh.  But then I stocked up on various things at Meijer's's, which was good to get taken care of.  Except they don't sell fewer than 12 eggs.  So this morning I made a two-egg NickMuffin.  It was good, but a little messy.

About time to go see about the Jeep.

Postcard of the Day

 

loaner, and nice thing

I got a loaner.  At first the dude thought it might have to be a pick-up, which most people don't want, but I wouldn't have minded, despite their being a little slidy in the snow (and there's been a steady dry-crystally flurry thing all day).  But he then brought a Compass around, and when he realized it didn't have any gas in it, he got a Cherokee.  A 2017 Cherokee.  And, compared to my ("smaller") Renegade, it sucks!  It's much less roomy inside.  All it has going for it (comparatively) is more little cubbies for your sunglasses and such, and a range of speeds in the intermittent windshield wipers.

Nonetheless, it's always a little exciting to have a rental or a loaner.  Just to experience driving a different vehicle a while.  And, lately, to make me more grateful for my own wheels.


The nice thing is that a guy named Tony at the Charles Village Pub back in B-more was kind enough to send me a picture of a picture on their wall, prompted only by an out-of-the-blue email request from me.  It's a series of shots of Olga Korbut on the balance beam, gradually getting closer and closer to sitting on her own head and looking at her own heels, from the back.  I used to love to get that booth.  And, sure nuff, there underneath are, in addition to Muhammed Ali, good ol' Earl Weaver, and Brooksie next to him.  Just like I was a-settin' there.

What I like about it most is following her face.  I guess you can't see it too well, even if you click-for-bigger, but it's basically concentrate, concentrate, concentrate, concentrate, concentrate, concentrate, consentrate, SMILE.

Who wouldn't be tickled, having pulled off a totally unlikely thing like that there?