Grandsons of L.O. Bolinger

By the summer of 1990, Mike's dad, L. Owen Bolinger, had four grandsons. They were also lake buddies who spent much of their summers together. This is one of my all-time favorite photos. I'm not sure who purchased the hats, but I know that the boys were young enough that they posed without a peep.

About 10 years later, some on both sides of high school, we talked them into another shot.
And just last week, in some of the hottest days of the year, Mike gathered the troops to the picnic table for another entry.

In an upcoming post, I will entertain you with some exploits; you will have faces to match with names.

BTW: full disclosure. Another grandson appeared, sometime between

picture 2 and 3.

He is Alex Bolinger, the darling of all of us and a 3rd grade star.

Try to stay cool, ya'all.

Hoosier Hammerheads 8/7/2010

Our doctor dropped the diagnosis on us, way back in April 2009. When the dust settled, our landscape had changed.

The hub had been studying with local doctor, Mike Wild, honing his skills in aerobatic aviation: that means flipping upside down, turning over and over, nosing the plane to the earth and moving like a corkscrew.

And pulling out before you crash.

Full disclosure: long ago, my father-in-law 'let' me go with him when he put his plane through these maneuvers. Strawberry jello taste best the first time.

Anyway, way back then, way off in the future was the first local competition. Mike hoped to compete. Then, well, things changed. Aerobatics was one sport that crashed.

Until recently. Mike went back to his lessons and then signed up and then showed up and flew.

Check out the promo:

http://www.kokomoperspective.com/lifestyles/article_b99c1b84-9ffc-11df-a881-001cc4c03286.html

And, from the not-too-hot tarmack of the

Kokomo Municiple Airport, some ground action.

Bad Government, Taxes and a Red Lotus Super Seven

In the years following the Allied victory in World War II, the British government was eager to convert its war production to domestic production. Quite simply, the government needed revenue. Victory freed the citizens from the rationing that had controlled their lives during the war years. They wanted new cars and all of those labor saving devices the Americans had in their households.

Noting the desire of its citizens for new cars, the British government announced a tax on the purchase of new cars. The tax was to be temporary. It was to last until the government got on its feet. Of course the British still have the tax on new cars. The government did not lie, either, in declaring that the tax was temporary. It was temporary. It lasted until the tax rate could be raised. There is a lesson to be learned here.

About the same time as the new tax went into effect, there was a young aeronautical engineer named Colin Chapman. Chapman wanted to manufacture cars. Really, he wanted to go formula car racing, but he did not have money to finance a team. He needed to raise money to support his racing ambitions. How could he do this? By manufacturing a car!

What Chapman had going for him was a great deal of practical engineering talent, the easy availability of war surplus steel and aluminum, and a sharp business mind. Chapman discovered that if he built a car which was essentially a rolling chassis with no engine or transmission installed, the government did not consider it to be a new car and, therefore, it was not taxed. These were the circumstances under which Lotus Car came into existence.

The Lotus Seven was Chapman's first car. He advertised it as a car you could drive to work on the weekdays and race on the weekends. All the owner had to do was find a suitable engine and transmission and install them.

The first Lotus Sevens were constructed in a converted horse stable in the English countryside. The car had a frame made of triangulated, steel tubing over which was riveted sheet aluminum, which made up the body. Chapman sent a mechanic to the wrecking yard a couple of time a week to buy any front steering unit and rear end that was available. He designed the Seven so that any number of current British cars could supply the suspension pieces. It is a fair statement to say that no two Lotus Seven's are a like.

About thirty years ago I was having dinner with a friend. We were talking about the various cars and motorcycles we had each owned. My friend casually mentioned that he had a 1964 Lotus Super Seven. I remarked that I knew what that was and had always admired the car, although I had never seen a real one. He told me that his was stored in the back room of a car dealership in Logansport and that it was a rare right-hand drive model.

I thought about the Lotus from time to time for the next 30 years. Three years ago I was having dinner with the same friend and I asked what had become of the Lotus. He told me that so far as he knew it was still in the back of the dealership as it had been at least twenty years since he had looked in on it. I asked him if he minded if I took a look at it. He said he did not care.

The next day I walked into the back room of the car dealership to check out the Lotus. It was sitting in the far corner of the storage area. It was half covered with a dirty tarp. All four tires were flat. One its two carburetors was disassembled on the driver's seat. It was covered in thirty years worth of dirt and grime. But it had not rusted. There was no body damage. It looked like all the bits a pieces were there. I had seen worse. Much worse. There was hope for the car.

The car crouched there and whispered to me. She said, "I was a good car once. I could be a good car again. Somebody just needs to love me. If you leave me here, I will die. Take me home with you."

I responded by saying, "I will be back for you. I will not forget you."

(editor: My husband talks to cars.)

I immediately called my friend and told him I had a proposition for him. If he would deliver the car to my garage and pay for the parts, I would do the restoration for free. The Lotus arrived the next day on a wrecker.

I will not bore you with the details of the restoration, but let me say just three things: first, John Heydick did a masterful job of rebuilding the engine, which runs like a small tornado; second, Tim Donato did a wonderful job rewiring the car: third, I took apart everything down to each rivet, bolt, nut and screw and rebuilt the car.

Here are some pictures of " Lynney Lotus." All the fiberglass is original and has not been repainted. The car is unusual in that it has not been raced or modified since it was originally made.

I love this car. She is a joy to drive. She isn't fast, but then, who cares? She is a piece of British history. She is a good car. She just needed someone to love her. We all need that.

A famous British automotive journalist once described a Lotus Super Seven as a "saucy lass who likes to hike up her skirt and go dancing." Perfectly put.

(editor: and speaking of a saucy lass, who's your co pilot?)

Mike out.

Sisters' 2010

Here's to sisters: short and tall, young and less young. I am blessed to be a part of this group of girlies who met, this year, for fun in sunny southern California.

We are Janelle, Janis, Lynne and Kris. We hail (currently) from Charlotte, NC., Kansas City, MO, Kokomo, IN, and LA. Our annual....we need a new name for Sisters' Weekend...rotated us to California this year. Sister Kris' daughter will attend Westmont University this fall so we drove up (the coast! surfers! sailboats!) to Santa Barbara, about 2 hours north of LA.

Santa Barbara and its neighbor, Montecito, boast perfect weather. Well, actually, they would not boast as THAT would be gauche, and not fitting for this little gem of the settlement.

Sister Jan now pastors a church (!) so we chose mid week for our get-together. I'm just going to call it SISTERS or maybe SISTERS'; wanna vote?

By now (8 times) we have a system. Janis serves as chief financial planner and treasurer (she can have president, vice president and secretary, too. I'm just sayin.....)

We pool a set amount of cash and then plan our lodging, outings and, of course, our meals which turn out to be a treat, no matter where we go. Saying that, in Montecito, we supped, drank, dined, snacked, desserted, on fashion food: each and everything, down to humble oatmeal, sported garnishes of fresh fruit, chocolate straws, squiggled sauces, and, (often MY favorite) etc.

"What is that???" "Oh, look what they did with the...."

Personally, I LOVE fashion food. The delight starts as the waiter (always very cute, where do they get them?) swoops a plate or cup or bowl in front of each of us. Many ooohs and ahhhs as we eyeball each offering. Then, eventually we grow weary of just looking at the food and onto the sampling: each to her selection and then, the eyeballs travel along with a spoon or fork and before you know it, voila! All is consumed. We dab our mouths with napkins, smile at each other and on to the next adventure.

We stayed one night at the Montecito Inn and, to balance to account, the other night at Kris' house. We dined mightily in Montecito and, to balance the account, grabbed some In and Our Burgers in LA.

We all have our talents: Janelle has a eye for framing photos so all of these are hers. If I have only wetted your whistle for our fun, you can see more by scrolling through several blog entries at her site: http://www.showandtellblog.typepad.com/

We enjoyed breakfast at Juliana's, a quaint sidewalk cafe that boasted a full French pastry case.

(Photo taken by very cute waiter, so not framed as well but then, he was very cute)

There is much to do in Montecito. You can eat. We did. You can ride bicycles. We did. You can shop. Of course.

And rising to the north are several foot hills with well-marked paths so we took a short hike that became a 3 hour hike. All good: we carried water and, as I mentioned, we were well-nourished.

Janelle shot us from the rear.

So, distance shot.

We also grabbed this shot sitting on "Kevin's Bench," meant to be a

landmark in case one gets lost.

While technically, we did not get lost, we DID take a bit longer to find our way back to the car.

Later, in LA, we toured the Getty Museum on a beautifully clear day so the panorama of Los Angeles was part of the show.

Soon it was time to mount our various steeds (metal, pressurized) and move on. Next year? We are planning........

Sisters in Santa Barbara

This week, I'm with my sisters for the 8th time, at our annual get away. We decided years ago, we would not become a cliche, seeing each other only at big family events: we plan and execute our OWN big event.

We rotate around the country: Salt Lake, Kansas City, Winona Lake, Charlotte, Los Angeles, and this year, Santa Barbara.

Young sis Janelle has photo and writing talent: I can not improve, so if you'd like to join us (you wish!!), check out her blog.

Alas, I am still not able to link so we'll try it the old way:

www.showandtellblog.typepad.com

Lake Views

Mike’s latest project was to replace the dining room table at the lake. This time, he designed it himself, chose carefully quarter-sawn oak planks for the top, carved and filled inlays at both ends, and then finished it off with many coats of antique oil.

It’s 6 ft x 3 ½ ft, with a utility shelf underneath. You may be able to make out our SCRABBLE game on that shelf.

Who knew? We’ve been married for 36 years and until recently, had never played Scrabble together. At least some of that is due to the fact that Mike prefers more active sports.

He beats me, usually, but I’m getting better. His strategy is to look for all of those bonus squares, use them or at least block me from using them.
My strategy seems to be ‘use up all these letters and get new ones.’ So far, his plan works better, but I’m dazzling us with my word acumen.

“What is a roan??”

“Color of a horse.”
(“War” by Stephen Crane)

My photos really don’t do the table justice.

And, as luck would have it, I captured the hub who had been captured by the sleeping couch. Anyone who lies down there, no matter what time of day, no matter if he is sleepy or not, within 10 minutes has traveled to Napville. Yes, I know it's sideways.

You are getting veeeeeeeeeeeeeeeery sleeeeeeepy.

The Captain and her Crew

At the risk of offending everyone who has dropped by and/or done something special for us, I must say that the biggest treat of the summer was the visit by daughter Allyson and her boys. Those would be OUR grandsons.

We knew that the Army was giving her a week of leave sometime during these months; discussions back and forth about logistics, time, patience, and etc. culminated in their arrival to spend a week at the lake.

In recent months, Allyson had said that she wished she could just ‘sit on the pier and look at the lake.’ It does for her what it does for her dad. And, the boys are now getting to the age when lake play is great play.

We charted a course that missed a few details. We assumed that Fort Wayne was a regional airport so Allyson flew into Indianapolis. That’s a three hour drive to the lake. And as she said, she planned the flights exactly backward of what would have been better: she arrived after midnight and left at 7 AM, so that was a 6 hour trek for Mike, who volunteered, by the way.

And, as it turns out, there are many non- stops every day from Fort Wayne to Dallas. Fort Wayne is 40 miles from the lake.
No matter: something to refine for the next trip.

I was up when they arrived and helped get the boys to bed, although they would be up again by 7. On Allyson’s bed, I placed the token of a trip to the lake: a trashy magazine about celebrities we don’t know, open to a ‘fashion page.’

It’s an inside joke; she got it.

They spent the week with us during the hottest week of the summer, but as Allyson says often, it’s nothing like San Antonio. Except that day when the heat index rose over 100, she conceded that Indiana was coming close.

The adults groused and dripped but not the boys. From breakfast to bedtime, they ran, climbed, swam, biked, rode in the boat, rode on the tube, ran some more, until they dropped. We did, too.

Allyson took each boy on a moped tour of the city.

Gramma took the boys to the Warsaw Public Library (air conditioned) for some reading time.

Then, Allyson joined us; we got coffee and sat while she read to them.
Then, back to the lake.

Big milestones: neither had swum much in a lake. They are accustomed to the clear blue of a pool. They decided that the lake is good.

Drew, who lives in a subdivision with steep hills, took the training wheels off and took off on our flat streets.

Noah, who is a bit timid but wants to do what big brother does, climbed up next to Drew on the inflatable tube and held on.

We tubed until the grown ups were exhausted; the boys were still giving ‘thumbs up’ for more.

Mike and I shopped at an After the Fourth sale, stocking up on really cool fireworks. Allyson reminded us that fireworks are illegal in Texas so this was a chance for the boys to see some real stuff.

One night, we set up on the cement ledge by sister Lisa’s house, ourselves seated a safe distance, and the big boys lit fuses.

Much fun was had by all although if we charted delight, the big boys would be off the grid.

And every night, Grampa took us to the Ice Cream Shop for cones and cups. And many many drips on chins, hands, shirts, and knees.

Saturday 3 AM (yawn) came too soon and they were off to catch a plane.
Their trip home was eventful: delays, delays, delays: they arrived home after a very long day.

Allyson reports that the boys did ‘just fine.’
They will be back.