29 February 2008

Leap Day



It is Trooper Bart's Birthday, my former Congressman. He only gets one every four years, so he is holding a fundraiser. If my legal address was still in his District Up North, I would consider a small donation for his current campaign for Congress. They are all up for election this season, and you never know what being on the list of donors might get you.

I have no doubt he is going to prevail. He is a Democrat, and represents the poorest part of a troubled state. I think it is going to be a sweep, but I miss living in a place where you have a choice. Our local blowhard sends me literature all the time, though I don't know why. This district is so solidly Blue that he could be caught in flagrante delecto with a live boy and a dead girl and it wouldn't make any difference.

That is not the case back in Michigan, though this season it might as well be.

Trooper Bart shares the day with some unusual customs. In some places in the world, women are permitted to ask men to do something they would not normally do, beyond taking out the trash, and I have my own.

I took the Hubrismobile over to the Hubris dealer to have the windshield replaced. I know it is just asking to have it shattered again, but what the hell. The crack bothered me. There is a chain to all things dealing with machines, though, so I had to ensure that the Worlds Fastest Production Pickup would actually start before I left, so that I have a backup.

With all that unusual activity, I was at the Hubris body shop well before seven to drop it off, regrettful that there would be no incisive commentary or bile to spread across the morning.

They don't like to take bodywork on Fridays at the Hubris dealer, since there is the risk that they might not complete the labor, and the last thing they want is the hubris-filled owners filled with angst about not being able to use their toys over the weekend. Apparently the German craftsmen only work a limited schedule to protect their Turks.

I didn't care. Having the truck is a handy option, and having slept most of the winter, it needs to be run, anyway.

Walking back from the dealer I strolled past the new luxury condoms along Henderson. There seems to be activity on the lot next to the two complete rows, and they may be preparing to pour new foundations, now that the risk of a hard freeze is gone.

Steve, the dauntless publisher of the HeraldTriblog, sent an undercover reporter (his wife) into the cheery Sales Office to check out what they want for the things.

With options and a corner unit, the price is not from “the 700's,” as the sign says. It is more like a million bucks. The manager said that only four of the twelve have sold thus far, and Steve marveled that anyone in their right mind would plunk down that kind of coin in a shaky market with decent single-family homes on sale in the county for much less.

I understand where he is coming from. The fancy new blocks of row houses are oppressively close, and when they march down the block, they are going to fill in the sky and divide it into narrow brick canyons.

The plan is for them to flank George Mason Drive, and it will be interesting to integrate all those millionaires into the neighborhood. Preparations for their new neighbors are continuing as well. I walked past The Pit where the big affordable-rent apartment building is going to rise, immediately behind the row houses and just across the parking lot from Big Pink.

The east side of the hole is already walled in new gray concrete, and the pillars are rising to support the roof of the parking garage. The earth-movers are still working on the red native soil to the west, pulling up the red dirt and dropping it in big loads into the waiting dump trucks, like the one that dropped the load and peppered the Hubrismobile with chips and dents.

 My self esteem has still not completely recovered from that.

I stopped for a moment to watch the battalion of little men who were working on the floor of the pit, digging square holes for the footings of the pillars, and pulling the plywood framing off the ones that had been poured around the re-bar the day before.

 I noticed that the ones closest to Pershing were a little unusual. On at least two of the pillars, the steel re-bar was visible protruding from the uncured concrete the full height of the structure.

I am only a sidewalk superintendent, but as I understand it, that permits intrusion of water and subsequent corrosion. It seems to me it would significantly limit the strength of the foundation, what with all those apartments and people piled on top of them.

But what do I know. There are plenty of pillars down there, and what is a little weakness in a building that big? Besides, the construction is moving so fast that no one will ever see it anyway.

You would probably have to leap up and down for years to make it fall down.

Copyright 2008 Vic Socotra
www.vicsocotra.com

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