Dogs Don't Need No Sink
was once a time I could spend a three day weekend in my 66 Chevy
Caprice, but I was solo then. But I did live out of a Toyota Corolla
with 2 other guys taking highway 1 all the way to TJ for a couple
of weeks, getting 86'ed from Pasadena along the way and getting
some real weird looks from the beautiful people as I took a few
unshaven cuts with the Big Lumber just off 17 Mile Drive, taking
it out toward Japan and drawing it gently toward Hawaii...You
think The Rage could handle a few weeks doing dishes in a bathroom,
eh? While I didn't even have to take one shower on my back porch
like some serious remodelers, my cushy middle age existence had
me whining like a dog, kicked out onto that same back porch. But...note
that I said "had?" That's right, baby. Whine no more.
THE SINK IS IN! Plumbed and ready! We heated up pizza in our own
While you might think this is crazy, I believe going without a
sink has brought out some more of my "dog under the porch"
instincts. I have eaten really bad, chased Manciata through the
woods and up mountains, ran through creeks (and loved it), ran
through a foot of snow (and loved it) and ran a 5:06 in January.
Strange how a remodeling project or working at a certain wafer
fab plant can make you feel like you want to chase after a pickup,
but it does.