Late Winter's Snow

Between a foot and a foot and-a-half of thick, wetish snow fell on Ludwig and Gertrude Sunday.

 It was by far the biggest snow of this really mild Winter, and easily the biggest since we've been in the 80 Elsie, and probably the biggest of Tater Tot's life.
Ludwig handled it just fine. (After I fixed a non-starting issue by putting some gas in him.)

Sleeper of the Year, 1974

Unlike Ludwig, this is a deluxe Campmobile--the propane tank hiding out under the sliding door powers the integrated stove (Ludwig just has a compartment), and it has an actual fridge (Ludwig just has an icebox).

The Turn of the Screw

The puzzle of bent metal that shrouds an air-cooled VW engine is largely held in place by dozens of what are apparently called "cheesehead" screws, and they're all straight slot (re: annoying). The slot is nice and wide, and as Melcher told me long ago, you want to use the biggest tip that will fit any given screw. So I usually use this fat little stubby, but I could probably still go up a blade size.

This ratcheting screwdriver is perhaps the tool I'm most disproportionately and undeservedly proud of. Well, I ought to be, it took over fifty bucks to get it off the Snap-On truck in 1996. I think I like it so much not merely because it's a great screwdriver (it is), but because at least two people whom I've wrenched on cars with hate using it: Melissa and Colin.
They used to make them in a variety of colors including neon green and hot pink, but now it looks like they only come in orange or black. Mine is yellow, of course, for reasons inadequately explained in a previous post.

So when others--for reasons beyond me--complain about that yellow beauty, I toss them this trusty Craftsman.

File under Fire

For a chunk of the early and mid 1990s I was what I guess you'd call a heavy smoker, up to a pack a day sometimes. When my habit kicked in, during the waning days (literally) of high school, I was smoking Drum and Three Castles rolling tobacco nearly exclusively. For a while afterward I got lazy about rolling them so I smoked Old Golds but would often pine for that unfiltered bite and buy a pack of Pall Malls or Lucky Strikes.

Soon after I'd begun smoking, Melcher (who'd turned me on to the foul weed) bought me this Zippo, engraved "Sonny" obverse, and "WHC" reverse. "WHC" of course stands for "Wolfsburg Hurricane Club" and "Sonny" is my code name within that organization, Melcher's being "Cisco", and McDonald's being "Leadbelly"¹. 

¹Dylan, Bob (1962). Song to Woody. On Bob Dylan [cass]

Besides that you need a way to fire up your smokes, you need a lighter when working on cars to shrink some kinds of wiring wrap and connector ends, start your brake pads and shoes on fire to clean them (really!), and to see if a particular material is flammable or not (not advised).
I'm a sucker for certain classics and can't imagine owning any lighter except a Zippo. Yeah, those butane things will fire up in a hurricane, but they're too gadgety for my taste.