I'm Falling Behind in My Home Repairs!

If that blue ring was actually secured to the floor, that's where the new toilet would go.

I'm not the kind of guy to make excuses when I've been negligent in my blogging duties, but, hey, I've been busy. In fact I've been so negligent, I suspect there are some followers who have given up on me. I'd like to say that I will double my efforts and do better, but that's probably not the case.

Although I haven't been traveling the past two or three weeks, I have been covered up with work: paying and otherwise. Don't feel neglected. I haven't hit a lick on my upstairs renovation project in more than two months.

Most of last week was occupied working and playing at Greenville's Euphoria. That was a four-day weekend affair where I shot about 150 photos and 175 video clips. Following that weekend, I spent four days retouching photos and editing together a 3-minute-20-second video, which turned out pretty damn good, if I say so myself.

Thinking I was basically going to coast through this past weekend, I was unpleasantly surprised by a malfunctioning toilet in my guest bath. This normally wouldn't take on emergency status, but my master bath is part of the unfinished upstairs renovation. I'm only human; I need to perform my biological imperatives somewhere. The nearest gas station rest room is a half mile away.

I don't have the time to recount the Biblical proportions of the Chinese fire drill replacing the commode has become, but what would have normally been a 30-to-60 minute job in a newer home has already sucked up nearly six hours of my time and the new toilet isn't even out of the box yet. Did I mention the five trips to Home Depot? I'll go into more detail once this life-changing challenge is completed or I'm dead, whichever comes first.

I'm back on the road this week; so, not much will get done. In the meantime, I have a big box loaded with commode in the middle of my kitchen and an upstairs bath that the only thing that does really function is the toilet.

What's happened to my life?

Post Game-One Thoughts on the Steelers: I Am Optimistic

I'm not the kind of guy who predicts a pro team's season record after the first game or two. So, I certainly won't attempt to draw any conclusions about the Steelers chances to make the playoffs after it's NFL opening-day game against the despicable Patriots. But I am uncharacteristically optimistic.

First an editorial aside on Brady escaping his four-game suspension: All evidence points to his complicity in “Delfategate.” Even the judge, who overturned the suspension, in his ruling stated he took no issue with the NFL's decision in the case. Nope. It was like the police finding the victim's head in the suspect's freezer and then the case being thrown out of court because there was no search warrant. The judge's ruling was based solely on the ham-handed way the NFL handled the case. There is little doubt the Patriots cheat at every opportunity. Although they rarely are caught – Deflategate and Spygate being two examples of when they have been – they persist in attempting unfair advantage. Even in last night's game, they jammed the Steelers coaches headsets for – if Steelers coach Mike Tomlin is to be trusted – most of the first half. Such things are a common occurrence at Patriots home games. Cheaters cheat. Brady shouldn't have been on the field last night or for the three games to follow. Period. 

One of my favorite plays of the game!

 He was, however, and it was a Tom Brady-led team the Steelers needed to beat. Despite Mr. Brady dodging his Deflategate punishment and playing last night against a young defense -- under the leadership of a new defensive coordinator -- that often appeared as though it had never practiced together, last year's Super Bowl champions only managed four TDs. This was by far too many points scored against any team that expects to make the playoffs, but the defense has the talent and leadership to improve....a lot.

The main reason the 28-21 score was as close as it was in this Steelers loss, was the offense. Sure it scored those 21 points, but it also managed to keep Brady and company off the field. In terms of possession: Steelers 32:05 versus Patriots 27:55. In out-possessing the Pats, the Steelers had 103 yards more offense: Steelers 464 versus Pats 361. Big Ben, who just seems to get better and better, tossed for 351 yards. DeAngello Williams, filling in for suspended running back LeVeon Bell, averaged 6 yards per carry for a total of 127 yards. 

Williams gains a few more.

The offense accomplished all of this without three of its offensive starters: Bell, center Pouncey and wide receiver Martavis Bryant. A fairly remarkable performance, if you think about it.

I went into last night's game expecting a Patriots win with a margin of at least 21 points. It was 7!

Yes, I am optimistic about this year.

Seeing the San Francisco Bay Area Through Volvo's Windshield

2016 Volvo S60 Inscription.

I'm not the kind of guy who turns down a carmaker's invitation to San Francisco simply because I don't much care for the place. So when I received the nod from AutoTrader to represent it at the recent Volvo event there, I cowboyed up and went. And, despite having to travel across the bulk of the city from the airport on the way to the Cavallo Point Hotel where Volvo hosted us, the hotel is actually in Sausalito across the Golden Gate Bridge from San Francisco. Technically, I wasn't staying in SF at all.

I had bunked at Cavallo Point before, as had some of the other older hands on this trip. I was there with Jeep Cherokee perhaps 10 years ago. Occupying much of what was Fort Baker from the Civil War through WWII, the hotel sits at the foot of the Golden Gate Bridge. The Army compliment stationed there manned the artillery guarding the north end of the bridge and the access to San Francisco Bay. V.M.I. has seen more combat. 

Several of the fort's buildings remain arrayed around what was once the parade ground, and today serve as both guest rooms and common areas. We could clearly see the Golden Gate Bridge from almost anywhere on the property. I got a good look at it from my room's perch up the side of one of the hills overlooking the bay. I calculate I had a climb of roughly 80 steps straight up the mountain every time I returned to my room. It was like a training course for Sherpas. I could have ridden to my room in one of the available hotel cars, but it was a matter of pride. I now realize I might well have joined Fort Baker's handful of casualties over the years, following into history soldiers who accidentally stabbed themselves with a fondue fork or took a fatal header off their barracks' front stoop. My legs ached for three days after my return to South Carolina. 

A beautiful property, Cavallo Point is more than eight miles from downtown SF. Ten or fifty would have been better. I could still see SF across the bay. Those of us, though, who like to strike out from wherever we are staying, taking a walk to enjoy the sights – or in my case, sample some craft beers – had to settle for hanging out at the hotel. It's not within walking distance of much of anything, but it's not a bad place to be stranded. And, I must admit, the hamburger I ate there for lunch on my first day was one of the best I've had. So it's got that going for it.

Singing for their supper....

Dinner both evenings was on the property. Among other hotel features is a cooking school. Ostensibly we were to participate in preparing our own dinner on the first night, taking directions from the hotel's chef and her gaggle of minions. In the finest military tradition, they organized us into several five-person squads and assigned us to a squad leader. A few of the squads wound up being under manned as some of us, deciding discretion the better part of valor, drifted out through the bar to the balcony to enjoy some wine and fresh air rather than shuck corn. Dinner turned out okay, but, unsure of where some of my colleagues' hands had been prior to the dinner prep, I picked at my salmon and ignored the baked chicken thigh. I did wrap an extra dinner roll in a napkin in case I grew feint during the mile-high climb back to my room.

Volvo introduced us to two new versions of its midsize S60 sedan: S60 Inscription and the S60 Cross Country. Both are labeled 2016s. Because these are variations of the popular S60, they don't really break a lot of new ground for the Chinese-owned Swedish carmaker. Each in their own way, however, are unique S60 variants.

2016 Volvo S60 CC.

When it arrives in Volvo showrooms in early fall, the $38,700 S60 Inscription will assume its place as the S60 flagship, replacing last year's Platinum grade. It's a long-wheelbase version of the sedan, and has the historic distinction of being the very first car built in China to be imported to the U.S.. Volvo stretched both the S60 Inscription's wheelbase and overall length by three inches, translating into more legroom. At 36.9 inches, Volvo claims bragging rights to the most rear-seat legroom in the S60's class.

Front-wheel-drive versions derive go from a 240-horsepower 2-liter four-cylinder turbocharged engine mated to an eight-speed, driver-shiftable automatic transmission. Opting for AWD will change the powertrain to the 250-horsepower 2.5-liter five-cylinder turbocharged engine and six-speed automatic transmission found in other AWD 60-series models. Government-estimated fuel economy for FWD is 25 mpg city/37 mpg highway/29 mpg combined. AWD scrubs about 6 mpg from each number. 

A butched-up, off-pavement sedan, the $43,500 S60 Cross Country has AWD as standard equipment. It also provides 7.9 inches of ground clearance – about 2.5 inches more than the regular S60, and the same as the Ford Edge. Its power comes from the same 2.5-liter turbocharged five-cylinder and six-speed automatic in other AWD 60-series vehicles. Fuel economy estimates are 20 mpg city/28 mpg highway/23 mpg combined. Volvo is only importing 500 units of the 2016 S60 CC, so get-em while they're hot!

Among the many high-tech features included in the S60 CC is Volvo On Call app that allows you to remote start, as well as lock and unlock the car from your smart phone. There is also standard 3D navigation with Map Care, which includes free map updates twice each year.

On our ride-and-drive day, we dined from a food truck.

Our morning drive included some wonderfully windy roads, and concluded at the Sonoma County Fairgrounds where we had lunch. Volvo had set up some cones designed to demonstrate antilock-braking steering control. 

Relaxing by the fire pit at dinner the second night before the frostbite set in.

Dinner that evening was on an outdoor terrace. By the time the sun set, the temperature was probably in the 50s, and the wind was roaring. It was like being on the foredeck of the Titanic. This was all well and good for the dessert of ice cream and homemade cookies, but made keeping the hot main-course items even remotely warm between putting them on a plate and returning to our seats a serious challenge. Thank goodness there was a fire pit. If nothing else, however, we automotive-media types are hardy and resilient; so, we somehow managed to endure. I wrapped up a couple of extra cookies for the long trek back to my room.

In the S60 CC and S60 Inscription, Volvo has two strong additions to its 60-series lineup, which accounts for roughly 75 percent of all Volvo sales in the U.S. Although SF is far from my “happy” place, it was as good a spot as any to get a first look at these new Volvos.

Ah, Asheville, We Hardly Know Ya: Hyundai Brings 2016 Tucson to the Beer Capital of the Carolinas

I'm not the kind of guy who gushes over a place I don't like. San Francisco and Las Vegas are both cities some people rave about, but I wouldn't set foot in either if it wasn't for carmakers hosting an occasional event there. Well, I guess I'd go to San Francisco, but only because it's the closest airport to Napa and Sonoma.

So, when I say that I really like Asheville, NC, you know that indeed I do.

The Catawba Brewery tasting room is two blocks from the Grand Bohemian Hotel.

A major part of what I like about it is its medley of craft, as well as major, breweries. Twenty-seven craft breweries are scattered about the Asheville area. Sierra Nevada and New Belgium have their east-of-the-Mississippi breweries in Asheville, too. Asheville is unquestionably the beer capital of the Carolinas – maybe even the entire Southeast.

What's not to like for a lover of craft beers?

A temple to beer: the Sierra Nevada Brewery near Asheville.

Sure, there are some other sites in Asheville, such as the Biltmore Estate – yawn – but for me it's the breweries and taprooms. Actually, the Biltmore Estate has become a tourist trap of the first order, fully capable of making the folks running Elvis' Graceland blush with embarrassment. It costs $60 simply to walk through the gate. That qualifies you to spend between $10 and $150 for various tours. Then there's a restaurant and gift shop. Cha-ching!

Although Asheville is just up the road from me (less than 90 minutes by car), I don't visit often enough. So, I was excited when Hyundai announced it would hold its Southeast-regional media introduction of the redesigned third-generation Tucson where? In Asheville.

Grand Bohemian's lobby.

Hyundai put us up at the Grand Bohemian Hotel in Biltmore Village adjacent to the Biltmore Estate. This is the same hotel where Hyundai housed us for a similar event for the previous-generation Tucson. It's a wonderful property run by Marriott. Its Red Stagg Restaurant, where we dined our first night, is terrific. The taprooms for three craft breweries are well within easy walking distance: Hi-Wire, Catawba and French Broad Brewing.

Our ride and drive took us through the Blue Ridge Mountains. We even did a little stint on the Blue Ridge Parkway. There were loads of twists and turns. Although the Tucson isn't billed as a sport CUV, it performed well on roads best suited for high-performance sports cars. 

What my driving partner and I first noticed about the Tucson is just how quiet it is. We didn't need to talk ourselves into believing it is quiet, we both reached the same conclusion three minutes into our drive.

About three inches longer than the version it replaces, the 2016 Tucson sports the now familial Hyundai hexagonal-shaped grille. Headlights, taillights, daytime-running lights and the optional door-handle approach lamps are LEDs. 

A 164-horsepower 2-liter four-cylinder engine linked to a driver-shiftable six-speed automatic transmission powers the $22,700 base SE grade. Other higher-grade versions use a 174-horsepower 1.6-liter turbocharged four-cylinder mated to an all-new seven-speed dual-clutch transmission (an automatic of sorts) to turn the front wheels. AWD is available on all trim levels.

The base engine delivers a government-estimated 23 mpg in the city, 31 on the highway and 26 in combined city-highway driving. The $26,150 Sport and $29,900 Limited grades deliver 25 mpg in the city, 30 highway and 27 combined. Offering the best fuel economy is the $24,150 Eco trim with 26 mpg city, 33 highway and 29 combined.

Another thing we noticed right off the bat is the extra roominess of the cabin. The longer, wider exterior translates into more passenger space. Hyundai also upgraded the contents, adding soft-touch materials to most interior surfaces.

Among the many high-end technologies Tucson offers is Automatic Emergency Braking with Pedestrian Detection, available as an option on Limited models. When traveling between 15 and 50 miles per hour, it will bring the Tucson to a complete stop when sensing an object or person in its path.

 

Phil's Bar-B-Que Pit.

Our ride-and-drive lunch stop was Phil's Bar-B-Que Pit on NC Highway 9 in Black Mountain. The pulled pork was nothing short of awesome. Although we couldn't partake, it also offers several area craft brews on tap.

Hyundai has certainly gentrified Tucson. Like a pair of suede running shoes, it looks upscale, but is fully capable of performing duties typically assigned to less refined CUVs. Oh, and it's covered by that great Hyundai warranty too.

Redsigned Mazda Miata Is as Good as It Ever Was!

I'm not the kind of guy who can turn down an opportunity to drive a convertible in Southern California. When Mazda issued an invitation to its national press launch for the totally redesigned MX-5 in Westlake Village, Calif., I was all over it. It didn't hurt that Mazda was putting us up in the Four Seasons with three nearby craft breweries within 10-minutes of the hotel. The only thing that could have made the invite more tempting is if there had been an In-N-Out Burger in the Four Seasons' lobby.

Once upon a time, it wasn't uncommon for a carmaker media event to span four days: two days of travel and two days for the meat of the program – often that signaled some extracurricular activities, such as rafting, sightseeing and so forth being incorporated into the program. Today, four-day events are as rare as a Kardashian in a spelling bee. This Mazda program, however, was of the four-day variety. That's because not only did it include the Miata (Yes, it's still legal to call the MX-5, Miata.), but also the all-new CX-3 crossover. 

Four Seasons Westlake Village.

I arrived at LAX around noon on Tuesday. Mazda had a car and driver awaiting my arrival. Despite my lounging in the backseat, slugging through the scrum of LA traffic for 40 miles to the Four Seasons Westlake Village was brutal, requiring roughly 65 minutes. I don't know how many LA commuters each day are discovered in their cars alongside the road with their wrists slit or their brains blown out by their own hand, but I wouldn't be surprised if there were a bunch. If I had sneaked a pocket knife through airport security, I'm not sure I would have survived the trip. 

The Pagoda Lawn where we had dinner our final night.

Other than some water-pressure and plumbing issues, my hotel room was everything I expected. As is typically the case with Four Seasons, service and pampering are high on every staff member's job description. Dinners on the second and third nights were at the hotel. Because we were in Southern California, these meals were served buffet style outside. Not my favorite thing, but some how I endured. 

Malibu Family Wines was the site of our opening-ceremonies dinner.

On our first night, Mazda hosted us at Malibu Family Wines. I didn't even know there are vineyards in Malibu. Although I'm not sure it was exactly Malibu, but at least it was Malibu-ish. To be honest, I'm not sure where we wound up. I believe we were at the winery's Saddlerock Ranch facility, but I'm not even sure about that. I guess I should have paid more attention. All I know is there was a giraffe, grape vines, vintage travel trailers, more grape vines and a guitar player. 

Nap time at Malibu Family Wines.

Mazda put us on some amazing roads for both ride-and-drive days. It divided us media types into two groups. My group drove the Miata on the first day and the CX-3 on the second. It was like eating dessert before dinner. If you asked me to sum up my opinion of the entire trip in one sentence it would be, I am absolutely blown away by the redesigned Miata. Most carmakers chase perfection, Mazda has managed to actually nip at its heels with the redesigned Miata.

Mazda also provided a day of driving its all-new CX-3 crossover.

This is the fourth-generation Miata. The original arrived in 1989. The rear-wheel-drive Miata has never been about speed nor acceleration. It has always been about handling, steering, braking and user-friendly performance. Not straying from that heritage, the 2016 version comes with a 155-horsepower 2-liter four-cylinder engine versus the 116-horsepower 1.6-liter four in the 1989 model. Back then it had 14-inch wheels and tipped the scale at just over 2,100 pounds. Today the base Miata Sport has 16-inch wheels and weighs just over 2,300 pounds. I have friends who've added more pounds in the last 27 years.

Miata is the fourth member of Mazda's lineup to employ its SkyActiv technologies to reduce weight and improve engine efficiency while increasing fuel economy. A six-speed automatic transmission is available in all three grades (Sport, Club and Grand Touring), but only someone physically unable to drive a manual should go that route. The six-speed manual is precise and ideally mated to the 2L four-banger. On the California mountain twisties, I just left it in fourth gear as I powered through the turns. A chisel would have been required to chip the silly grin off my face as I pulled over to hand over the tiller to my driving partner after a couple of hours behind the wheel. 

Fuel economy is up roughly 25 percent from the last generation Miata. With the manual tranny the government estimate is 27 mpg city and 34 mpg highway.

At $24,915, the Sport grade comes well stocked. The mid-level Club at $28,600 will probably be the best selling of the trims. It's also the sportiest. In addition to getting a sport-tuned suspension as standard, it's the only grade qualifying for the option package with Brembo brakes and BBS 17-inch alloy wheels.

Every trim level is loaded with goodies, but only the top-of-the-line Grand Touring gets the full array of active safety features, such as blind-spot monitoring, rear cross-traffic alert, lane departure warning and automatic high-beam control.

Oh, and you can raise and lower the manually operated top with one hand while sitting in the car at a red light. Sweet!

It was two wonderful days of driving, but, without a doubt, the Miata was the star of the show. 

Ladyface Ale Company's tasting room.

I have buddies who indulge me by venturing out to a nearby craft brewery after a day of driving on these events. I also have a couple of buddies who are every bit as craft-beer crazy as I, looking forward to these end-of-the-day brewery adventures. My driving partner on this trip is among the latter. That was good because we began our quest mid-afternoon on our arrival day at Ladyface Ale Company in Agoura Hills. After a $5 fare on Uber, we arrived in plenty of time to sip a couple of beers. I had two Picture City Porters; while my pal had a Bravado Brown with Raspberry (No, I'm not kidding.) and a Bravado Sour Brown.

On a mission on this trip to score a couple of 22-oz. bottles of Belching Beaver Peanut Butter Milk Stout, my first chore after checking into the hotel was to have the concierge make some calls to find a liquor store close by selling it. She found one less than three miles away. That was our first end-of-the-day stop the second day. As we were leaving Wade's Wines, we discovered that was also the location of Sundowner Brewery – another brewery on my list. Quite the coinkydink, no? 

Some of the guest taps at Twisted Oak Tavern.

The problem, though, was that the brewery tasting room didn't open for another 30 minutes. We opted to head down the road to the Twisted Oak Tavern with its own LAB brews as well as others on tap. I tried a glass of LAB's Imperial Red Rye that was tasty, before taking on a pint of Peanut Butter Milk Stout that happened to be among its 30 or so guest taps. I think my partner in crime had a LAB Russian Imperial Stout and then a PB Milk Stout.

Finally on the third day we launched our after-drive sampling at the Institution Ale Company in Camarillo. The tasting room is smallish, but the staff was fun and accommodating. I enjoyed a Reverie Summer Rye and a Restraint Maple Brown Ale. My secretary tossed back an Imperial Dissonance Imperial Golden Stout and something else that will ever remain a mystery.

Some of the gang at Sundowner Brewery.

Our last stop on our beer tour was the Sundowner Brewery that we missed on day two. What a blast it was. Just an amazing staff. Laughing nearly nonstop, we could barely sip our beers. We were short of time – that damn 4:30 opening don't ya know – so we only had one. Mine was a Dubble Trubble, which is a traditional Belgian Dubble that was magnificent. My valet? I don't have a clue what he quaffed, but it was probably something with fruit and an umbrella.

Although my trip back to South Carolina was less than fun filled, all in all this was a great trip. Oh, and did I mention the Miata is a terrific car?

A Travel Day from Hell: A Recent Return Trip From Los Angeles

I'm not the kind of guy who expects things to go perfectly when flying. When you ponder the possibilities, there are thousands of things that can go awry to screw up a day of flying. I've had my reserved ride to the airport not show for a 5 a.m. pickup. I've had my baggage miss connecting flights. I was delayed nearly three hours in Greenville's airport once because the replacement equipment used for a broken plane scheduled into Greenville the night before couldn't be refueled by GSP's rapid-pumping fuel filler. An international flight I was on recently was delayed two hours because no one thought to cool down the cabin before the crew arrived. The temp was well over 100 degrees and it required more than two hours to cool to the approved-for-passengers 80 degrees. And on and on and on it goes.

Consequently, I am always pleasantly surprised when a day of flying doesn't include any, well, surprises.

A recent return trip from Los Angeles, though, was one of those travel days with a series of issues that, 20 years ago, would have sent me into a red-faced, screaming rage. I am older, calmer and have made peace with the fact that flying just doesn't always go as planned (See paragraph No. 1.). Although “inner Russ” was a bit crazed, “outer Russ” remained cool and collected.

My blood pressure began it's upward trajectory as I sat in the car assigned to cart me and another journalist to LAX for our flights home from the Mazda introduction of the redesigned MX-5 Miata and the all-new CX-3 crossover. This other journalist shall remain nameless; but once I learned who was delaying us, I wasn't surprised that by five minutes past our scheduled departure time, he had yet to put in an appearance. This isn't some clueless kid, but a seasoned (yet obviously somewhat oblivious) veteran of such press junkets. In other words, he is an adult and should be professional enough to be where he's supposed to be when he's supposed to be there.

We do have more than our share of self-absorbed asshats among the motoring media. These are the people who are consistently late for everything, such as shuttles to off-site dinners and so forth. In life, some people are always late because they are absent minded; while others are just inconsiderate jerks with an over-inflated view of their worth. I suspect most of my serially late contemporaries are among the latter rather than the former. The car companies are partly responsible. They do often treat us as precious snowflakes whose each and every utterance has merit. We are coddled and pampered like ladies in waiting at the royal court. Most of us can accept this attention without our heads swelling to the size of medicine balls, but a few can't.

Thankfully, the Mazda travel people had the good judgment to send my shuttle on without its second passenger.

Once at LAX, I had my worst-ever airport experience. LAX is a honking big place. Unlike the busier Atlanta airport that at least oozes some degree of warmth despite all the hustle and bustle, LAX always feels cold and uncaring, staffed with people who would all rather be somewhere else.

I arrived at Terminal 5, roughly 90 minutes before my flight's departure. Here Delta has installed a completely separate area for it's Sky Priority customers, far removed from the surging rabble devoid of any frequent-flier status. I printed my boarding passes for the day before leaving the Four Seasons where Mazda hosted us. I brought a bag too large to carry on the plane because I knew I would be transporting home a couple of bubble-wrapped 22-ounce bottles of Belching Beaver Peanut Butter Milk Stout. All I needed to do at Delta's desk was check that bag.

I approached the area, although unmarked, that appeared to be be the check-bag-only section of the desk. There a big guy stood speaking to a female Delta agent. He pretty much ignored me until I cleared my throat and said all I needed to do was check a bag as I held up my boarding pass. Barely acknowledging me, he pointed down the counter where two other Delta agents were helping people. I walked down there and stood in the short line. When my turn came to step up and be helped, the agent looked at my boarding pass and redirected me back to the area from which I had just come. Turns out the big guy was the baggage handler whose job it was to place bags on the conveyor belt. The agent he was speaking with – who didn't so much as look at me on my first pass – was the agent assigned to check bags for people with boarding passes. What I didn't know, because one must walk around to the back of the counter to see the sign, was that the appropriate spot to check a bag with a preprinted boarding pass is on the far side of the counter. She finally sprang into action when I divined precisely the exact spot and lined up there.

What are all these people doing?

With my bag finally checked, I approached the TSA “security” station. I have “Known Traveler” status which means I made a special 320-mile round trip to the TSA offices in Atlanta where I was interviewed, vetted, finger printed and photographed. As a benefit of being a Known Traveler, I always get PreCheck. This means I basically sail through security. I don't need to remove anything from my carry-ons; from my person I don't need to remove my belt or shoes or anything from my pockets, and my laptop stays safely in my bag. The only precaution I must take is to put my cell phone in my bag as it goes through the X-ray.

With PreCheck, you walk through the metal detector rather than stand in the hold-your-hands-over-your-head-and-cough X-ray contraption. My pass through the metal detector was met with a loud beep. I was instructed to step out and go through again, which I did. BEEP! The TSA agent asked if I had anything in my pockets. I answered that of course I did; it's the PreCheck line! He took all my pocket flotsam except for the cash and had me walk through again. BEEP! He handed back my pocket contents, had me step back again and then go around to the X-ray machine. There I was told to keep my pocket contents in my hands as I held them over my head. With the X-ray, he spotted the knee brace I wear anytime I'm dressed in long pants. This initiated a call for “back up.”

Despite there always being several agents milling around these security stations apparently with nothing to do, getting an agent over to give me some individual attention took about two minutes. In the meantime, I stood with the X-ray operator glaring at me. Finally an agent about my age shuffled over wearing surgical gloves and carrying a metal-detector wand. He asked which bags on the X-ray conveyor were mine and grabbed my backpack. Putting it off to the side, he had me sit down. He asked me to roll up my pants leg so he could see my knee brace. I was wearing jeans and that wasn't in the cards. He frowned and then told me he needed to feel the brace before running his hands down my knee. This is not a big, fancy brace. I paid $14 for it at CVS. It's more of a knee wrap than a brace. Not satisfied, he then wanded it. Although it doesn't feel as though it contains any metal, it must because it set off the wand. 

You may feel a little pinch.

Clearly stumped the agent stepped back to think for a minute. I had been in security now for roughly 15 minutes. I have passed through security unmolested at least 20 times since I began wearing the brace in December. But suddenly, I'm public enemy No. 1. Although I'm in no danger of missing my flight, I'm beginning to become a little ticked. I say, “I can't imagine you don't get at least 100 people a day through here wearing knee braces. I don't understand why it seems such a mystery to you, you officious dumbass.”

Well, I didn't actually say, “you officious dumbass.” It was implied.

His clipped response, “You shouldn't imagine things.”

What?

He finally calls over his supervisor and explains the threat I pose. “It's one of those damn knee-brace felons,” I imagine him whispering. There I go imagining again. I see his supervisor shake his head, no. The agent returns, hands me my backpack and sends me on my way. Apparently I dodged a trip to the TSA offices for a strip search.

Once through security, signs directed me through a construction zone in the bowels of the airport to reach my gate. At the appropriate time, we boarded. Pushing back from the gate, the plane taxied a few feet down the taxiway where it paused as the pilot fired up the second engine. Seconds later the pilot announces the right engine heat indicator isn't functioning and we must return to the gate. Because the pilot didn't fire up the right engine until we had pulled out into the taxiway, a tug had to be found and brought over to pull the plane gateside. This took nearly 30 minutes. More than another hour was required for maintenance to tighten a connection in the engine, which fixed the problem.

With only 80 minutes baked into my schedule to connect in Atlanta, I knew I wasn't going to make my scheduled flight to Greenville. From my seat, I called Delta's service center. I informed the agent I wasn't going to make my connecting flight and needed to know what my other flight options might be. There was another flight to Greenville leaving about three hours later with open seats, I asked to be backed up to that. No problem, I was told.

Arriving in Atlanta, I called the service center again to confirm my seat on the 4:49 flight. The agent informed me that I was only on standby for that flight and it was showing full. But I was confirmed on the 7:05 flight. Seething, I walked to the nearest Delta service desk where an agent confirmed what I was told on the phone. I go to the gate for the 4:49 flight where I see on the board that there are actually seven open seats and I'm first on the standby list. I am stumped why I'm not confirmed with seven open seats, but the gate agent tells me not to fret, I'll get a seat. As I sit waiting for my seat to clear, three non-Delta flight crew members approach the podium and are promptly issued three of the seven open seats. They are apparently deadheading back home.

Wait a minute, Delta issues open seats to deadheaders before it does to paying customers it's already inconvenienced at least once during the day? The two people on the standby list below me were also on my delayed flight from LAX. The three of us made the flight by the skin of our teeth.

There is something terribly wrong with this system. Not to mention, it's lousy customer service. It was a very long travel day.

After Two Days, Nothing to Complain About in the Florida Keys

I'm not the kind of guy who can find much to whine about when relaxing in the Florida Keys. Sure the relentless sun and heat usually turns my beer into the temperature of bath water before I manage to finish it, but it's just motivation to drink more quickly.

During my first two days in Islamorada, I've avoided getting sunburned; so, nothing to complain about there.

$200 later, a new prop.

The boat propeller took an unexpected dump on Day 1. I've decided that I am a jinx when it comes to Amy and Scott's boat. On two separate jaunts to South Florida earlier in the year we attempted to take the boat out. It's trailered by the side of their house most of the time. On one aborted attempt we managed to get the boat in the water before discovering it wouldn't run. The other time we didn't even get it that far. The boat had been performing brilliantly before my arrival, carrying several people out to a popular snorkeling spot. Before the prop went south, the boat had been dragging different kids around on a big tube. We headed to a sandbar for lunch – a trip cut short because we couldn't get the anchor to grab. As we motored away, the prop began slipping. We headed – at little more than idle speed – to the closest marina with a mechanic, who diagnosed the propeller as the culprit.

 I tell you all of this to emphasize the negative effect I appear to have on the reliable performance of this boat. If it could roll over and play dead when it sees me, it probably would. But I can't even moan about this because the mechanic showed up yesterday afternoon, as promised, and replaced the faulty prop. In fact, the repair was so timely that we were able to head out to a couple of joints for happy hour. How can I complain about that?

The "OV" for happy hour.

I don't always sleep well on the road, but not an issue on this trip. The beach-side condo my friends rented for a month has three bedrooms. The one I'm hogging for nearly a week has a queen-size bed that's as comfortable as any I've slept in. I've been sleeping like the dead. Nothing to bitch about there.

We've had decent sunsets both evenings I've been here. Neither was spectacular, but they were fairly colorful. No fodder for whining in the sunset department.

My good camera did give up the ghost, but I'm taking it's stubbornness to perform as an opportunity to buy a new camera. Most of the photos you see here were shot with my iPhone.

I don't have the energy to search high and low for something to moan about. I am on vacation after all. I may stumble across something in the next few days I'm here worthy of my animosity, but my optimism on this is waning. In the meantime, I'll just concentrate on trying to drink my beer before it gets warm. I'll have my hands full with that.