Zap Stories

By John Reed

First Zap:

Some of you may recall when Federal express began building "Zap Stations."  These stations were to allow a sheet of information to be sent over a phone line to another "Zap Station" somewhere else in the country.  This was an unheard of technology that was suddenly available to the public, and their use exploded for a while.  However, as is usual with this type of thing, it changed so fast that before they were finished building them facsimile machines "FAX" became affordable.  Oh well!

Because of this revolution in communications, we have been on a roller-coaster ride ever since.  Take our club for instance: we used to do much of our communica-tion by phone.  This involved a lot of phone tag, as well as long distance expense to outlying members.  Now here comes the BBS surprising even me, "a techno freak."  I checked the list of active users and it has grown dramatically, with some from other states (and one from Remulak!).  Where is all this heading?  Are we going to become a group of computer hackers whose only communication is via video monitor?  I really doubt it.  However, like many areas of modern society, our club is experiencing an information explosion!   I don't know about you, but I'm having a lot of fun.  My wife is threatening to bash my new computer.  Alas, she is not a "techno freak."

Second Zap:

Now for something more serious.  I have been doing a lot of electrical work at the property lately (an understatement!).  So I thought I would combine my work with a little fun.  One evening about a month ago Taylor and I drove to the property with the intent of doing a little observing, getting some shut eye, and starting the electrical the next morning.  Well the day had been beautiful, with one of those crystal blue skies that seem to happen only in the fall.  The air was dry, crisp and very clear.  There was a brisk wind that lasted into the evening.  However, on our way from Cabot the clouds began to roll in.  I am slightly stubborn, and thought that they might blow over as they were rather thin.

When Taylor and I arrived the gate was locked, and I was beginning to realize that I shouldn't be so stubborn.  After opening the gate and parking I walked up to the club house in a darkness so thick that it seemed my headlamps could barely pierce it.  I dialed the combination and swung open the bar, only to find that the door knob had been locked!

"%$#%#$%$", I said.  "This isn't right."

Well, fortunately, I had my tool box and so I began to work on the jamb with a screwdriver.  After several minutes of frustration, the door popped open.  A grin spread across my face and with a victorious flourish I beckoned Taylor into the club house.  Nothing hap-pened when I flipped on the light switch.  Utter darkness!

"%#$%$#$!!!", I said.

I set my tool box inside the dungeon-like club house and grabbed my flashlight to see what was wrong.  Taylor, being a sensible boy, got back into the truck.

I scanned my torch about like a light house in dense fog, fanning beams of light everywhere.  It looked like World War One with trenches dug all over the place.  I thought, 0h my God, it's the work of Bruce "Toolman" McMath!  Give him more power and there is no telling what he might dig up.  Sure enough, there were the wires to the club house laying on top of the ground, not hooked to anything.  It was about then that the wind I mentioned earlier gusted and I heard a loud THUD.

With a sinking feeling that was becoming rather familiar that night, I ran to see what that noise had been.  Well, it wasn't Santa and his eight tiny reindeer!.  The Club house door had shut, and I was locked out again!  Well after hanging my head for a minute, Taylor stuck his out of the truck window and said "Dad, when can we go in?" A good question, I thought.  I began to look around for my tool box, and it dawned on me where it was.  I stared at that now closed door.

"$#@#$%%!!!", I said.

Now what should I do? Head back to Cabot came to the top of the list, but as I said I'm stubborn.  I went back around the club house, trying to avoid the minefield-like trenches looking for something to open that darn door!  I was about to give up, when I noticed one of Bruce's shovels laying against the partially completed deck.  I grabbed it and attacked that door with a fervor that I rarely exhibit.  It seemed grim for several minutes.  I surely hoped our neighbor would not notice what I was doing.  He might shoot first and ask questions later!

Well, to make a long story short I finally did get the door open, retrieved my tools, spliced the wires, tried not to get zapped, and got all our stuff inside a now lit club house.

After we had settled down Taylor asked if we were going to set up the binoculars and do some observing.  I had forgotten the sky!  Maybe it had cleared off by now.  NOT!  A quick glance outside sent my sprits to their lowest ebb.  As Taylor says "Its only one cloud --  a really big one!"

"%$#@&.  (&.  !!!", I said.

Third Zap:

The next day brought a beautiful clear sky.  Bruce arrived early and resumed the trenching work, walking behind a ditch-witch that was flailing dirt, rock and various debris in every direction.  Once we had gotten the ditch done from the 6" building to the power-pole by the road, Pat Morris and I began to lay the PVC conduit required for the new electrical service.  Bruce left for lunch while Pat and I continued to lay pipe.  This process seemed to go fairly fast and each 10' section was held together by PVC cement that allowed a rather quick connection between segments.  By the time Bruce returned, we were over half done.

Bruce asked where the pull--string was that the power company required inside the pipe.  Pat and I looked at each other for about a minute.  I was reminded of Monty Python's In Search of the Holy Grail when they had just tricked the residents of the enemy castle to roll the Trojan horse into the court yard.  A knight then asked what happened next.  The leader calmly explained that during darkness they would sneak out of the horse and attack the castle from the inside.  It was then that they noticed that they were still hiding in the trees outside!  Pat and I looked at each other with this same realization.  Now there was no way to get that dang string into that pipe.  Zapped again!

Well, I made a mad dash to Home Quarters to buy a 100' fish-tape (a long metal tape made to push through conduit) and returned only to find that we had already laid over 100'.  This meant that we had to cut into the pipe we had already laid and splice it back together after the string was in place.  Oh well, I guess we better not quit our day jobs!

Well, Bruce keeps claiming that the worst of the work is behind us, and I guess that may be true.  I surely hope so!  I'm not sure how many more zap's I'm good for!