Stan's Helicopter and I gear up to visit the training center

 

My neighbor Stan had a slightly used helicopter which he was trying to sell me. He assured me it was only in need of a minimal amount of sanding and then I could paint it if I so desired, or use it as is. Either way the sanding to the black fiberglass exterior seemed to be important, so I was helping him to get it as smooth as possible. 

But could the helicopter make the trip to the Honda training center from Butte College's old main campus automotive technology department? That was the question. 

I teamed up with Tom Baird, the transmission and drive train instructor, who had later become department chair, and perhaps I'd make the trip down there in his car. Brian Clampitt, another Butte College pal from the old days was another option, although the car he was driving was only outfitted with an old XM radio.

"You're still stuck with that old thing, I see," I poked fun at him. 

I'd gotten out of XM in the early 2Ks, not wanting to be stuck with the subscription fees. He had stubbornly doubled down and was pretending to like the programming, just to feel satisfied with his decision. 

Riding with him didn't seem like a good choice. I had my own car, but I would have needed a co-pilot since I had no clue as to how to get to the training center from our current location.

Where was our current location, anyway? It seemed like the storage facility at Butte College for all of the old records of our Honda training back in 1999-2001. Paper certificates to show our credentials adorned the garage-like walls, affixed unceremoniously with bits of scotch tape with greasy fingerprints on the adhesive. 

I looked around the few remaining certificates for my own, but upon viewing each and every one, I found I didn't have one hanging on the wall after all. I overheard one of the teachers offering another former student in my same predicament the option of forging a new one.

"Can you imagine?" I said to my traveling partner, who seemed as lost as I was. "That's really going out on a limb for the students."

I made mention that we were going to have to find Baird, or we'd be lost for sure. He was nowhere around, and I presumed he'd left for the training center without us, in clear violation of the rules of a caravan, which we had all agreed to travel in. I tried to contact him using an antiquated cellphone/pager combo without any success. 

I didn't get to the training center, nor did I wind up purchasing Stan's helicopter, which surely would have facilitated my trip. Now here I am, awake, gut hurting and I have to pee. My exciting life.