Generally this is a Very Bad Thing:

not my car.  I'm not that dumb.

That’s water/coolant boiling away off your engine. Usually this is due to a busted hose… or you didn’t put the cap back on your radiator… or your radiator is 16 years old and finally sprung a leak! In the last case, the steam will be much less dramatic, and you should be able to drive home by just pulling over every 5 miles or so and re-filling your radiator. Straight water is fine here… don’t worry about the ideal 50-50 coolant-water mix.

So I didn’t document this whole process as well as I would have liked. But here’s the start. One Acura Integra 91′ GS 1.8L 5MT:

Acura Integra 91 GS

Before you start replacing your radiator, verify the leaking fluid is really coming from your radiator. This can be done by wiping everything down, filling your radiator back up, starting the engine and letting it idle, and figuring out where the drips/spurts/gushing rapids is/are coming from.

Next step… take your old radiator out to get a good look at it. Here’s where you start:

1.8L with radiator

Here’s where you finish:

1.8L without radiator

Most everything you need to un-fasten to get the radiator out is right there in front of you on top. To get the radiator out, here is what worked for me:

  1. Undo everything you can see that obviously attaches to or holds the radiator in place (two hoses, some electrical on the left fan, mounting braces on each side or the radiator and one mounting/pipe brace)
  2. Struggle clumsily with radiator trying to pull it out. Grunt. Wipe grease on pants, forehead. Realize you need to remove the fans first.
  3. Remove the left fan. This involves removing two more mounting bolts, and squeezing the fan out past the pipes & tubing.
  4. Remove the right fan. This has two more mounting bolts, then some electrical deep down the right hand corner. This is the crux of the whole operation. You need to remove some wiring from it’s bracing clamp thinger. Here’s a shot of the evil wire clamps all opened up.

    electrical bs

    The small black clamp opens by sticking a flathead or knife in that little slot and then prying up. The bigger white clamp can be opened with some finger prying. If you don’t have small hands and thin arms here you’re going to have recruit your local preteen to help you out here. It’s a tight squeeze.

  5. There’s one more hose at the bottom of the radiator you can get to now (this one goes radiator -> engine block). Undo it. If you have an automatic transmission, I think there’ll be two more small hoses down here to undo, but with your 5MT, that’s it.
  6. Physically lift your leaky radiator out of the engine compartment. Who’s your daddy now??

Now, if you want to fix your leaky radiator rather than buy a new one, keep in mind that whatever patch you implement will have to withstand high temperatures and pressures. And potholes. Basically, it’s generally not worth it, especially since if (and by ‘if’ I mean ‘when’) you mess it up you’ll have to spend another day doing this all over again. Sooooo…. take your old radiator:

old blue

And throw it in the landfill, where it will sit and slowly decompose over the next couple hundred years. And buy a new one! I searched all around and found one as cheap as $102.48, but shipping was going to take a few days and cost another $20 bucks. I need my car now, not in a few days! To the rescue: radiator.com! These guys rock. Call them. They not only matched the lowest price I had found elsewhere, they had my radiator ready for local pickup within the hour. When I picked it up, the price tag said $179.99. I was out the door with tax for $111. Yee haa. My new baby:

new radiator

Before you throw the new radiator in, realize that they make one radiator for both manual and automatic transmissions. If you have a manual, you don’t need the little intake/outflow nipples for the transmission cooling system at the bottom of the radiator. Go to Kragen and get a hose and some clamps, and connect the two nipples. While you’re there pick up some more coolant.

Installing the new radiator is pretty much exactly removal in reverse, except harder. But you’ve already had one practice time. Don’t get frustrated, be one with your radiator. Love thy radiator, and thy radiator thou lovest back.

Now that your new radiator’s all in and connected, add in 50-50 coolant-water mix until the radiator is full. Leave the cap off, start the engine. There should be some bulbing. Some coolant may spill over, don’t worry, your dog and/or baby will clean that up for you. Anyway, the level should drop as air that was trapped in the engine and radiator finds it’s way up to the top. Add more coolant and water. After a few minutes of this, the bubbles will stop. Keep an eye on the engine temperature as you do this…. it should be fine, but still.

And that’s it! Pop the radiator cap back on, take it for a spin around the block, make sure everything’s cool, then take it for a little jaunt out on the freeway. Bask in the glory that is a well-cooled 1.8L 5MT running silky smooth.

The San Francisco School of Bartending (SF SOB) is one of many bartending schools in the city. But this one’s special… I went there!

So in the real world (misnoming SF as the ‘real world’) maybe 1 out of 4 bartenders went to bartending school. Maybe. Most start working as barbacks or waiters, learn the drinks over time, and then slowly move up to bartender. F-that! I want to be a bartender, not a grunt. The bartending schools advertise that with 40 hours of class time you’ll effectively skip 1-2 years of barback time. Word. Prices run around 300-400 dollars, the SF SOB was $395 but I hear is going up to $495 starting in 2008.

Based on my buddy’s experience with a competing school, the SF SOB’s layout is pretty standard. Each student has a full but compact bar to work with. The bottles are filled with water and food coloring to simulate each particular alcohol. Each day in class we learned a different class of drinks – martinis, teas, shots, beer and wine, coffee drinks… etc. We also went over basic bartender skills like handling drunk people, how to speed up a slow customer, or how to give change so you’ll get a fat tip,

SF SOB

The class is about 40 hours of instruction total. You can do that in two weeks at 4 hours a day or one week 8 hours a day. I opted for the two week version, and I’m glad I did, because 4 hours of pouring was plenty to wear me out. I did have a completely awesome instructor for those 4 hours a day. Jake went to college where I grew up, the land where beer and alcohol are a way of life. Jake’s got more than a dozen years experience in all kinds of bars and has a very solid understanding of the alcohol world, and does a great job communicating it. If you do go to the SF SOB, ask which class Jake is teaching. This is Jake:

SF SOB Jake

At the end of the class, there’s a written final and a live final (kinda like the oral defense of your PhD thesis… yeah). For the live final, you have 7 minutes to make 12 drinks. The drinks come from the list of some ~120 drinks you learned over the past week. Not easy. I crammed like a mofo the night before and day of, and managed to know and correctly pour 11 of my 12 drinks in exactly 7 minutes, which tied for the top of my class. You have to get at least 9 of the 12 correct to pass.

The real reason the SF SOB is the best bartending school in the city is their job placement program. They’ve got more local listings in a private online database than anyone else, and someone there full time to help you get a job. Right away once you graduate you can get on their catering list, and get that key first line on your bartending resume. And once you get two or three lines on there, you may want to take the SF SOB off your resume completely, depending on who you’re trying to get a job with.

I bailed from Mexico City back to SFO, and down to Palo Alto in 24 hours. I tried to save a love that was apparently already lost. I don’t regret bailing on Mexico, I don’t regret leaving to go in the first place. I do wish the cards had fallen differently. At least life ain’t boring.

I was expecting some culture shock upon getting back to the States, but I didn’t have have to wait that long. The International Terminal at the Mexico City airport has got to be the richest place in Mexico. Patron everywhere, diamond jewelery, beer on tap… wow. I’ve been searching Mexico for three weeks trying to find beer on tap.

To get back to SFO, I first had a Méxicana puddle jumper to Puerto Vallarta. My ironic in flight magazine:

sf mag

I guess God’s got a sense of humor.

I didn’t leave the airport in Puerto Vallarta. I had to do a bunch of paperwork because I didn’t have a tourist card. If you go to Puerto Vallarta for vacation, I’d really recommend heading a few hours north or south from town. Based on the airport at least, Puerto Vallarta didn’t feel like the ‘Querida México’ I had just spent three weeks wandering across. It’s more like a (bad) extension of the OC. The airport was overran with spoiled children, white women with too many face lifts, trust fund babies, and a scattering of general d-bags… like this one…

d-bag

Doesn’t everyone wear their sunglasses inside?

I took Alaska Air back to beautiful cloudless San Francisco… no complaints. Every time I go travel, I find myself coming to the same conclusion: the Bay Area rocks. A beautiful place with jobs galore, tons to do, friendly people. It’s good to be home.

Me: “¿A donde va este camión?”

Dude: “México.”

Me: uhhhhh….. that’s funny, I thought I made it to Mexico a few weeks ago.

Yeah, it’s definitely confusing at first. In Mexico, Mexico City is usually referred to as just “México”. I was ready for “La Cuidad” or “D. F.”, but noooooo…. Contextual speech processing is difficult when you you’re picking up maybe a third of what’s going on around you.

Anyway, Mexico City is the second largest aggregation of brainy bipeds to happen, well, in the history of our planet. And given that intelligent life looks like a pretty rare occurrence in this whole ‘universe’ thing, Mexico City may be the second largest, most complex self-sustaining (on the timescale of years) physically localized reaction/interaction/resonance of energy/matter to have occurred ever, and perhaps ever will. And that would, in my opinion, make it a ‘big deal’.

The bus from Acapulco to Mexico City passes through some of Mexico’s most beautiful countryside. The toll highway is completely spotless. It’s landscaped for hundreds of miles, there are tunnels galore, and perfect pavement. You won’t find a road this nice in California. I continue to be amazed at how unbalanced Mexico is… why the F is this highway perfect when just yesterday in downtown Acapulco I was walking by people (literally) decaying on the street? Arg. Anyway, it’s hard to get good scenery pictures with an iPhone, but the countryside is so beautiful that I did get one to come out. This is a random hill…

some random hill

The highway also went by the tallest mountain I’ve seen in my life thus far, Popocatépetl. It’s hard to see in this picture, but Popocatépetl is there in the background, sitting tall at 5,452m (17,887 ft):

Popocatépetl

¡Y México (D.F.)! Believe it or not, I only got one picture in Mexico City. This is the National Palace from the Zócalo, at night.

National Palace

No pictures, but the Mexico City metro is pretty awesome. It doesn’t compare to NYC’s though. It’s pretty much like any other metro in the US of A, except one distinction. There’s nobody asking for change. No beggars. Instead of beggars, the ‘bums’ walk up and down the cars trying to sell stuff. Gum, cd’s, tamales… I wonder if that’s because people won’t give change away, or if it’s because people are too embarrassed to beg, or what? Well, for whatever reason, if you go up the Pacific coast to one of the richest cities in the world you’ll find some 5-10 thousand people asking you for change. Say what? Something doesn’t match up here.

The main thing that struck me about Mexico City… I was expecting more of a New York experience. Mexico City is really nothing like New York. There’s many more people in Mexico City, but it doesn’t achieve the densities you find in Manhattan. The streets are definitely paved and functional, and there are occasional skyscrapers, but nothing like the land of 50+ stories you find in Midtown. Apparently Mexico City’s got money now, but that’s a relatively new occurrence, and I guess time’s still needed for the infrastructure to catch up.

A bunch of bus!

Manzanillo is down on the pacific coast a little south of Guadalajara. The trip from Guadalajara down to Manzanillo is mostly surrounded by fields of blue agave, aka Tequila in plant form.

Bule Agave

It actually did rain for a few seconds along the way too – that’s one day with rain per three weeks. Not bad.

Manzanillo is now the busiest port in Mexico, passing up Veracruz a few years ago. Even so – the port looks like a little toy compared to Oakland’s monstrous shipyard. 4 big cranes in Manzanillo… maybe 20 in Oakland? Manzanillo is centered around it’s seaside zócalo with a big metal swordfish.

Manzanillo Swordfish

Mazanillo Bay

Manzanillo didn’t feel very gringo-friendly, I think it’s because it’s really an industrial port city at heart – and proud of it. I took off for Acapulco the next morning. 12 more hours of bus down the side of the big beautiful pacific to Acapulco. The highway was slow and windy, lots of military checkpoints, small villages lacking basic infrastructure, and… miles and miles of stunning, deserted, secluded beaches.

Deserted Beach

And Acapulco! The first thing you notice about Acapulco is the taxis. The whole city is literally covered with little Volkswagen Bug taxis.

Taxi Bug

Acapulco’s central zócalo….

Acapluco Zocalo

The bay of Acapulco is beautiful, even if it smells bad. The mountains nestle right down to the water – a truly beautiful city (from far away).

Acapluco Bay

Acapulco from up close… being blunt, Acapulco is the filthiest, most polluted, most depressing, most crime ridden place I’ve ever experienced in my life. I have a completely new perspective on West Oakland. You think you’re hardcore? In downtown Acapulco, the bums have are literally rotting away on the street. The air is thick with diesel smog. The water is brown. Sewage. Insects. The very first guy I talked to, a taxi driver in the bus terminal, was selling cocaine. Everyone up here in the Bay Area, everyone from the prostitutes in the Tenderloin through the crackheads and gangbangers up and down Oakland’s International Boulevard – we’ve still got our basic needs covered at a level that the general population in Acapulco can’t assume. We have clean water. We have clear air. We have a functional sewage system. Our bums survive. We have welfare. Social Security. I don’t want to say we’re pampered, because that implies that we’re soft, and have something to be ashamed of because we’ve managed to get our basic needs under control. But we do need to realize and remember that even though there is significant variance in the level of privilege we’re born into in the first world, from the perspective of the other 4 billion, we’re really all one and the same. There’s a lot wrong with our society in the States, there’s a lot to work on and a lot to change, but it’s essential to remember how much we’ve done that’s right. There’s a level of pride in the States that’s warranted by our successful creation of community… but yet for some reason doesn’t exist. Keep working to improve, but allow ourselves to recognize and celebrate good we’ve created! </rant>

It’s been a little while since the last entry, sorry! Time to play catch up again.

Guadalajara is the second biggest city in México with about 4 million warm (well, at least living) bodies, coming in at about 70th worldwide. It may not be the biggest city in México, but it’s often referred to as the most ‘Mexican’ city. Tequila and Mariachi bands come from Guadalajara. That, and the population is more on the indigenous side of the spectrum than Mexico City.

The bus ride from Mázatlan to Guadalajara is a smooth 8 hour trip. It’s mostly one big climb up into the mountains. The countryside the toll highways cut through is for the most part empty of people. The small rural villages that do pop up are still working on basic infrastructure stuff like ’solid walls’ and ‘a roof not made of palm fronds’. Best I could tell, there was electricity in every village I saw, but not in every neighborhood or street (’street’ being a relative term kinda like ‘path’).

Anyway, the cities (like Guadalajara) do for the most part have modern luxuries like pavement. However, as you can see in this picture of a suburb of Guadalajara…

Guadalajar Suburb

Those baize and black cylindrical looking things that you can see on every roof – those are water filtration systems. This is your loud warning – don’t drink the tap water. If the locals aren’t drinking it, you shouldn’t either. (I had to test this anyway, and yeah, it did a number on my internal flora and fauna. Thank God my guardian angle hooked me up with some antibiotics before I left San Francisco.)

I stayed at the HI in the Centro Histórico in Guadalajara. A great hostel for a those traveling alone – a very welcoming group of people, the hostel was organizing activities for guests several times a week. This is the HI crew out for a few drinks at an outdoor jazz club:

HI crew, Guadalajara

The Centro Histórico (or all of Guadalaraja for that matter, or even this whole side of México) is centered around the Guadalajara Cathedral. Construction on the Cathedral started in 1561, which would be about three generations before the Mayflower landed up near Boston.

Guadalajara Cathedral

It’s totally not kosher to take a picture inside the Cathedral, but if there’s one good thing about using an iPhone, it’s that you can discretely break the rules…

Guadalajara Cathedral

BTW, if you’ve never been in a real cathedral, it’s worth your time. This was my first experience, and I was expecting it to essentially be a very big church. That’s like comparing a 152 with an A380. I just wasn’t prepared. The effect of the detail on the stone, the high ceilings, the organ filling every last corner and crack with full, powerful sound – it’s stunning.

Around the Cathedral are four Euro-style plazas, called ‘Zócalos’ in México. They’re open air and everyone is just hanging out. There was free wifi for my iPhone, but I didn’t see anyone busting out a full laptop. I did run across some sort of military flag ceremony though.

Guadalajara Flag Ceremony

Zócalo Guadalaraja

Transit geeks out there will be happy to know Guadalajara has a small but functional metro, similar in size to San Francisco’s.

Metro Guadalaraja

I didn’t get a chance to ride the metro, but I did take the local bus across town to and from the Nueva Central Caminonera and el Centro. That went straight through the neighborhoods. I unfortunately didn’t get any pictures worth posting… but the feel of the regular neighborhoods of the city was unlike any city in the US or Canada. The streets are very narrow, the sidewalks are covered with people, and the traffic drives extremely fast. Stop signs are, seriously, yield signs. Red lights – nobody coming? Just like a pedestrian on market street – the bus slowly inches out and then bamn! hit the gas and cut across the intersection. All righty then.

The commerce is organized differently than in the States. If the US has generally been moving toward the ‘one store has everything possible’ model, in Guadalajara they use the ‘this neighborhood only carries this particular good’ model. So if you want anything to do with fabric, you go to the fabric neighborhood. Every store there will have fabric and threads galore. If you want tires or rims, go to the tire neighborhood. The hostel I stayed at in the Centro Histórico was in the money changing neighborhood.