Update: Dog-centric Review of the Honda Element

Raud Kennedy's avatarKennedy Dog School

As the front tires wore down on my Honda Element, they were slipping more and more, especially in the rain. I recently replaced them and it’s a huge improvement. They still slip a little when starting in the rain, but they don’t break free and spin like they were doing.

I installed a free flow cold air intake and filter to replace the stock air box and filter. I initially gained an extra 20-25 miles on a tank of gas before the gas light came on, but it decreased over time and eventually was back to where it was with the stock air box. In the summers though I’ve noticed my gas mileage improving and can only guess that it has to do with the air intake now being placed outside the hot engine compartment.

I replaced the spark plugs a few months back and that improved my gas mileage…

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Negotiating with Cookies #42 – Carhop Service

Fleegle and I pull into the drive-in. I roll down the window and glance over the menu of artery clogging delights, burgers from large to triple large, and fries so oily you could power a city with a single order. “We’ll need a nap after this one. I’m glad we’ve got bucket seats.”

“This place smells wonderful,” Fleegle says. “Where are we?”

“You’re in for a treat, Fleegle. This is Hamburger Heaven, the most awesome burgers and fries west of the Mississippi.”

From the menu, a distorted electronic voice asks from a tiny speaker that has been corroded by the rain, “Can I take your order, please?”

Fleegle’s ears tilt toward the voice. “Who’s that?”

“That’s the burger god,” I say and order for us.

A little while later, a waitress arrives with our food and places a tray on our window. The aroma of greasy goodness wafts through the car.

Fleegle watches her leave. “Who was that? What did she bring us?”

“That was the burger angel and she brought us these.” I offer Fleegle a French fry. He takes my whole hand.

“We’re going to have to work on your manners.” I offer him another. “Just the fry, not my hand.”

*   *   *

The next time we stop for gas, and this being Oregon where you don’t pump your own but must wait for the attendant to come to your car window, I look over at Fleegle and see a long strand of drool hanging from his mouth as he watches the gas station attendant walk down the row of pumps toward us. “Look, Raud, here comes a burger angel.”

 

Next: Negotiating with Cookies #43 – Turkey, Turkey and More Turkey

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Start at the beginning: Negotiating with Cookies #1 – Stinky Butt

Negotiating with Cookies #41 – Invisible Love

While sitting in the car at a red light, Fleegle and I watch a dog standing motionless in his front yard. “Why doesn’t that dog leave his yard?” Fleegle asks. “There’s no fence and lots to smell in the neighbor’s yard. I can smell a fresh one from here.”

“That’s gross.”

“What? It’s true. Don’t be such a prude.”

“This is a long light. And I’m really hungry,” I say. “I wish lights like these had carhop service.”

“What’s carhop service?”

“I’ll show you sometime. You’ll love it.”

The dog still hasn’t moved. If I hadn’t seen his head move I’d think he was a piece of lawn art. Fleegle barks at him. “Oh, don’t do that,” I say. “It’s not his fault. Do you see the little white flags that run along the edge of the lawn around the house?”

“Yeah.”

“See the little black box on his collar?”

“Yeah.”

“If he gets too close to the flags, the black box will give him an electric shock. It’s called an invisible fence.”

“Like the time I chewed on the cord for the television?”

“Yeah, like that.”

Fleegle cocks his head to the side, confused. “Why would he wear a collar that would do that to him?”

“His family put it on him.”

“Don’t they love him?”

“I’m sure they do,” I say.

“So what is it then? They’re so heavily into the S&M that they need to drag the dog into it too?”

 

Next: Negotiating with Cookies #42 – Carhop Service

Previous: Negotiating with Cookies #40 – Fleegle Hears a h’Hoo

Start at the beginning: Negotiating with Cookies #1 – Stinky Butt

Hearing Voices

Ray heard voices when he meditated. They sounded like muffled snippets of conversation coming from another room. Not much more than gibberish, really, but twice he’d heard complete sentences, soft and intimate, spoken in the space between his thoughts and they seemed meant for him and him alone.

The first was: “You’re going to die soon.” Continue reading “Hearing Voices”