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Checking Your Oil In Maine, Fill ‘er Up At The Twilight Zone Garage.

Fill ‘er Up, Check The Oil, The Hoses Please.

Life moves fast and you gotta keep gassed, filled up.

But despite the hurry scurry, the double time to hut hut stay on pace, out of no where happens. Like you’re driving scenic Maine US One, our version of Rt 66 to get your kicks. The rock bound craggy coast and salt sea air left shrinking way way behind in the big rear view chrome mirrors. As you venture north into the heart of interior Maine.

And out of the corner of your eye, coming in to full ten and two hand position vision ahead you arrive at a yesteryear garage mirage. Stuck in time, rusting relics, static, waiting for the gas filling station pump attendant. The oil topping, tire changing, battery boosting grease monkey. The missing driver, passengers in the car under the canopy at a Topsfield Maine way way out in the country gas station. All gone. That must of been collected. Rounded up, sucked up, lifted slowly skyward. Bathed in a pool of hot bright blue UFO light vacuum and whisked away.

Topsfield Maine, population 237. Not far from Danforth Maine. Population 589 and many of those households are lakeside, empty much of the year. When snowbirds fly away to lands where winter snow shovels are not operated, needed, sold.

Business at the Twilight Zone Gas Station as I call it is not brisk.

In fact, the same collection of rusting relics continue to wait for parts to come in. Repairs to be performed as weather happens. Seasons change. People come and go, buzz by on the highway the gas station is parked smack dab within the right of way. Of this four rod wide once vibrant artery.

Waiting lines, a small mom and pop Maine business pulsating, percolating with a steady string of cars, trucks. Mostly locals, a handful of straggling tourists. The occasional horse or Maine farm tractor. A laughing collection of local kids. On bikes, trading in empty soda bottles for candy. The highway establishment a whisker too handy to the shoulder of the now not so well traveled Maine roadway.

The stop for a pop spot. To poke change, for Clyde to fish, then drop a dime down the slot. To place an important long distance pay phone call. To stretch, remove leg, shoulder knot joint fatigue. For Bonnie to freshen up, splash some water on her face, adjust her lipstick. The entire dog and pony started with a bark of fill ‘er up. For gallons of gas, quart of oil, new wiper blades paid for with unfolded green cash. Not a magnetic strip plastic card. Where you settle up in thirty days. Or carry the bill with interest and increasing debt.

To witness, watch the whip out and wipe off the dipstick maneuver.

For the gas station jockey to squint, decipher, measure oil levels in the crankcase of big V-8s. Heavy, framed cars with skirts, sleek curved swooping lines, straight pipes, real steel bodies. And power plants that lacked smog emission control devices. Sedans, coupes, two tone colored station wagons, pick ups, farm machinery with a motor. Or tires needing air.

Some panel delivery trucks with real “woody” grain side panels. But no power windows, missing air conditioning, sans leather seats. Just limited AM radio stations to sing along to the words, to just hum if you don’t know the song. But each vehicle equipped with triangular front side windows. That cranked, rolled out to redirect wind. The velocity, gust controlled by the lead level in your foot. Inviting a breeze to pass into and through out the car’s interior as the accelerator is squeezed, pressed to the metal. The man made wind, drifting in and out with distant radio frequency broadcasts that are turned up louder the hotter it gets. The faster you drive.

The lone white painted cedar shingled building, a refreshment center of fluids for man and modern tin lizzie combined.

Set ready freddy as a filling station ding ding rural outpost. Providing road maps, verbal directions for the lost. Those new to the local turf. Not from these parts. Being of service to all who swerved, rolled in, then out. Labeled with hanging and nailed porcelain coated gas company logos. From flying A’s to soaring winged horses. Staged, ready for Maine seven decades ago for a real deal backdrop movie set for the right script. If it’s time for a vacation life experience, if you’re on empty, your story begins in Maine. Don’t keep her waiting. Fill ‘er up. Pull out the map, log some memory miles.

I’m Maine REALTOR Andrew Mooers, ME Broker
207.532.6573
info@mooersrealty.com

February 20, 2013
Winter Snow Skiing All Fun And Games Until An Avalanche Triggers.

Colorado Ski Avalanches, Can Happen Like At Arapahoe, A Basin In Summit County Saturday.

When you live in Maine, kids are raised pretty much outdoors and winter snow skiing on the fun check list.

Our recreation, work is four seasons. Winter down hill snow skiing complements pond hockey, ice fishing, snow sledding in Maine. So when your Maine family enjoys down hill, cross country snow skiing, the kids grow up to carry on the leisure activity. Some gravitate to places like Colorado.

Two sons were skiing together at A Basin in Colorado over the weekend. Luckily Saturday they missed a snow avalanche that hit fifteen skiiers at A Basin. My son has asked for a snow avalanche locator beacon for back country skiing safety. So being found under snow can happen because time is critical when air is cut off. You find yourself under layers of shifting avalanche snow at Arapahoe Basin, other Colorado ski areas.

A skiing avalanche, it’s a bigger deal than when your a Maine kid in a snow tunnel you carve out with your neighborhood friends in the backyard.

Making rooms under a mountain of snow that plow trucks deposit. Knowing in construction kicking, using hands, shovels that not much for overhead tunnel support. And that if you ever got claustrophobic, you could bust up through the bright spot. Get up and out without any worries. To fresh Maine air and safety away from tight panic attack close quarters.

Son Alex was working one of the A Basin ski lifts this past Saturday. Wondered why ski patrol sleds were zipping by. Return chairs higher up the mountain had return skiiers wearing only one board. Missing poles, other standard equipment signaling something was wrong. One skiier in the A Basin party was completely buried under a snow avalanche. Luckily his partner saw him disappear and exactly where. And by hand scrambled to dig himself out. Then the endangered out of sight buried lost on radar skiier. Luckily knowing his last seen whereabouts before the snow pile up avalanche hit.

Special safety ski equipment is needed for natural terrain, hidden outback areas closed to the general public.

Avalanche beacons cost around $300. Alex says there are snorkels to breath out the back, parachute like brightly colored orange inflating ballons too that are on top of special back backs. That have CO 2 cartridges to explode like blowing up an accident dash air bag. To create air space in the snow around the skiier to help mobility. To aid the buried avalanche skier to show up. Be spotted by safety patrol rescurers. Frantic, but trained to know where, how to dig. While the highly critical avalanche rescue time is ticking away. When it’s life and death to get your under snow, disappeared skiier uncovered. Back to unlimited fresh air.

You only have a couple minutes max of cavity air when buried alive in a snow ski avalanche. And as you breath, if you don’t keep a clear head and can not relax, the snow becomes crystalized, turns to ice quickly with each life ending breath exhaled. Like being underwater. Flailing, wasting energy, panic does not help the serious accident situation. With the little air you can not afford to fritter away.

My oldest son and his brother Elliot, his girlfriend Cindy did get to ski A Basin after Alex was off work.

But the Colorado avalanche was a grim reminder that snow falls happen. Unlike skiing in Maine. This avalanche triggered to actually shift to the point of bare ground showing where the snow was. Before it shifted, slid, rumbled, thundered down the back country terrain mountain side. Picking up speed where there are no groomed trails. Outback areas that are only available for skiing with inked at your own risk legal waivers signed. And expert abilities experienced skiers partnered with an A Basin trained guide who does not want to die either.

Spring time will uncover lost snow skis, ripped off equipment of the party of fifteen. At the Montezuma Bowl that remains closed today at Araphoe Basin ski area in Summit County, after February 18th, Saturday’s avalanche. Like forest fire danger conditions in Maine, Colorado’s Avalanche Information Center tracks the probability of a sudden release of side mountain snow.

It does make you think when you kid asks at Christmas for what he wants and it is an avalanche probe, a safety beacon rescue ski signal transmitter. The sports get more dangerous the older, more serious we get right?

Maine, big state, she’ll take your breath away. In a good way.

I’m Maine REALTOR Andrew Mooers, ME Broker
207.532.6573
info@mooersrealty.com

February 18, 2013
So God Made A Farmer.

Grateful For All We Had, Were Blessed With. My Mom Taught Her Four Boys That.

Maine is rural, simple living.

Hardworking people and no, not everyone these days is a Maine farmer like they were not so long ago. But most Mainers have exposure to farm life. Growing up, working on a Maine farm. Getting your hands dirty. Down on your knees in the dirt. To make spending money. Or scrape together extra funds to help contribute to the family household finances.

From Maine potato farms to blueberry barrens raking. To fishing grounds, farming a new area of deep cold ocean, working on lobster boats. No matter what the stormy weather. Gotta fish or cut bait. Or oh my aching back clam flats raking, hoeing for big belly steamers. Maine truck farming for local markets. Apple picking, honey production, growing crops, raising critters. Dairy farming in Maine is even more intense, round the clock full throttle. Never lets up. Can’t get sick, you’ll get behind. Never catch up. Get lost by the wayside.

I am lucky enough to have grown up on a Maine farm.

Why was the experience a good one, to place both feet on the ground, help keep the head screwed on straight? To give perspective about life, a greater awareness and appreciation with deep gratitude the take away? Because Maine family farming, any farming operation is serious stuff. Not part time, hit or miss. You’re in or your out. Sink or swim. Do or die. You pay you stay, your don’t you won’t.

Paul Harvey “So God Made A Farmer” Video.

Why do you do what you do? How do you do it? What is your purpose in life and what is the source of passion, awareness, work ethic? What is filling the well deep inside you that stirs, causes fire in your belly? Mine is outdoors, the Maine land. What really matters. Shakes you up, makes your tongue hang out. The source of peace, contentment, my industry. Thank God in Maine. Away from mobs of people. Where you can hear yourself think. Sitting down at a bean supper at the local church, farmer’s museum. Or pulling up a diner stool with someone to share our breakfast eggs and bacon. Rubbing elbows. Comparing notes. Exchanging life puzzle pieces. Without the spin, hype, drama, happy horse, cow, chicken, sheep etc STFU manure bull crap.

Life, no one gets out alive.

But before we draw our last breath, don’t get too comfortable. Apply pressure to stop the bleeding, slow the shift of the life sands in the hour glass. I am so lucky to live in Maine, Vacationland full time. Because the four seasons splendor, unspoiled natural beauty is here to tap into, enjoy year round. And if you happen to want to capture the hard work, not all glamour of owning a Maine farm, I know a Maine real estate broker that’s an eager beaver. A little red hen to give you a leg up. Owns one too. Walks the talk. Not all hat and no cattle. Did you notice that something about back to basics simple living, down on the farm theme stole the show? Saturated this year, hitting the Super Bowl ad spot cluster rotations all over the place.

Double click, or tap tap the screen for something with lots of acreage, hectares of Maine farm dirt, land.
For more on Maine farms, property listings. Oh and for the record, I love Dodge trucks. Got a four wheel drive maroon colored one in the Maine family farm estate purchase from my three brothers. A 1999 Dodge pickup with a 318 V8, a Fisher quick switch snow plow and only 11,000 miles on her so far. Not registered. Stays, works on the Maine farm round the year. Ram tough. Like real down to Earth, hardworking people in Maine.

I’m Maine REALTOR Andrew Mooers, ME Broker
207.532.6573
info@mooersrealty.com

February 17, 2013
Pididdle, Skin A Cat (Elevator Tree), Chalmerize.

Local ways of communication, expressions slung back and forth in conversations in Maine.

Where everyone in your small Maine town knows exactly what you are saying. But use the word, expression unique to your area down country or out of state and whoa. Eyes get big, conversations you are in grind to a halt. And others left behind wonder what did he just say?
Maine Moose Further Up In Aroostook County Safe From Drunk Hunters. Shooting Lower State Cows, Horses.

Canadian English, or the influence of French Acadian poetic license part of the different dialect here in Maine. But terms like “chummy”, “wicked good” are “mister man common” as all get out in Downeast sections. A yuh. You cunning chowdah head. Somehow eating more seafood and all that salt water, brisk damp air and lighthouses all add to the comedic language twist.

Comedians in Maine make their bread and butter from the colorful expressions that cause a chuckle.

Like “she has a wicked decent body but looks like someone took a clam rake to her face”. ‘Nuff said. We’re still in the family hour and this blog post is G rated. More on Atlantic Canadian colloquialisms.

But if you are ever on a national big money game show. Quizzed under the hot center stage spot light about the headline for this Me In Maine blog post, here are the answers if “from away”. A piddle is a one front light out motor vehicle. Skin a cat means climb up a tree until it bends over and glide back to the ground safely. Variation of the term by kids trying to get the same point across whip up their own code expressions. That just those in the neighborhood or the same tree clubhouse would ever know how to decipher what the term “elevator tree” means.

Chalmerize, think detailing a car like no other.

Spit polished, clean, keen and show room spiffy. Coined from a car detailer name Chalmer Karnes who applied the elbow grease to making a car factory fresh for a small fee. Not just glossing over the vinyl, leather or genuine imitation wood trim of a vehicle with a can of Pledge. Using tooth brushes to with dental floss precision remove lint, grime, crud, junk that builds up in a car.

From drive through spills, animals, lousy weather snow and mud, gravel that pile up, travel with a motorist. Chalmer (locals call him Chalmah) would remove seats, deep shampoo several times the rugs and go the extra mile of car detailing. Got a reputation as Top Gun from his attention to detail. Punch buggie no return can cause a flinch, your arm to hurt just with the words uttered too while we are on the subject of cars. That spotting of a VW bug and the bonus points for a pididdle blinded in one head or fog light. But a pedunk is a car or truck with a missing tail light.

Something for the kids to pass the time on a road trip to Houlton Maine. Along with counting cows, other collectibles to kill time on the highway. While Mom and Dad “shoot the breeze” up front. Taking turns switching off shot gun position, playing Bonnie and Clyde.

I’m Maine REALTOR Andrew Mooers, ME Broker
207.532.6573
info@mooersrealty.com

February 15, 2013
Warmer Temperatures, Melting New Snow On The Maine Farm.

Find Yourself In Maine. All Four Seasons It Means Get Outdoors. Horses Like You, Me, Need Fresh Air!

Outdoors, fresh air, not just you and I thrive on it in Maine.

Barn yard animals, like this Hammond Plantation Maine horse loves being turned out. Not being stuck inside a closed up barn small box or standing stall. Sometimes the fresh air and new snow can have the same effect on horses a new field of clover does.

Eating too fast, too much because it is such a change from the ho hum winter diet.
Horses Like Their Backs Scratched, Rubbed ! And Make Snow Angels Too.
From the few flakes of hay, a coffee can of grain and lots of water to wash it all down. And a mineral lick. Then whoa. Suddenly dessert happens. A rich, thick new red, white, green lush sweet bed of new clover. To wine and dine on. To roll in. Spring fresh air casts the same spell.

Enjoying The Day. Scratching Your Own Back. Making Yourself Happy. Maine Horses Do It.

Caught a few hay burners in Maine horsing around this afternoon and thought I would share their antics.

Makes you take a lesson from the animals. To live in today, enjoy the weather and being grateful we all live in Maine. Get to tap into Vacationland all year round. Not just a three day weekend, one puny week a year and that’s all you get. To tide you over until next year.

Any season, for a slew of reasons, get to Maine. Don’t keep her waiting. Staying away too long only makes it hurt more once she gets into your system. As she tugs on your heart playfully. Sample other Maine images. And be honest. Don’t you feel a stir inside, an urge, an itch to make Maine part of your mental health and physical exercise diet? Square away the spiritual side of things too with the surroundings of natural, unspoiled beauty that no way man could have created.

I’m Maine REALTOR Andrew Mooers, ME Broker
207.532.6573
info@mooersrealty.com

February 13, 2013
Customer Service, Nothing Like One On One Personal Flexibility.

The Problem Solving Of A Customer Service Rep is Harder These Days. The Callers Problems Trump Manners Sometimes.

The product, service you got a whale of a deal on is all fine and dandy until something fetches up, hits a sandbar.

Goes a ground. Until things end up a muck, you don’t lay awake nights wondering whether the firm gets five gold stars for service. Is not something on your personal radar. Until loss of a service. Rut ro. The product dies that you are dependent on big time happens. And you find yourself in the breakdown lane flashing four ways with the hood up so to speak. Just wanting restoration.

For starters, it’s not the fault of the person in quality control, trouble shooting.

But training to be sensitive, get to the bottom of the problem and to direct the “back on your feet” process is key. Sensing frustration growing from the customer but not taking it personal. Being tough skinned but sensitive and caring. Tender hearted, empathetic is an art form and needs an ET glowing heart to power it.

But during “what’s the problem” trouble shooting, being asked about will you take a little survey on how we’re doing is the last thing on the caller’s mind. Now is not a good time to expect, look for some positive feedback. Like dialing the 800 number for “how’s my driving” staring at you while waiting for the jaws of life.

Stuck wedged, bleeding and looking thru small slit blood shot eyeballs.

Smack dab into the back of the semi that caused the multi car pile up with the number to call request on the wreckage. While the on and off, hold the phone while we reroute this call unfolds. Drags on. Or while the APB goes out for the MIA man hunt for someone else that can offer the caller help. It can get old, tedious. When the derailment of the service, or down time for a product repair or replacement gets some age on it. After weeks and weeks run into each other with still missing service. Or a dead product that stopped ticking, spinning, doing whatever it was trained to do on the assembly line.

If you were a Maine small mom and pop business operation, the on hold ad propaganda to sell something probably would not be playing on and on.

And having to ask someone else for help would not either. Because the owner is in the store, on the phone and deals with the issue all the time. Knows the product and service backwards and forwards. Sometimes help calls re-routed to some other solar system can mean the danger of dying from old age, left stranded on hold.

Automation is part of today and eliminating jobs to have a healthy head above water bottom line. To stay a float in business. But going through the “if this punch 2, if that tap 3” when none really apply can get old. As tons of time eaten up that the automation is suppose to save ends up doing the opposite. And over and over, return calls happen because the issue is not resolved. But for some reason does not get kicked upstairs to expedite resolution.

I feel bad for folks in large impersonal companies that can give the impression they don’t really like where they work. That somehow the caller is being a nuisance. It would have been nice if the whiner with the problem could have called after their shift was over. To get a new “how can I help you” brand new voice.

On hold, selling something pre-recordings that loop on and on interfere with the other end caller.

Where the customer could be doing another task while waiting. But over modulated commercials are coming at the caller like asteroids, or being battered by hail stones. Silence is golden but the caller has to be ready if someone does come on the line. Or wakes you up from droning off in the hurry up and wait that can make your head foggy, swim. Trying to do something productive comes out of the delay if you neck cradle the phone or put it on the speaker for the rest around you to have to sample.

Fix it yourself used to be the only and quickest option before everything got highly specialized. In a throw away, replace the module or entire device happened as quickest, cheapest. The best return of investment of time as personnel feel escalating tension as the issue is not dealt with to the satisfaction of the caller.

The key is sensing when frustration is not anger with you from the person trying to just get help.

It is simply end of their rope, boiling over building up. Down to their last nerve and you are standing on it happening. You are the fortunate one that the luck of the draw, rotation caused you to be the one on the friendly firing range. Keeping your head down and staying calm. Working the scenarios for solutions. Maine, common sense, respect for others stills happens every day. Every one just wants to help.

I’m Maine REALTOR Andrew Mooers, ME Broker
207.532.6573
info@mooersrealty.com

February 12, 2013