Dr.Jass
Pastor of Muppets
I lost my phone Thursday night.
I thought I'd left it in my jacket, which got left in the garage of the friend with the big-block Chevy II. He brought the jacket to work the next day, but there was no phone in it.
So, I had the guy with whom I'd ridden out to the garage search his car. No luck. He even stopped by the garage and checked it out but to no avail, although all he did was stand in the garage and call my phone. No sound.
Then I had the guy that owned the garage go out and have a look-see when he got home from work. He tore the place apart and couldn't find it.
We'd stopped at a gas station. I called them. No one found anything, or at least no one gave it to them if they did.
I was positive I'd had the phone with me when we left my house, but I searched the house anyhow to no avail.
Not good. I live alone, I can't drive. If I injure myself, what am I gonna do... e-mail 911?
Today, one of my friends who was there stopped by (the guy who searched his car), and on a whim I said, "Let's go back out to Dan's and have one more look-see. This is making me nuts." So back out to the garage for search #3 of the place. I'm looking all over and Dan swears that he's looked everywhere--the phone isn't there, pure and simple.
Then I look at the chair I was sitting in at one point. More specifically, I look at the small-but-ominous, full drain-oil pan underneath it. I look at Dan jokingly and say, "I'll bet that fucker's in the drain oil." Neither myself, Dan, or Mark thought for a second it was really in there, but Dan says "I should drain that anyhow." So, he goes out in the yard by his drain tank while Mark and I stay in the garage, and shortly thereafter Mark starts laughing uncontrollably. He could see Dan through the window. Dan was staggering he was laughing so hard. Sure as shit, the phone had slipped out of my pocket, and rather than hitting the floor it bounced off the chair rung into the oil.
So, Dan staggers back into the garage (he's stone sober but that entertained by this--it's not his phone, after all) and shows me the source of Mark's laughter. There's my poor little phone, covered in nasty-ass drain oil, in the bottom of the pan.
Junk, but at least I have the SIM card with all my phone numbers, addresses, and e-mails on it. I may not have a phone, but I have the critical data.
As if to add insult to injury, Mark grabs his cell phone and calls mine. Sonofabitch, the display lights up and it starts vibrating!!. :dance: So, I fish it out of the drain pan and start wiping the oil off the poor thing. I get it all cleaned up and dial Mark's number. Drain oil squirts out each button as I push it, but sure enough, the prick calls out. I can't believe it. I can hear Mark clear as a bell, but he can't hear me. Shit. Still, pretty incredible.
I took it home and disassembled it, and cleaned all the oil I could possibly get out of it. I call Mark again at home, and now he can hear me. I sound like I'm 5 feet from the phone, but damn it, it's clear. The only remaining problem is that it doesn't ring very loudly. I can hear it if it's up to my ear, but otherwise it's too faint but even that's improving. It's charging as I type this.
:banana:
So, I have a phone again. It's not perfect, but it works... after spending nearly four days fully submerged in a pan of drain oil!! You gotta admit, that's pretty astounding.
Call me a Motorola customer for life... and you can call me, because the damned thing still works! Of course, I may not hear it...
I thought I'd left it in my jacket, which got left in the garage of the friend with the big-block Chevy II. He brought the jacket to work the next day, but there was no phone in it.
So, I had the guy with whom I'd ridden out to the garage search his car. No luck. He even stopped by the garage and checked it out but to no avail, although all he did was stand in the garage and call my phone. No sound.
Then I had the guy that owned the garage go out and have a look-see when he got home from work. He tore the place apart and couldn't find it.
We'd stopped at a gas station. I called them. No one found anything, or at least no one gave it to them if they did.
I was positive I'd had the phone with me when we left my house, but I searched the house anyhow to no avail.
Not good. I live alone, I can't drive. If I injure myself, what am I gonna do... e-mail 911?
Today, one of my friends who was there stopped by (the guy who searched his car), and on a whim I said, "Let's go back out to Dan's and have one more look-see. This is making me nuts." So back out to the garage for search #3 of the place. I'm looking all over and Dan swears that he's looked everywhere--the phone isn't there, pure and simple.
Then I look at the chair I was sitting in at one point. More specifically, I look at the small-but-ominous, full drain-oil pan underneath it. I look at Dan jokingly and say, "I'll bet that fucker's in the drain oil." Neither myself, Dan, or Mark thought for a second it was really in there, but Dan says "I should drain that anyhow." So, he goes out in the yard by his drain tank while Mark and I stay in the garage, and shortly thereafter Mark starts laughing uncontrollably. He could see Dan through the window. Dan was staggering he was laughing so hard. Sure as shit, the phone had slipped out of my pocket, and rather than hitting the floor it bounced off the chair rung into the oil.
So, Dan staggers back into the garage (he's stone sober but that entertained by this--it's not his phone, after all) and shows me the source of Mark's laughter. There's my poor little phone, covered in nasty-ass drain oil, in the bottom of the pan.
Junk, but at least I have the SIM card with all my phone numbers, addresses, and e-mails on it. I may not have a phone, but I have the critical data.
As if to add insult to injury, Mark grabs his cell phone and calls mine. Sonofabitch, the display lights up and it starts vibrating!!. :dance: So, I fish it out of the drain pan and start wiping the oil off the poor thing. I get it all cleaned up and dial Mark's number. Drain oil squirts out each button as I push it, but sure enough, the prick calls out. I can't believe it. I can hear Mark clear as a bell, but he can't hear me. Shit. Still, pretty incredible.
I took it home and disassembled it, and cleaned all the oil I could possibly get out of it. I call Mark again at home, and now he can hear me. I sound like I'm 5 feet from the phone, but damn it, it's clear. The only remaining problem is that it doesn't ring very loudly. I can hear it if it's up to my ear, but otherwise it's too faint but even that's improving. It's charging as I type this.
:banana:
So, I have a phone again. It's not perfect, but it works... after spending nearly four days fully submerged in a pan of drain oil!! You gotta admit, that's pretty astounding.
Call me a Motorola customer for life... and you can call me, because the damned thing still works! Of course, I may not hear it...
