Its December already. Bust out the shorts. Kick off the doonas. Brace for storms.

The year is pretty much gone, and there's not much to remember it by. Nothing really remarkable happened the whole year, or at least nothing I could care about. The company I worked for was bought out by a giant Mega-global Super-corporation. End result, I now have to say about 30 extra syllables whenever I answer my work phone. Nothing else. The world economy and Aussie dollar have fallen faster than a former Australian Idol, and similarly, nobody seems to care. Its business as usual, only difference I can see is that I now can fill my car for less than $60. I'm not seeing the downside here. Then some (half) black guy got elected as Prime Minister of America... big deal. Morgan Freeman did it first, and he was all black. He even did it without Jack Bauer. Plus, Barrack doesn't get sworn in till January, so it doesn't even count for this year. So really, 2008 is 2007 plus one. Bring on 2009.

I'm looking forward to taking some annual leave, putting my feet up and cracking a beer. Which is largely what I do at work except without the beer and I have to get up (slightly) earlier. I've got the equivalent of two months of annual leave owing, so I can afford to. This year, with mates, I've got plans to do another Fraser mission over New Year. Fraser Island isn't exactly the most exciting place on the planet, but there's always the chance of hitting on some unsuspecting British tourist. And if not, sleeping in a drenched sleeping bag never gets old.

Getting to Fraser, well now that will require a working Pajero. I haven't actually looked at the thing in weeks, the only person to even curse at it has been a neighbour as its parked in the spot they put their wheely bins. I could move it by driving it on starter motor. However, that subtle way they put the bins as close as possible to it (as if I might worry about the garage truck hitting it) turns me off the idea completely.

When last we left the Pajero saga (you may remember) we had relocated the surge tank to the rear of the car and fitted an in-tank pump inside the surge tank. It apparently worked, but the car wouldn't start. Its possible the front mounted surge tank had not failed after all, though at this stage its hard to tell what works and what doesn't. The current theory is ECU fault or wiring issues. There is not much worse than diagnosing car electrics. In fact there are two things worse, one is a prostate exam, the other is diagnosing ghetto car electrics.

So bright and early on Saturday morning I woke up with fresh enthusiasm to get started on fixing the Paj. Ten minutes later I was fast asleep again. The enthusiasm not extending to putting my feet on the floor. A couple of hours later I dragged myself out of bed, force fed myself a couple of coffees and something resembling in every way breakfast but for the time of day, and went outside in the heat.

The car was looking a bit worse for wear. An impromptu garden on wheels had sprung up due to the sheer amount of mud filling every crevice. There was even a water feature in the drivers side foot well, which to be honest, was really inspired design. It gave the whole car a focal point but with a certain visible warmth that showed real restraint. Of course, I'm sure there's rust everywhere now. The places you can see it aren't really where you'd expect it. Like the dash. I mean, its not even steel. Come on.

When I was finished admiring the landscaping, I got stuck into the electrics. The fuel pumps definitely seem to work, there is even a reassuring fuel leak which says there is some fuel pressure. There is also plenty of spark. The next thing to check is timing (which shouldn't have changed), and all those dodgy little splice connectors. They all seemed to be fine. For some reason the injectors don't seem to be firing.

My knowledge of how injectors work is pretty limited. From what I gather these are high impedance style injectors, whatever that means, and they are supplied with +12 volts the whole time and are energised by switching the circuit to ground. So in theory, with the ignition on, putting a multimeter on one of the plugs and grounding it should show voltage. If there's no voltage then its either an ECU fault, or a wiring fault, or both. I was just about to test that, when some storm blew in from nowhere. Nature strikes again.

So I gave up on that nonsense, had a shower that lasted slightly longer than the storm did and headed over to Phil's for some random beers and Rock Band/World Tour hilarity. Driving just after a daytime storm is the most boring drive there can be. Everyone drives like they have their Grandmother in the car and a cop behind them. Mr White 2008 Camry driver, if you are reading this (And I know you aren't because your internet filter software blocks sites with the words, penis, cunt, horn, moist and Britney Spears. All staples of this blog.) you can't crash your shitty car no matter how hard you try, its far, far too boring to allow you to do that.

Speaking of, hypothetically now, what would stretch your friendship more: a house mate inviting a stranger into your house or your mate putting your car through a fence? Its all relative I guess. And hypothetical of course. Something to ponder anyway.

Anyway, I rocked up at the house. I had forgotten to bring food or beer, but within a minute I had both. I'm not sure who they belonged to, and I'm pretty sure I didn't ask. I had a chat Phil, Marc and Dave about Japan and all that. I had a look at the Zed and the half-cut. Its still got a long way to go but Dave strikes me as the sort of person who might actually do his research before he picks up a spanner. Do things right and only do them once and all that. Not my style, but each to his own. I don't think a major engine swap can be done with JB-Weld, zip ties and a grinder, though.

After a few more of someone elses beers and after we got bored of watching an overweight Chinese mime with a cockney accent beat up police officers and pedestrians, we got stuck into Rock Band. I've never really been a big fan of the Guitar Hero games, the whole hitting keys at the right time seems very NES and not in a good way. I'm also shit at them. Rock Band and World Tour add the new elements of singing and drumming, the former which I'm clearly a bit partial to. I'm still very shit at it (can smash out Final Countdown and Creep though), but its hilarious because of that. I'm also usually spectacularly drunk.

I swapped around with Ian on lead vocals. Marco was on Bass and Lead Guitar, Dave's GF alternating with him. Dave was on drums (he had the best hair for it). Gene arrived at some point with more beers and Phil left after receiving a better offer. I was disappointed that Gene never took on vocals because I think that would have been the best thing ever. It continued on well into the night with a pizza break, and eventually everyone's fingers started cramping up. My voice was shagged too, but you wouldn't have noticed.

I think I left around 1am, drove home and crashed hard (in bed, not someone's lawn). I woke up the next day, with half an intention to work on the Pajero. It was far too hot though, so I left it for next weekend. I played Red Alert 3 the whole day instead. I mean surely December won't get any hotter, right?

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