Like most crackpots, I have some really strange dreams. They usually don't bother me and it's amazing how quickly I forget them. But sometimes I will remember them well into the next day. The worst ones are just snapshots. They don't run on and on through dark, crazy, black and white scenes that are loosly connected. They are in vivid color and contain only a single scene, usually with little or no motion. It's very much like looking at snap shots.

Last night's snap shot was a little disturbing. I saw the west end of my shop, lights on, a shelf of trophies above several brightly painted motor scooters. There was the picture of Mark Martin on the left, storage cabinets on the right, my rocking chair in the foreground, and the air was filled with smoke. Lots of smoke.

Part of the problem is that I am at my daughter's house in Georgia and my shop is 170 miles to the north. The dream woke me up and the first thing that crossed my mind was that I had left the battery charger plugged in, charging the battery on the Eagle. This should not be a problem because it is one of those 1 amp chargers that you leave on for long periods to maintain a charge when the battery is not in use. But in a room full of combustable fluids, you don't want to think about smoke. There is also a small electric heater in there, but we have had a warm spell and it has been unplugged for a week.

Yes, there is a smoke alarm in there and it is wired to one upstairs so that if one detects smoke, they both go off. But with nobody home . . .

I'm sure that snapshot will be on my mind until Saturday when I get home and can check to see that all is OK.
Howard