Christmas Wish List

 I call my wife back in Texas, and I ask her, "What do you want to do about Christmas?"

The question is more poignant than ever in 2021, I've been gone for two months.  I have settled into a small trailer to be on site to consult with our contractor as we struggle through supply chain and labor shortages to rebuild the house that burned down five years ago. I expect I will be here well into 2022. It is a necessary, but severely disruptive set of circumstances for me to be isolated out on our 50 acres of woods.

I tell her, "I've got a Christmas gift for you, but it is too big to mail."

"Ooh, what is it?" she asked with piqued curiosity.

I tell her, "It's a surprise. No peeking."

She then asks me, "What do you want for Christmas?"

I am quick with my response, "I want you. And I think you should plan on coming out to Washington to see the Christmas present I have waiting for you under the tree."

We decide, by necessity, 2021 will be a 'different Christmas'. She is busy with her church job through Christmas Eve, then she can come. She decides it is best to fly to Seattle on Christmas Day. I am excited to unwrap our packages on Christmas Day together.

I tell her, "Perfect, I will have this year's gift for you sitting under the tree, waiting for you to come out and see it!"

***

Don't tell her, but when she gets here she will find that I have put a beautiful new house built for her under a giant Douglas Fir Christmas Tree for her Christmas present. I think she'll like it. 

My 2021 Christmas Gift to Sue: A unique snow covered chalet tucked under a giant Christmas Tree

Winter Wonderland waiting for my wife

Beginning to look a lot like Christmas 'round here

 

I am living beneath a large Christmas Tree. 

I've been under the Christmas Tree since October. 

I used to think that Christmas could never come too early. But I now become exasperated when the Christmas decorations come on display in October. In Texas, October can often be 95 F degrees. It doesn't feel like Christmas, it still feels like summer in October. 

I have learned to wait for Christmas, I have learned to enjoy everything it its season. This year I waited under the Christmas Tree and Christmas did come to me.

Living under the Eighty-foot Douglas Fir Christmas Tree outside my tiny travel trailer in Washington, it began to feel a lot like Christmas with the short days, the rain and the cool fog. I was in the mood for a bit of Christmas festive festoons and lights. I could use some shining holiday lights to brighten my spirits under my current lonesome living conditions. A minor extravagance, a festive string of Christmas lights stretched from the utility pole to my humble abode made it start to look a lot like Christmas 'round here!

 

 

 

 

Merry Christmas and Yule Y'all!

 

Little House in the Big Woods - Put A Lid On It

 

As if from heaven above, the long-awaited roof trusses descend. The house rebuilding project is resurrected.

 

In case you haven't noticed, everything in the world is out of phase.

Same rule applies to constructing a house in 2021. No matter how one tries, one just can't link the materials, with the labor, with the permits, with the best prices with what I wish, I wish, I wish would happen. 

Me and my home rebuilding project are discombobulate; the hip bone is not connected to the leg bone - oh hear the word of the Lord! The old spiritual sings of resurrection and the Prophet Ezekiel's vision of dry bones rising up and being restored to life. Oh, dem bones goin' rise again, hear the word of the Lord!

From my on-site trailer home, I look across the land and in my vision is a skeleton, a skeleton of a house. Bare bones and a pile of sticks and studs. Because I am in the Pacific Northwest during a record-setting amount of rainfall, and not in Israel, dem bones I see is anything but dry. But I have faith, because dem bones goin' to rise and become a full, flesh and blood house. Have faith and you will see the restoration of the that old house that burned. Yes, dem old house bones will be resurrected.

Oh Lord, how long must I wait? cries the prophet. The bones of the house are framed and rise above the remaining foundation, but the framed house is still bare bones. I wait. At the beginning of December the framing crew moves to another job for lack of anything to do here. Dem dry bones get soaked with the rain that continues to fall on the just and the unjust alike. I have nothing to do but wait. Wait for the promised resurrection.

Part of the problem and the delay is that we are redesigning major elements of this house on the fly. Where once a flat roof was planned, those plans were scrapped because a flat roof is incompatible with the skylight over the kitchen. New plans, new engineering, new design, new truss package and more delays - unfortunately delays are not new to this project.

On December 8, 2021 the skies clear, the clouds part and as if from heaven on high; the long awaited roof trusses are delivered. The crane lifts them up and my roof trusses descent from the sky. I have seen the resurrection.

 

Truck load of progress arrives, December 8th, 2021

 

Construction site

Up they go to get nailed down

 

Framing crew puts a lid on the house.

 

Roof trusses are lowered for the crew to put in place.

 

High-ceiling trusses go on the redesigned roof, no longer a flat roof.

We started in the basement on November 2nd and by mid-December we have reached the roof. It has taken six weeks to top it all off. With the roof decking stretched across the roof trusses like new skin on dem old bones, the old, burnt and dead house has risen again. Time to put a lid on this chapter.

The old bones of the former house have been resurrected. The newly risen house has a new skin on dem bones. Hallelujah!

 

Thanksgiving with the Whole Washington Family

 Strange how perspectives and lives get rearranged with time, isn't it?

A Strange masked gnome stands guard over his Thanksgiving Pumpkin at Sheri's entrance.

My wife grew up in Washington State with her six brothers and sisters. Two of the six remain in the area. In 2000 we arranged to buy the 50 acres of orchard, woodland and stream that Sue's mother was living on. The plan was to someday resettle on the old Cook place and host family and friends at our country manor. Decades slipped away and we remained in Texas. We would visit our land when timing and schedules allowed, we would talk of "when we get back to the Pilchuck," (shorthand for our land that is bisected by the Pilchuck Creek). We would causally speak of "when..."

Strange that our future landing zone in Washington remained an unfulfilled promise to ourselves through the years while I watched all of the Suneson family relocate to Western Washington. Sister Sheri's husband found work with the State of Washington and they relocated from Idaho after starting in California. Mom and Dad, gaining in years and deciding to give up lakeshore living in Western Montana, asked all of the family to help select a senior living facility for them close to Sheri and move them there near Olympia. Mom and Dad moved to Washington in October, 2018. Sister Wendy retired from California teaching and when her husband's job was eliminated in Fresno, California, they found new employment and enjoyment in Anacortes, Washington. In a span of three years, everyone of my family had relocated to Washington. Yet, we who owned acreage for twenty years and had 'plans' to settle on that land in Washington; remained strangers to the Evergreen State. Everyone accidentally ended up in Washington - except us. Strange indeed.

When the Sue's old family home burned, that started a slow chain of events that evolved and eventually dictated that I drive from Texas in October, 2021 to live in a borrowed travel trailer under a grove of cedars and firs as I worked with our contractor to rebuild the house on our land. 

 

Sheri & Tony hosting Thanksgiving for ALL the Washington Family

Wendy & Barth arrive from Anacortes, WA

 

 

Dad, and my Brothers-in-law Tony and Barth gather in Sheri's kitchen

 

Since circumstances had me away from Texas and living in Washington, I accepted Sheri and Tony's invitation for Thanksgiving at her place 103 miles straight south on I-5. The whole Washington Family would be there, including my nephew Brian and his wife Amy with their 6-week old daughter, Ellie Rae. Everyone was in Washington, except my wife.

For the Thanksgiving table I brought a bottle of Washington wine and a jar of the famous homemade sweet pickles that I picked up at Sue's brother Bill's place on my way through Wichita Falls en route to Washington. 

It was a grand feast with all of the family gathered. Little Ellie was a show-stopper cutie as she tried to keep up with the conversation.

 

Nephew Brian and his delightful wife, Amy, bring the charming Ellie Rae to Thanksgiving Dinner

 

Grand Niece Ellie with her 'Santa Uncle'

 

Great Grandpa Al with Brian, Amy & Ellie

Strange how we were once all located close together in California back when, then dispersed to Texas, Idaho, Montana - only to find the family once again gathered close to one another in Washington. A Strange and Thankful day indeed.

Sheri and Tony, announced to everyone that they were expecting to close on a new house after Christmas. We cheered and begged them to show us their soon-to-be new home under construction a few miles away. 

 

Sheri & Tony's new home. They'll move in after Christmas.

Much for which to be thankful!

Little House in the Big Woods - From the Ground Floor Up

 

 We start back in Square One.

Rising up from the basement level, stairs climb to the ground floor.

Inside Square One is a daylight basement, three concrete walls are all that remain standing in Square One after the house was burned by arsonists on Halloween of 2016. 

Building code requires framed walls to cover the concrete walls left standing after the fire. I ask that a bedroom also be roughed-in in the basement. After some difficulty in locating a framing crew for the job, the basement framing gets underway on November 2, 2021. At last! A tangible start.

A significant redesign changes what is needed to span the basement and give support for the ground floor on top of the basement walls. The architect had trusses going across the open expanse with no support. The contractor and the truss company rep agreed; as designed, that large of a span would give me a 1 1/2 inch bounce in my floor as I walked across my living room if there was not additional structural support added to where the architect had none. Solution: Add a large beam across the middle of the basement to support the trusses. Done - for a few more dollars.

Framing the living space on redesigned floor trusses

Everything is a few dollars more. 

More truck loads of lumber arrive and are stacked on site. The framers, after waiting twelve days for the floor trusses to arrive, can now add the decking for the first floor and build my house up from there. The crew is from Mexico and they prefer to work on Thanksgiving and make a few dollars more, rather than celebrate an obscure Yankee holiday tradition. I hand each member of the crew a $20 bill as a holiday bonus on Wednesday before Thanksgiving. 

I leave the next morning for Turkey and all the fixin's after they arrive on Thursday morning at my sister's place in Tumwater to feast and give thanks.

The walls go up! The dream house takes form.

 

The walls go up, defining the rooms of the house that existed only on paper and in my dreams. For years I have walked into these rooms in my mind, now I step up on a real floor, my footsteps are audible as I and walk between tangible wall studs. I'm walking out of a dream into reality - or, is it the the other way around?

Living room bay window view east toward the Back 40

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The dining room - A room with a view

Looking across the landscape from the front porch

Either way, there is reason to give thanks for dreams becoming reality.

Getting Old in Isolation

Memories of my earlier birthdays, ages 4 and 5; I recall that I seemed to always get a painful ear ache that ended the party early. 

Many years have passed and my health has been fine on my birthday and the celebrations have been more than less to my satisfaction. The second half of my life, my wife has worked harder every year to out-do the previous year's extravagant, flaming creation. 

Time passes and things change. No wife, no cake, no fire marshal to approve the concentration of 64 candles on a cake. This year I'm living in a trailer down by the river during record rainfall in the sodden Pacific Northwest. The rain comes down, the river rises and my sister Wendy has a place 34 miles up the road. Wendy says, "Hey big Bro - it's your birthday! We've got a cake and party planned for you, c'mon up."

It's an invitation to leave my tiny trailer and the rising water to celebrate making it this far in life. When Elvis, Karen Carpenter and George Harrison were this age, they were dead. Life is short, eat dessert first. 

The somewhat semi-official 'Elephant Cake' was created and given but a few candles to saddle. Funny hats were passed around and I had three gifts to open. I got a package of almond roca from sister Sheri, a emergency space blanket from Wendy and Barth and a box of goodie treats from my wife.

We ate pizza, we ate cake and times were good enough for an old guy. 

I took the extra parts of the chocolate elephant back to the trailer to eat for dessert after a meal of almond roca and left over pizza. 

As always: Enjoy the Journey.

 

 

Little House in the Big Woods - In Mud We Truss

I left Texas on October 20. 

My plan was to come to the Pacific Northwest to oversee the building of a house. 

My plan should have been to come to the Pacific Northwest to build an ark.

At the end of November I've been near continually rained upon for 31 out of 36 days. I expected rain in the Pacific Northwest, I also expected the rain to stop sometime. It hasn't. At best it has merely paused to gather more moisture from the atmosphere and then pour it upon my head and the earth. The air is too thin for fish to swim, yet nearly too wet and thick to breathe. The construction site has become the definition for a slopapalooza mudfest. The framing crew shows up every morning and works through the weather. I give them credit - I would not want to do it.

The center support beam is added to the design so floor trusses don't have to span the entire width of the basement.

Once the basement was framed up, we needed the floor trusses to span the length of the basement on which to put down the sub-flooring decking for the first floor. The truss company rep looked at the architect's blue prints and shook his head; "No way this design is going to work for this house," he said. "I framed houses for years, you shouldn't put your trusses across that kind of span." 

Floor trusses come nine days late. Supply Chain.

My contractor and the truss man agreed, the way it was drawn, the floor would have about 1 1/2 inches of bounce when you crossed the living room. At best, a poor design. The truss company then redesigned and came up with a new scheme that involved two heavy beams supported on top of the basement's cement walls and the trusses would only span half way across the basement void,  resting on the center beam for support. It took four redesigns and days of delay before we had a workable plan.

Arriving floor trusses drop down in a rare break from the ever-present rain.

We were told the trusses would be arriving on November 10th. The redesign and engineering set us up for delays. I've heard this tune before. Phil, the contractor, rattled their chains and they promised the re-engineered trusses would be built and delivered on the 17th - No, strike that, they would now be ready on the 19th.  

 

Crew set floor trusses according to the 4th redesign plans.

Twelve day delay waiting for trusses

The truck carrying the trusses found a less muddy place and set its outriggers and used its boom to unload the package of floor trusses. It looked like a return to progress after spending long, idle days waiting inside my trailer as I watched the rain come down with no construction going on.

The framing crew had finished their work as far as they could on November 10th, waiting for the promised trusses before they could continue. The framing crew returned to work on November 22nd, after twelve days of dead time. 

The place had not gotten any drier. The crew set the beam and slid the floor trusses in place as the rain came down. I gave praise for the return of home building progress. 

My motto: In Mud We Truss.

 

LIttle House in the Big Woods - Frame Up

It's a different world this side of COVID-19. Of course, we all know this in our own peculiar way. For me, this side of the Covid virus looks to be more costly in time and dollars. The lumber package to build the house had increase 2.75-fold from the original bid in February, 2020 (when we got the bid bid and were ready to start building) to May, 2021 when we got back on our feet and re-submitted the plans to build the house after a state-wide ban on construction and industry. It would have saved a bunch of money if we were allowed to build last year.

Nobody saw a global pandemic resulting in an American housing shortage and a building supply crunch in labor and materials. What a strange twist. With a shortage of construction workers, we were forced to delay the delivery of the lumber package, no sense in having it sit for a prolonged period on the job site with no one available to use the material to build my house.

Framing Crew of six arrive on November 2.

Phil, our general contractor, had a few possibilities for getting someone to start framing only the basement. Phil was stuck finding a crew to frame the whole house. We had enough 2x4's and 2x6's delivered for framing the basement - once we had contracted with someone. I waited. Phil made numerous calls. Finally, Ivan responded and sent a crew out on November 2nd to begin framing the house. It was an exciting day for me.

 

Crew readies for work.

 

Rising from my bunk to unlocked the gate at 5:15 AM, anticipating the framing crew's arrival. They showed up before 6 AM with six men, one of which spoke English. Phil went over the plans with the translator and Antonio, the foreman. Antonio needed to say very little to the rest of his crew as they knew what to do and got to work with their battery-powered circular saws and pneumatic nail guns.

 

 

Measure twice, cut once. Immediately off to a bad start. The architect charged good money to come to the site from Seattle and take measurements before he drew the plans. He then drew up the plans showing 8 foot tall basement walls. The crew looked at the blue prints showing 8' walls, measured them at 7' 4" - 8 inches too short. The problem is that standard doors will not fit in the basement as drawn. We had to use many additional linear feet of 2x6s stacked on the top of the foundation to build it up to the specified 8 foot height before framing could begin.

Cement foundation built up by 2x6s to add the needed 8" so standard doors will fit in the basement. View looking NNW from what will be the dining room. Root cellar, 12' by 13' on the left to be under the kitchen.

In the beginning... there was a void, an empty 1391 square foot basement slab; a void surround by three concrete walls.

On the First Day, the void was filled with 2x4's lining the walls. The underside of the new creation was formed, and I saw that it was good.

Basement west wall is up, looking through French door opening.

View WNW overlooking large third bedroom in basement.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

North view from dining room corner.

South view. Finished framing the basement. Large support beam is laid, waiting for floor trusses to be delivered to span the basement and support upper stories.

 

Little House in the Big Woods - Spooks and Demons

 Demons at the gate. 

 

Demons do not always visit at night. 

There was a sense of slacking that the medieval monks termed the 'Mid-Day Demon'. It was mid-day, and I was taking a break from my cement form scraping duties when the sound of a sputtering engine was heard rounding the trees. To my prejudiced ears, it sounded like trouble. It had the sound of the kind of vehicle a slacker, a mid-day demon would drive, poking around for opportunities to steal from the unwary. 

In a moment a last-legger, beat-up silver minivan came into view on my driveway. As soon as I saw him, he saw us. He spun around and sped off my property as I shouted and gesticulated as I trotted toward trouble, chasing the suspicious noise-maker from my marked property through the gate we had left open while working.  

Later in the afternoon that October 25th, Phil and Dave called it quits and left to return the rented forms. I was alone. I was thinking it would be a good opportunity to do some target practice with my Colt 32 handgun. I was loading the magazine when a gray Honda came trolling up the drive. I holstered my pistol, and marched down the center of the gravel strip holding up my hands indicating that they needed to stop. My holstered sidearm was openly visible as I approached the intruder.

The man in the passenger seat threw his hands out the window as I strode toward the car, indicating that he didn't want to be shot for ignoring the posted Private Property, No Trespassing signs on the open gate. The woman driver rolled down her window and I glared in at her, using strong language, a typical for me, I asked her "What the fuck are you doing on my land? The place is posted No Trespassing, this is private property. Get the hell off my property!"

She was indignant, explaining "The gate has always been closed, and we saw that it was open and we wanted to..."

I interrupted her excuses, "This is private property, stupid fucking idiots like you are not welcome, even if I have my gate open, it is not an invitation to enter my place! It says 'NO trespassing'. I don't want you here."

She argued with me, "Well we just wanted to see..." 

I shouted at her, "We've had a lot of problems here. The gate was always closed for a reason. You are not that special. Those signs apply to you, you sweet ass bitch."

Her passenger, eyeing my gun on my hip and listening to my unmistakable hostile tone, repeated, "Hey man, we don't want any trouble. We'll leave."

She continued in her offended voice, "OK, we'll leave then" [if you are going to treat us so rude and threaten us]. I snapped photos of them as they backed out. Some people.

On Saturday morning, I stood at the small sink washing my face in a bowl of warm water that I had heated in the trailer's microwave. It is an overcast morning the day before Halloween. I see two young men walking up my driveway as I look out the trailer window. Trespassers!

Six hundred feet down the gravel driveway the robust steel gate is locked. The posted signs say:

NO TRESPASSING

PRIVATE PROPERTY.

I pull my shotgun from the closet and step out of the trailer to confront the two. There eyes widen at the sight of my gun as they explain that Ivan sent them.

I hold the stock of my shot gun in one hand and relax. "Sorry, but you were supposed to call to let me know you were coming. I've had a lot of problems with bad people coming onto my property."

Phil had given me hope earlier in the week that a recommendation from his sales rep at Cascade Lumberyard through his contact with the truss manufacturing salesman had led to Phil calling Ivan, who may be able to supply a framing crew shortly. Ivan got back with Phil and said he would call Phil later and send somebody out to the job site - maybe. 

I apologized for the rude greeting as I walked with Jose back to the gate to unlock it and let him in with his F-150. 

I called Phil to let him know Ivan's men were on location. Phil drove up twenty minutes later and they asked if he would like them to start on Tuesday?

Phil told them, "Not until I know how much this is going to cost. If I like the price, then you can start."

Phil dickered with Ivan over the phone and got $11,000 cut in the initial bid. It looked like we had located a framing crew. They would come out and start on Tuesday, November 2nd.

The next afternoon, the rain had paused and the sun slipped under the clouds as it lowered to the tree tops in the west. It was All Hallows Eve, Halloween; an inauspicious anniversary had arrived. It was five years ago that evil came onto our property and burned our vacant house to the ground. I had been deprived of not only rental income, but my sense of trust and sanctity of a man's property. It was all in ashes now. I retrieved my shot gun and chambered three shells and shot 00 load into the woods on the hillside to frighten off any lurking evil demons on the fifth anniversary of the arson fire that destroyed the old home. The smoke curled from my 12 gauge barrel and the report echoed among the firs and cedars. I had established a living presence on my place and the demons were being kept beyond the gate.

LIttle House in the Big Woods - Foundation

 Five years of regulatory purgatory. Waiting on architect, structural engineer, approval for water well and a 'Critical Environmental Site Survey' and a geohazard slope failure risk analysis. Then, just when were ready to build the house - a year of shut down by the state for Covid-19 response. You can debate me, but most of these wasted five years was over-regulated government over-kill.

By August, 2021, our General Contractor has lined up vendors to begin construction. GC Phil says, "You should be out here around October 24, that's when we're scheduled to get started."

Four days of driving  and I clock almost 2,200 from Garland, Texas to my gate in Arlington, Washington. Two attempts by criminal elements to drill-out and then cut the lock on the gate earlier in the month has made it necessary to replace the two damaged locks, for which I do not yet have a key. I'll have to get that new key from Phil when we meet.

I pull off I-5 at dusk on Saturday, October 23rd and pull into the drive and hop over the barrier eager to see what progress has been made on the remaining foundation. There are three concrete walls left standing after the fire five years ago. Those walls have been patched and new forms have been set to pour the foundation for the southern extension of the the new footprint and two bay window foundations have been added. The forms are still in place, but inside them is the solid cement for the new beginning. 

I inspect the signs of progress and my soul is filled with hope that finally, dreams will shift from the abstract lines on paper plans to tangible walls of concrete reality.

Phil and Dave finish the foundation work.

I bunk with my sister and brother-in-law in their home in Anacortes, 34 miles from the Pilchuck Place. I consult with Phil on scheduling for work. I wait for three days and then meet him and his brother on site. Phil and Dave pry off the forms, my job is to scrape them clean of dried cement and load the heavy forms into his van to be returned to the building material rental shop - before they are stolen from the site like Phil's $8,000 worth of cement forms were last year.

I scrape and lift and then scrape, chip, clean and then lift and load. Repeat about 80 times. I am tired and cold working under the the Pacific NW liquid sky. I return to a hot, soaking bath and  bed in Anacortes. My appetite has evaporated. 

I am mystified. Hard physical labor in cold weather should make my body demand a high caloric intake. I'm not feeling it. I think I might be a little bit pregnant - remembering my wife explaining that the smell or even sight of some food while being with child was a big turn-off. I sort of get it now. Strange.

Dave and Phil rest in front of their foundation work.

The new cement foundation sits fallow. Phil is making many calls trying to line up a framing crew. Everyone is busy; the supply chain is broken, demand outstrips supply. There is a labor shortage. No framing crews reply to his voice messages. No one is available. I am concerned.

Phil puts a hold on the lumber delivery since we have no workers to build the house with the material that is waiting to be delivered. Eventually we take delivery of enough 2x4's and such to frame the basement - once we have found a crew.

 

Lumber load is dropped. Enough to frame the basement - once we can find a framing crew in this crazy, supply chain labor shortage delirium.

 

Materials arrive, Waiting on workers.

October 28, I move into the trailer on the property to keep watch on building material, fearing theft. It has happened before. I have purchased a 12 gauge shotgun and carry a Colt 32. I have taken firearms instruction. I don't expect to use them, much less force the issue with any intruder after I call the sheriff if their is attempt to breech my gate. But I am prepared to defend myself on my own land.

I settle into my trailer behind a locked gate every night. Vigilant for any signs of forced entry onto my property where valuable building material sits waiting for it to be turned from a stack of lumber into a dream home.

I can see the little house in the big woods in my imagination. The foundation is laid. The future by definition must always be a dream. But I can wander out into the morning mist and touch the concrete foundation. I say to myself, the dream rest right here as I place my hand on the firm reality of a concrete foundation.

 

See the lonely boy, Out on the road...

 

 

Bahmp Bahmp Duhmp,

Bahmp Bahmp Duhmp,

I think I'll buy a pickup,

and take it down to LA.

See the lonely boy out on the weekend, 

trying to make it pay. -Neil Young, "Out on the Weekend"

 

Coming into Cheyenne, Wyoming going north on I-25 after a night in Colorado Springs, I make the casual curve that connects me to I-80 westbound, catching the lifting, pale morning October sun in my rearview mirror.  I'm on the road west and I slip ol' Neil Young's Harvest CD into the yet-to-be-used slot on the upper part of the dashboard equipped with all the bells and whistles that have become standard in the fifteen years since I last purchased a vehicle.  

 

I'm not sure of the meaning of his lyrics of which Neil Young sings, but the words resonate with me as I press the accelerator and hear her growl as I climb toward 90 MPH - what I affectionately call 'Wyoming Speed'. 

 

 

I sing along in my head, changing the lyrics;

 

I think I'll buy an SUV and take it out to WA.  

See the lonely boy out on the road,

trying to make it pay. 

 

I debated this move. I like driving cars that are paid for. I do not like to be beholden to anyone. I like cash flow in more than cash flow out. But there comes a time - a time to say it has been a good run and to look toward the future. In preparation for my long trip and bivouacking in my 50 acre woods, I decided that that time had come.

 

Good ol' 'Sandy Q' had given me 230,000 virtually trouble-free miles over the last fifteen years. The hole in her floor mat had worn clear through into the underlying carpet. A couple of her dash lights had burned out along the road. I believe she'd likely give me several more thousand score of miles, but I couldn't be sure. A big life change was upon me, I was going to take an open-ended trip to Washington to live a primitive existence on the harassed construction site where I was going to be building a new house. I valued reliability and 4WD on the muddy tracks of the Pacific Northwest, where I could not afford to have a broken-down vehicle in unfamiliar territory.

 

Sandy Q brought a few bucks for her silver, road-worn chassis. I got a high-riding, 4WD dark and admittedly 'bad-ass' highwayman persona in a 2015 Toyota 4Runner. I try to live a life of no regrets. 

Bahmp Bahmp Duhmp - 

I think it was a good choice,

to buy an SUV,

and take it out to WA. 

 

I log 2,174 miles from my Garland driveway to the gate on our acreage. The autumn open road was a pleasant experience as I scanned the horizon anticipating the unexpected around the next curve, mostly in a metaphorical way, as I play out the scenarios of my future in my head. I'm logging those miles riding a high horse, feeling secure in my choices and believing the coming changes will be for the good. 

 

I've noticed that women will often change their looks, get a new hair style change up their color choices during or after a life change like a divorce. Maybe not acting as deliberately as that, but I too, have passively allowed my looks to change; not cutting my hair or shaving since the end of August, 2021. I'm not sure their is a clear reason for my actions, but I do think it gives me the look of a wild man of the woods. Should any of them thar criminal varmints show up, I will appear as an Old Testament Prophet of Doom or a pistol slinging Yosemite Sam. Just best not to mess with a wild man in a metallic charcoal gray 4WD.  

In the mean time, I remind myself to Enjoy the Journey.