F is for truck...................

Progressing apace:






It's a 1981 Chevy Silverado, as clean as it looks. I've had my eye on it since last fall............certain the whole time that someone would surely buy it at the price before I could get in a position to have it myself.

Wheels are the capital "F" in freedom.

Sunday was my birthday. Monday night, Cassie cooked a great supper of chicken enchiladas,and served up cake and ice cream. She and Cheyenne sang the B'day dirge and gifted me with a watch and two sacks of strong dark coffee beans from Starbucks. Now I can be wound up and ONFUCKINGTIME, by God!

An egregious waste of candle wax (a petroleum product after all) except that if we hang on to these for 27 years we can reuse them.

Some part of me will always be a railroader.....................and that means NEEDING to know what fucking time it is, or how long you've been at something, or how much time you have left before you have to be somewhere.............etc. ad infinitum. My old watch shot craps a few months ago and I've seriously tried to adapt to a less time stressed orientation but to no avail. I don't want to wait 'til sunup to get going, I want to be ready to go at sunup..................which means knowing when sunup is and what time it is now in relationship to sunup.


At any rate, this timepiece is a beauty.....................it's got a sheet of instructions the size of a garrison flag and I'm sure it took the brainpower and technical expertise of a major electronics R and D outfit to program it. So far I've figured out how to set it (it only took me two days).


Happy Birthday to me....................

Thus endeth the entry.................