Long Awaited Road Trip

When my oldest daughter was two years old, I took her on a cross country trip. Just her and I. A father/daughter trip.

My wife had no desire to go along since she absolutely hates driving anywhere in the winter. This is probably due, at least in part, to a trip the two of us took before we got married. A trip that contained a little extra “adventure.” I wrote a blog about that event, which you can read here.

But back to the father/daughter trip. We traveled from Wisconsin to Wyoming to visit my parents at Thanksgiving. A memorable trip, and one I still look back on fondly. At the time, a few people thought I was crazy. Apparently, fathers do not generally take their small children on long trips. Well, I guess I’m not normal. We had a great time and I wouldn’t trade the experience for anything. A few years later, I again took her with me, to Missouri this time.

Some years later, when my son came along, he and I made several road trips, to Wyoming and other places. Again, these trips made for great memories that I reflect on quite often. Reminiscing, as it is called. Now, I realize as a truck driver, my view may be skewed, but there’s something about a long road trip that connects people in a way nothing else can.

But wait, there’s more! I also have another child, a daughter. As a momma’s girl, when she was young, she never wanted to be away from her mother very long at all—with me or anyone else. And so, the two of us never took any extended trips together. That is, until this last weekend. She’s now an adult but better late than never, right?

Being that we’re smack dab in the middle of winter, as you can imagine, my wife did not wish to make the journey. So, the two of us, my daughter and I, drove to Idaho to help my son move. A three-day trip that brought back a lot of memories from the travels with my other two children and reminding me of what I’d missed out on with her.

Of course, this time, I wasn’t “in charge” of, well, anything really. I didn’t have to hold her hand when we got out of the truck, order her food, or think up road games to pass the time. In fact, I didn’t have to take care of her in any way. She is quite a capable person! In some ways, that made this trip quite different. Yet, in many ways it was the same. A father/daughter road trip. Just her and I.

And at last, my trifecta of father/child road trips is complete! Good thing too. Because, apparently, I’m older than I used to be. Although I drive for a living, weekend trips tend to wear me out these days. But before I go to bed for some much needed sleep, I just wanted to say thanks to my daughter for traveling along!

Bruce A. Borders is the author of more than a dozen books, including: Inside Room 913, Over My Dead Body, The Journey, Miscarriage Of Justice, and The Wynn Garrett Series. Available in ebook and paperback on iTunes, Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, Diesel Books, and Smashwords, or at www.bruceabordersbooks.weebly.com. Amazon Profile - http://www.amazon.com/Bruce-A.-Borders/e/B006SOLWQS. Bruce A. Borders also serves as the Vice-President of Rave Reviews Book Club.

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RAVE REVIEWS BOOK CLUB

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Ready-Made Pile Of Manufactured Grief

Writing last week’s post about being cold, reminded me of a car my wife and I once had. I should point out that we haven’t always had the best of luck when it comes to vehicles. And this particular vehicle, a Pontiac 6000, was exceptionally problematic.

There’s an old saying that goes, “If it don’t come easy, let it go.” We should’ve heeded this warning. Just buying the car was a chore in and of itself. It took the better part of a month due numerous delays from everything imaginable, from the dealership to the bank. But we were persistent because it was such a good deal—or so we thought.

We paid $3,500 for the four-year-old car with relatively few miles on it. But that, as we discovered, was just the initial buy-in fee. And what we bought into was a classic money pit. This car was a lemon of the sourest variety—and a very expensive one at that.

From the moment we drove off the lot, the car began having problems. Some were small and rather insignificant, others were major. The cost of the car immediately began to skyrocket. In the four years we owned the vehicle, we replaced nearly everything that could be replaced; alternator, regulator, power steering pump, injectors, air conditioner, master cylinders, wheel cylinders, wheel bearings, the list goes on and on—and on. We also had to do major repairs to the transmission and engine, multiple times.

I used to spend practically every weekend working on that car, fixing something, and then hoping it would run for another week. Usually, it didn’t. Yes, this vehicle was the source of much frustration; exasperating is what it was.

But perhaps the most annoying feature was the car had no heater—and we lived in Wyoming and then Wisconsin. In case you aren’t aware, it gets down right cold in both of those states. Neither are the place to be in the winter with no heater in the car.

I guess I should clarify what I mean by no heater. When the outside temperature is -25 degrees or colder, and the car is blowing out air at 0 degrees, technically, that would be a heater. But that is a rather meaningless, and ultimately useless, technicality.

Of course, I tried to fix it. I bought several new thermostats, flushed the cooling system several times, replaced the radiator (twice), and installed a new water pump as well as a new heater core. Nothing made a difference. We finally decided that as long as we had that car we were going to freeze in the winter.

Once we were finally able to trade it off, just for fun, I compiled a list of all the parts I’d replaced or repaired, and then listed the price. Adding it up, I found the total was over $10,000! Our $3,500 car had cost us $13,500. No, that didn’t include regular maintenance items like tires and brakes.

After this aggravating experience, I decided I was through buying used cars and our next vehicle purchase was a brand new pickup—a pickup that lasted exactly eleven days before the ignition broke. Like I said, we’ve not always had the best of luck when it comes to cars.

Bruce A. Borders is the author of more than a dozen books, including: Inside Room 913, Over My Dead Body, The Journey, Miscarriage Of Justice, and The Wynn Garrett Series. Available in ebook and paperback on iTunes, Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, Diesel Books, and Smashwords, or at www.bruceabordersbooks.weebly.com. Amazon Profile - http://www.amazon.com/Bruce-A.-Borders/e/B006SOLWQS Bruce A. Borders also serves as the Vice President of Rave Reviews Book Club http://ravereviewsbynonniejules.wordpress.com

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RAVE REVIEWS BOOK CLUB

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Dogs Versus Cats

I’m a dog person. Or, rather, I am a person who likes dogs, not some sort of cross breed of the two. Being that humans and canines are completely different species, that would be most unusual. My point is I am fond of dogs, not cats. And I think both of them can tell my preference because dogs seem to gravitate to me, while cats tend to slink away. I have a lot of reasons for my partiality to dogs, as I’m sure all you people who prefer cats do. If you are one of the strange sort who like cats, that’s okay. I won’t try to change your mind; I just have a story to tell.

Several years ago, my dad and I went exploring one day in the middle of Wyoming. We were miles away from civilization and hoping to find something of interest. And we did.

Walking on a high plateau, with a huge cliff in front of us, the scenery was breathtaking. Wanting to get a better view of the valley below, I moved forward and peered over the edge of the cliff. And there, not six feet down the wall, on a small rock outcropping, sat a cougar, or mountain lion if you prefer.

Not being a fan of cats in general, and particularly not ones big enough to kill me, I wasn’t impressed. Since the only gun I had with me was a .22 pistol, I did the most prudent thing I could think of and slowly backed away, half expecting the startled cougar to bound over the rock rim and come after me. To my relief it stayed put. Like I said earlier, cats tend to move away from me. Apparently, it didn’t like me any more than I liked it, which was not much. Not that I would have enjoyed the prospect of seeing a wild dog (wolf) in the same situation.

Fast-forward a few years. My job of driving truck consists of hauling garbage to the high dessert to a landfill – at night. As you can imagine, it’s not all that unusual to see cougars there scrounging for food, especially in the dry years. One night, just as I pulled the air brakes on, I saw one – a big one. It was standing about twenty feet in front of my truck seemingly unafraid of the sound of the engine, or the horn, I found.

I wasn’t about to get out as long as the cat was there – once again, I didn’t have a gun to shoot it. Thinking I might be there a while, I prepared to sit back and wait, watching it as it stared back at me. Then, for some unknown reason, the big cat suddenly sprang off to the left, disappearing across the field. Something had spooked it, that was obvious. I didn’t know what though, until I opened the door and got out. And then I heard them – a pack of coyotes yapping. From the sound of it, they were very close and getting closer. Now I knew why the cat had been scared away – the coyotes, members of the dog family, had come to my rescue! See? As I said, dogs gravitate to me and cats slink away. Just the way it ought to be, I think. After all, I’m a dog person.

Bruce A. Borders, author and songwriter, has over 500 songs and more than a dozen books. Over My Dead Body, The Journey, and Miscarriage Of Justice, his latest books, are available on Apple I-Pad®, Amazon Kindle®, Barnes & Noble Nook® and Sony Reader®, Kobo, Diesel Books, and Smashwords. For more information, visit www.bruceaborders.com. See Bruce’s Amazon Author Page at www.amazon.com/author/bruceaborders or view his Smashwords Profile at www.smashwords.com/profile/view/BruceABorders

No Help Wanted

Everything is easier with help - or so I've been told. Dividing the workload leads to increased productivity, right? Not necessarily. Sometimes it's faster, and easier, to forego the help. Or maybe it all depends on who is helping.

Back when I lived in Wyoming, my dad and I used to make regular fall trips to the mountains to cut wood for the winter. On one such excursion, we took along another guy who had volunteered to help.

Due to the high fire danger level, chainsaws were banned, so we opted for the old standby of yesteryear, the crosscut saw. For those of you too young to remember, or not familiar with this type of saw, I'll explain how it works. A crosscut saw is typically 7-8 feet long with a handle on both ends. Using it is a two-man endeavor. One guy pulls, keeping pressure against the tree, while the guy on the other end holds just enough pressure to keep the blade in place, allowing his arms to extend with the motion - but not pushing. Then it reverses. The second guy pulls while the first one relaxes. Back and forth, this continues as the sharp teeth on the 8-inch wide blade do their job. While not as efficient as a chainsaw it does work remarkably well - but only if both men have at least a small amount of coordination.

Arriving at our favorite tree-cutting site early in the morning, my dad and I cut down eight or nine dead evergreen trees. After clearing the branches from the trunks, we sectioned them into 8-foot logs. Then, we loaded the logs into the pickup and my dad left for town to unload them, leaving me and the other guy to cut another load while he was gone. At least that was the idea.

The two and a half hours he was gone should've been ample time to have another load ready - with time to spare. Should've, would've, could've - wasn't.

That's the day I learned some people just aren't cut out to use a two-man saw. The guy tried, really tried, but it just wasn't in him. I'd pull, and he'd pull, or push hard, bending the saw, which doesn't work either. After several frustrating attempts to explain the concept, I realized that having help that day might not have actually been much help. When my dad returned, we had just one small tree cut - and I'd had to finish that one off with a bow saw. (A one-man saw that requires no help).

The guy felt bad so we allowed him to redeem himself by clearing the branches off the trees as we cut them down. We soon had another load ready to haul and took it back to town. We made several more woodcutting trips, that year and others, but I don't remember ever taking anyone along to help again.

The saw we used has long since been retired but recently, we found a new use for it. This past weekend, while visiting my parents, I painted a picture on the blade, an oil painting of a mountain scene with evergreens, similar to the place where we once used it to cut our firewood. The rustic antique is now hanging on the wall in my parent's home, a picturesque reminder of days gone by. Yeah, I reminisced a little while I painted. The project did take a fair amount of time - and yes, some work - but no, I didn't have any help.

Bruce A. Borders, author and songwriter has over 500 songs and 9 books. Over My Dead Body, his latest ebook, is available on Apple I-Pad®, Amazon Kindle®, Barnes & Noble Nook® and Sony Reader®. For more information, visit http://www.bruceaborders.com/ or http://overmydeadbody.jimdo.com/