I titled this Paramedic School "I" because I KNOW there are going to be more blogs about this.
For my fans, fear not I will get back to "Small Town" soon,
I'm just an "ambulance driver" for now, but I'm going through Paramedic School. First of all, don't call us ambulance driver's, there is so much training and hard work involved. We're called EMTs for a reason. Emergency Medical Technician.
Paramedic School is ridiculous, I honestly don't know how there are any Paramedics on the face of the earth right now. I call it "Dr Light". There is so much information to cram into your brainus, so many hours of riding on an ambulance for free, so many hours of working in an ER for free, so many hours of studying. So much time and dedication.
If you ever find yourself in need, and I hope you never do, but if you hear the words "Hi, I'm Bill. I'm a Paramedic and I'm here to help you." You are in the hands of angels.
I'm at the end of our first semester of 3 in Medic School. My brain hurts from the amount of information being crammed into it. My back hurts from all of the lifting. I'm literally emotionally and physically exhausted. STUDY! QUIZ! STUDY! RIDE TIME! STUDY! CLINICALS!
I have doubts of whether I have the knowledge and or skills to pass this class and actually become a Paramedic. All of this going on while working TWO full time jobs.
Breathe Billy! Breathe! I got this. FOCUS.
I got to thinking today about where I am in my own life, and where I want to be, I want to be exactly where I am right now. In Medic School.
On a recent trip, I felt as though I was making my own music video in real time. Here's how it played out:
Medic 101
Medic 101
Code 3 in the city, Diabetic Emergency
Medic 101 roger, on the way
And at that exact moment, this song came on. I literally turned the red lights on a 00:46 into this song.
Lovin EVERY minute!
Nothing personal, but I never want to meet you. But if you touch that dial.... start me like a motor, make me run!
You called me on your worst day.
That's when I'm at my best.
Sunday, December 6, 2015
Tuesday, November 10, 2015
Small Town: Fairs
While I was working at McDonald's as the night watchman/maintenance dude, the carnival rolled into town in the plaza behind us. I had become familiar with the "carnies" as they are called through my years at our local county fair. I however, had not become familiar with Tara! I DID have a Mustang Cobra at this point though! One night after work I decided to hit the local carnival. Hell, what else did I have to do?
SO against the grain of my inner being, I actually went up and talked to a stranger! A girl even! Tara and I hit it off from the word go, even though I don't believe "go" was ever said.
Tara was shorter than I by about a foot. Long blonde hair, a bit overweight, but she had all the right curves in all the right places. She would meet me at my beach job ( I STILL do not know what she did for a living!!!) and we would sit and chat. Nothing every really happened with her, but it was certainly nice to know someone from the south was interested in me. We went fishing, we seemed to have muttled our way though our teenage years with each other as friends,
It was at this point that I turned in my first application as a firefighter. Cape Coral FL was hiring, and I wanted to be a part of it! Even though at this point I had not a flipping clue what "it" was.
It's also at this point in my life that the turbo Mustang I just bought became important, Dad and I spent HOURS on this car until we learned that blah blah blah. We got it running HARD CORE!
Tara had lost interest in me at this point, but had also taught me so much about I don't have to be alone, and this GIRL wants to be with me. Curvy, soft and she smelled good. I can't blame her at all, she was willing to teach, I was worried about the car. Retrospect, dummy me. DUMMY me!
So here I am a few months later. I have the world by the ass, although I didn't know it at the time, and Dad comes into the garage.
Junior, we have to talk. "We're moving back to Ohio son."
Ahhhhh shit Dad. Shit. Dad? SHIT! Really? Gulf Coast Florida, 17 years old, Killer Mustang, making money, and I know about girls now. We work on boats for fun, we go fishing 40 feet from our house. I don't know what's going on on your end, but life is GRAND on mine!!!!
When are we leaving Pop? How can I help?
Tara was already gone, no more making my own food at McDonald's, no more beach. No more bikinis. No more anything I had grown into an adult as, and grown to love.
Point the Orange Mustang north. And at that exact moment, my Flo-Rida life was over.
SO against the grain of my inner being, I actually went up and talked to a stranger! A girl even! Tara and I hit it off from the word go, even though I don't believe "go" was ever said.
Tara was shorter than I by about a foot. Long blonde hair, a bit overweight, but she had all the right curves in all the right places. She would meet me at my beach job ( I STILL do not know what she did for a living!!!) and we would sit and chat. Nothing every really happened with her, but it was certainly nice to know someone from the south was interested in me. We went fishing, we seemed to have muttled our way though our teenage years with each other as friends,
It was at this point that I turned in my first application as a firefighter. Cape Coral FL was hiring, and I wanted to be a part of it! Even though at this point I had not a flipping clue what "it" was.
It's also at this point in my life that the turbo Mustang I just bought became important, Dad and I spent HOURS on this car until we learned that blah blah blah. We got it running HARD CORE!
Tara had lost interest in me at this point, but had also taught me so much about I don't have to be alone, and this GIRL wants to be with me. Curvy, soft and she smelled good. I can't blame her at all, she was willing to teach, I was worried about the car. Retrospect, dummy me. DUMMY me!
So here I am a few months later. I have the world by the ass, although I didn't know it at the time, and Dad comes into the garage.
Junior, we have to talk. "We're moving back to Ohio son."
Ahhhhh shit Dad. Shit. Dad? SHIT! Really? Gulf Coast Florida, 17 years old, Killer Mustang, making money, and I know about girls now. We work on boats for fun, we go fishing 40 feet from our house. I don't know what's going on on your end, but life is GRAND on mine!!!!
When are we leaving Pop? How can I help?
Tara was already gone, no more making my own food at McDonald's, no more beach. No more bikinis. No more anything I had grown into an adult as, and grown to love.
Point the Orange Mustang north. And at that exact moment, my Flo-Rida life was over.
Tuesday, October 27, 2015
Bad Medicine
Bad Medicine
It's super simple yet complicated. So is everything in life. The key is to make the complicated simple! Simple, right? Or is that make the simple complicated? Or simple?
WAIT A SECOND!!! THAT'S A V-8 DIESEL RUNNING ON ALCOHOL!!!!
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S8-xkrL-iVg
Do you automatically make simple things complicated? I call that "drama", but drama is a time for another blog. Not now. Do you want to make complicated things, "simple"? I call that "Life."
The key here is to make what seems "complicated" simple in your life. By adding complicated things. Complicated things are nothing more than things in your life that are out of your comfort zone. As I have said before, the only, the ONLY way to improve your life is to learn new things. The only way to learn new things.... is way over there. Out of your comfort zone. So if there is something "complicated" in your life right now, lets add more. We're gonna add YOU out of your comfort zone to add positive to the situation.
Its that simple. Embrace the complicated things in your life, its a way of learning. Add YOU from the unknown. Out of the comfort zone, That situation is no longer complicated. NEXT!!!!
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U78Ji5vXInw
Karma gives the real battles to the warriors.
It's super simple yet complicated. So is everything in life. The key is to make the complicated simple! Simple, right? Or is that make the simple complicated? Or simple?
WAIT A SECOND!!! THAT'S A V-8 DIESEL RUNNING ON ALCOHOL!!!!
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S8-xkrL-iVg
Do you automatically make simple things complicated? I call that "drama", but drama is a time for another blog. Not now. Do you want to make complicated things, "simple"? I call that "Life."
The key here is to make what seems "complicated" simple in your life. By adding complicated things. Complicated things are nothing more than things in your life that are out of your comfort zone. As I have said before, the only, the ONLY way to improve your life is to learn new things. The only way to learn new things.... is way over there. Out of your comfort zone. So if there is something "complicated" in your life right now, lets add more. We're gonna add YOU out of your comfort zone to add positive to the situation.
Its that simple. Embrace the complicated things in your life, its a way of learning. Add YOU from the unknown. Out of the comfort zone, That situation is no longer complicated. NEXT!!!!
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U78Ji5vXInw
Karma gives the real battles to the warriors.
Tuesday, August 18, 2015
Year 26, Day 1
25 years ago today, The City of Struthers thought it would be a good idea to hire me as a firefighter. What an incredible journey its been, I hope they still believe that was a good decision.
Back in 1990, I was a young man full of energy, but lacking on fire service knowledge. Thankfully I was surrounded by others willing to mentor and teach. Over the years, I've grown as a person and as a firefighter. I've been a leader, an instructor, a role model. I'll never be a master of my craft, but will always keep striving to be.
Over the past 25 years, I've seen so many things. Some I'd like to forget, but most I will cherish for the rest of my days. If you're from "Outer Space" (What I call people NOT in the fire service) there are no words to describe The Brotherhood, I'm not even going to attempt to. My second family. The people I've met, the places this job has taken me, the opportunities it has afforded me. Hopefully I've been a mentor to a few of my Brothers, I know for sure I've learned more from them than I could give back in three fire service careers.
Today I find myself much older, hopefully much wiser and way down on the energy side of this business. I realized how the tables have turned, and how I'm now an "old timer" teaching the next generation of firefighters the art of our craft. Again I'm thankful to be surrounded, but this time by firefighters willing to listen and learn. I've always been a student, and will be until they put me in the ground.
I assure you, this is not a "farewell" letter. Its a THANK YOU! Thank you for putting your faith and trust in me to be there when you needed me. Thank you for skills, tools, and knowledge you have given me.
I can't wait to see what's next!
Back in 1990, I was a young man full of energy, but lacking on fire service knowledge. Thankfully I was surrounded by others willing to mentor and teach. Over the years, I've grown as a person and as a firefighter. I've been a leader, an instructor, a role model. I'll never be a master of my craft, but will always keep striving to be.
Over the past 25 years, I've seen so many things. Some I'd like to forget, but most I will cherish for the rest of my days. If you're from "Outer Space" (What I call people NOT in the fire service) there are no words to describe The Brotherhood, I'm not even going to attempt to. My second family. The people I've met, the places this job has taken me, the opportunities it has afforded me. Hopefully I've been a mentor to a few of my Brothers, I know for sure I've learned more from them than I could give back in three fire service careers.
Today I find myself much older, hopefully much wiser and way down on the energy side of this business. I realized how the tables have turned, and how I'm now an "old timer" teaching the next generation of firefighters the art of our craft. Again I'm thankful to be surrounded, but this time by firefighters willing to listen and learn. I've always been a student, and will be until they put me in the ground.
I assure you, this is not a "farewell" letter. Its a THANK YOU! Thank you for putting your faith and trust in me to be there when you needed me. Thank you for skills, tools, and knowledge you have given me.
I can't wait to see what's next!
Wednesday, August 12, 2015
The Legend of Carl Dog
Although we already had Dusty Dog, I felt it wasn't fair to leave her home alone so much, as both kids were in school, and my wife and I both worked crazy hours. So I went to see him, and was strictly thinking of finding Dusty a friend. As soon as I met him, he loved me. And I loved him.
Carlin Douglas came to live with us that day, and quickly became part of our family. He and Dusty became fast friends and were inseperable. We named him after George Carlin, and just called him Carl for short. Because who would name a dog George?? That's ridiculous.
His name and personality quickly fit together like an acorn in a chipmunk's mouth. He developed many nicknames such as, Carlos, Carl, Carl from Campbell, Car-Hole (because he really was an asshole sometimes!) Cizzarl Dizzog, Dammit Carl, and the most used CARLDOG. It was almost impossible to just call him Carl.
A few years later, my family found ourselves in a huge predicament. We had to move. Not going in to deatils, its not important. The years had been hard on Ole Crusty Rusty Dusty dog, she had arthritis and could barely stand up on her own. Carlin would actually help her get up sometimes. So it was decided that we would leave our beloved neighbors, and start again at our new home. Without pets. Typing this story reminds me of the pain I felt having to put Ole Dusty Dog down, and we put Carlin up for adoption.
The kids were NOT OK with this decision, and kept asking what happened to Carl. After what seemed like a million phone calls, I finally got someone at the dog pound to breech protocol and she actually told me Carl was adopted by a family with a farm in Brookfield. The kids were OK with that story, and we continued life as a family, adapting to our new home and life without pets. Things progressed as expected for a few months, and we became accustomed to our new surroundings.
One day while I was working on the race car, I can remember what clothes I was wearing! My wife calls me.
"Hey Hon, I just got a phone call from one of our old neighbors. Do you remember Mike?"
"Yeah, why?"
"He just called me and said that Carl is on our old back porch."
"Wait. WHAT?"
"Yes, Carl Dog is on our old back porch. What should I do?"
"You go see if it really is Carl. If it is, you bring his ass home! If he wants to be with us THAT bad, well then he will be!"
"OK. I'll let you know."
"Hon? Carl is here. He's scared, looks like shit, but he's here. He's really here.! It's really Carl Dog!"
"Bring his orange ass home, I'll be there in a few."
The damn dog chewed through his leash to get free. It was POURING down rain that whole weekend. Tornado warnings in all 3 counties. 14 miles, and two major highways to get past. He did it. He wanted to be with us THAT bad!
Carl Dog decided he wanted US as his family. My wife brought him home. HOME. He chose us, he knew where his home was.
The next day, I was on duty at the fire station, We felt it wasn't good to leave him in a new place, after all he just went through. So Carl worked a shift at the fire station. Gave him a bath behind the fire truck. This is when I noticed the pads on his feet were worn from walking on concrete. He had worn his nails down to the point that a few of them were bleeding. He was cold, wet, tired, sore, scared, and miserable. And happy. He slept so hard that day, he snored.
His tail was wagging, because he was with me. He chose us to be his family. I was happy to be with him.
Hanging on the wall in our home, I have his leash from Brookfield and a story. I won't point it out, and its not in an obvious location. But if you ask, I will sure as hell tell you his story!
"Don't Quit"
When things go wrong, as they sometimes will,
When the road you're trudging on seems all uphill,
When the funds are low and the debts are high
And you want to smile but you have to sigh,
When care is pressing you down a bit--
Rest if you must, but don't you quit.
Life is queer with its twists and turns,
As every one of us sometimes learns,
And many a person turns about
When they might have won, had they stuck it out.
Don't give up though the pace seems slow---
You might succed with another blow.
You might succed with another blow.
Often the struggler has given up
When he might have captured the victor's cup;
And he learned too late whe the night came down
How close he was to the golden crown.
Success is failure turned inside out----
Its pressing on past fear and doubt--
So stick to the fight when you're hardest hit:
It's when things seem worst that you must not quit!!!
During the following months, Cizzarl got accustomed to our new house, and the changes that had happened while he was away. He was an ass, and would escape every chance he got. He absolutely KNEW how to open the screen door on the deck! Unless you were watching! Then all of a sudden he got "stupid." He would play "deaf", he would play "blind." If it benefitted him.
We didn't know where he went when he escaped for a while. We would drive around looking for him. Jerri, our old neighbor called my wife one day. Carl is sitting on your old back porch howling. I think he's looking for Dusty.
Something as simple as peeing on a phone pole made him so happy. He chose us as a family, and he went through hell to be with us.
Lessons learned from an animal that didn't judge. An animal that showed us what unconditional love was. An animal that was happy to be with his family. An animal that was part of our family.
Nose in the wind my friend, My Carl Dog.
Sunday, June 7, 2015
Small Town: Flo Rida!
Whistle!
OK, this is SO not my style of music, but it happens to be my favorite "Flo Rida" song, and that's what this blog in my Small Town series is about. My time in Florida.
Like I said earlier, my father went where the work was, at this time he was a big shot at Caterpillar, and they needed someone to get a new shop in Florida running. So off we went!
Started off in Clewiston which is on the south end of Lake Okeechobee. That's the giant lake you see on ANY map of Florida. Man made lake to hide ships during WWII. I learned a lot about different cultures, manatees and BASS FISHING! We didn't spend a lot of time in Clewiston, and to this day I'm not sure why. But that's OK. Oh boy was that OK!!!
We ended up in Cape Coral FL. Yeah, let's take a 17 year old boy to the Gulf Coast full of sand, bikinis, and as I like to call it opportunity!
I drove my first ever vehicle down there, a 1978 Chevy truck. Bought a cap, and loaded all kinds of stuff in the back. Pulled into the driveway on South East 40th Terrace and hit my "La Cucaracha" horn! I'm a redneck from Small Town Ohio, remember? I was kind of a bum for a while, then decided I needed to be a part of this lifestyle I knew NOTHING about.
Little did I know when I played La Cucaracha, that we were literally the ONLY family on the street that weren't millionaires! LITERALLY! Not a huge deal, Dad and I made fast friends, and soon we were working on yachts on our dock in the back yard. I quickly learned the art of salt water fishing, I'd go every night 40' from my back door in the canal. Making some money, not really doing much of anything.
Then the evil world of girls showed up.
I was getting gas in my farm truck one night, dressed in work boots and a flannel. This young blond pulls up in a 380 ZX at the next pump (Purely paraphrase here, I don't remember the car. SHE was HOT, I remember that!) and instantly laughed at me. That hurts. Time to change things to fit my environment. Spent the next 2 weeks working on the truck, just to get more trade in value.
Traded my 1978 Chevy Farm Truck and whole persona in on a (Farmer wasn't cool back then, this was 1987) new style. 1980 Ford Mustang Cobra!
Got a job as an over night maintenance man at McDonald's. Cobra taught me about turbos, of course Dad already knew about them, so we spent a few nights in the garage working on my Cheez-Whiz orange Mustang. Holy shit did that thing scream bloody murder when we were done!!!
I'd go to work at 10:30 PM at McDonald's. Manager would leave at 11:00, store was closed, lock me in. I literally had my own McDonald's at my own disposal. Giant sammich and fries then off to work. Clean, actual maintenance, the ice cream machines SUCKED! Get everything converted over to breakfast, then NAP. Morning manager would let me out at 6:30 AM.
It wasn't long before I found Ft. Myers beach watching the sunrise, even though I was on the Gulf Coast. Just have to look at the water until I saw the sun's reflection. I soon had a second job! At Ft Myers Beach in the rental office.
I can see this story getting long, and I have to cut it apart. But I'll leave you with this. 17 year old with a Mustang Cobra, 2 jobs, more money than I know what to do with, one of those jobs is on the beach, and girls.
God Damn girls Billy.
OK, this is SO not my style of music, but it happens to be my favorite "Flo Rida" song, and that's what this blog in my Small Town series is about. My time in Florida.
Like I said earlier, my father went where the work was, at this time he was a big shot at Caterpillar, and they needed someone to get a new shop in Florida running. So off we went!
Started off in Clewiston which is on the south end of Lake Okeechobee. That's the giant lake you see on ANY map of Florida. Man made lake to hide ships during WWII. I learned a lot about different cultures, manatees and BASS FISHING! We didn't spend a lot of time in Clewiston, and to this day I'm not sure why. But that's OK. Oh boy was that OK!!!
We ended up in Cape Coral FL. Yeah, let's take a 17 year old boy to the Gulf Coast full of sand, bikinis, and as I like to call it opportunity!
I drove my first ever vehicle down there, a 1978 Chevy truck. Bought a cap, and loaded all kinds of stuff in the back. Pulled into the driveway on South East 40th Terrace and hit my "La Cucaracha" horn! I'm a redneck from Small Town Ohio, remember? I was kind of a bum for a while, then decided I needed to be a part of this lifestyle I knew NOTHING about.
Little did I know when I played La Cucaracha, that we were literally the ONLY family on the street that weren't millionaires! LITERALLY! Not a huge deal, Dad and I made fast friends, and soon we were working on yachts on our dock in the back yard. I quickly learned the art of salt water fishing, I'd go every night 40' from my back door in the canal. Making some money, not really doing much of anything.
Then the evil world of girls showed up.
I was getting gas in my farm truck one night, dressed in work boots and a flannel. This young blond pulls up in a 380 ZX at the next pump (Purely paraphrase here, I don't remember the car. SHE was HOT, I remember that!) and instantly laughed at me. That hurts. Time to change things to fit my environment. Spent the next 2 weeks working on the truck, just to get more trade in value.
Traded my 1978 Chevy Farm Truck and whole persona in on a (Farmer wasn't cool back then, this was 1987) new style. 1980 Ford Mustang Cobra!
Got a job as an over night maintenance man at McDonald's. Cobra taught me about turbos, of course Dad already knew about them, so we spent a few nights in the garage working on my Cheez-Whiz orange Mustang. Holy shit did that thing scream bloody murder when we were done!!!
I'd go to work at 10:30 PM at McDonald's. Manager would leave at 11:00, store was closed, lock me in. I literally had my own McDonald's at my own disposal. Giant sammich and fries then off to work. Clean, actual maintenance, the ice cream machines SUCKED! Get everything converted over to breakfast, then NAP. Morning manager would let me out at 6:30 AM.
It wasn't long before I found Ft. Myers beach watching the sunrise, even though I was on the Gulf Coast. Just have to look at the water until I saw the sun's reflection. I soon had a second job! At Ft Myers Beach in the rental office.
I can see this story getting long, and I have to cut it apart. But I'll leave you with this. 17 year old with a Mustang Cobra, 2 jobs, more money than I know what to do with, one of those jobs is on the beach, and girls.
God Damn girls Billy.
Thursday, May 21, 2015
EMS "week"
I'm still thinking of a song to go with this blog post, but haven't come up with one yet.
It's "EMS WEEK!" I didn't realize a whole week was dedicated to what my colleagues do! I was over at the fire station, minding my own Gawd Damn Bizness for 20 or so years. Not paying attention to what they did for me. They made me look good!!!
I don't deserve to be a part of EMS Week, because what these people do is amazing! The people I get to work with will amaze you. Such knowledge and a genuine thirst to help others. I'm grateful that they have accepted me as one of their own. I'm grateful they made me part of their family, because that's really what it is. It's a family. MY family.
I HATED EMS a mere two years ago. Thanks to the people I have met, I now have a career goal in place when I leave the fire service. Thanks to these wonderful people, I now have a purpose in life. A second purpose. I love what I have done in the fire service. I made ZERO friends, I just met new brothers and sisters.
Little did I know, I would make an entire new family when I entered EMS. And I just thought of the song for this blog. "Take A Picture"
Take A Picture
There are too many people to name at this point. What I have learned from EMS, I would simply like to remind you, THANK YOU to those that have taught me. EMS has taught me so much, I wish the same upon those willing to learn!
1. You are there on they're worst day. They called 911 FOR YOU. FOR YOU!
2. Hands. Your hands hold life and death. You get to decide what your hands do. Your patient doesn't.
3. That NREMT test was just that, a test. Welcome to our trauma arrest world!
4. Start time is Mandatory!! End of shift time is optional.
5. There is nothing we would rather do!
I'm grateful for the Nurses, the firefighters, my co-workers. From accident, to ED I get to see it all now, and I want to be the one.
I got you! My name is Bill, I'll take care of you on the way to the hospital.
It's "EMS WEEK!" I didn't realize a whole week was dedicated to what my colleagues do! I was over at the fire station, minding my own Gawd Damn Bizness for 20 or so years. Not paying attention to what they did for me. They made me look good!!!
I don't deserve to be a part of EMS Week, because what these people do is amazing! The people I get to work with will amaze you. Such knowledge and a genuine thirst to help others. I'm grateful that they have accepted me as one of their own. I'm grateful they made me part of their family, because that's really what it is. It's a family. MY family.
I HATED EMS a mere two years ago. Thanks to the people I have met, I now have a career goal in place when I leave the fire service. Thanks to these wonderful people, I now have a purpose in life. A second purpose. I love what I have done in the fire service. I made ZERO friends, I just met new brothers and sisters.
Little did I know, I would make an entire new family when I entered EMS. And I just thought of the song for this blog. "Take A Picture"
Take A Picture
There are too many people to name at this point. What I have learned from EMS, I would simply like to remind you, THANK YOU to those that have taught me. EMS has taught me so much, I wish the same upon those willing to learn!
1. You are there on they're worst day. They called 911 FOR YOU. FOR YOU!
2. Hands. Your hands hold life and death. You get to decide what your hands do. Your patient doesn't.
3. That NREMT test was just that, a test. Welcome to our trauma arrest world!
4. Start time is Mandatory!! End of shift time is optional.
5. There is nothing we would rather do!
I'm grateful for the Nurses, the firefighters, my co-workers. From accident, to ED I get to see it all now, and I want to be the one.
I got you! My name is Bill, I'll take care of you on the way to the hospital.
Sunday, May 3, 2015
Small Town: Scarecrow
One more stop before we head of to the Flo-Rida portion of this story.
As I sit here typing this, I realize it's absolutely amazing what my parents taught me during my childhood. Just enough coddling to get me by, yet enough freedom to go learn on my own.
At this point, I began to actually notice those that made an influence on my life. Dad put a wrench in my hand at the age of 9, and taught me how to use it. I didn't realize it at the time, but Mike's Dad did the same thing. When we finally got together, oh my. And this is the next part of the Small Town story. This is literally when Huck Finn met Tom Sawyer.
I'm not sure how the actual introduction was made, We were young. Looking back on it now, I can tell you that whatever introduction was made at the time influenced both of our lives on a grand scale.
I came from a hard working middle class family, and was put next door to the same. This was the point in my life that I learned the value of hard work. That may sound like I had a horrific childhood, but no. We learned how to work.
Bill, Mike, Kerry, Dan, Dave, Tim, Crowe......
My Dad and Mike's Dad were literally at odds, they were both diesel mechanics. I was "Caterpillar", Mike was "Cummins." That was a different time back then. It was about John Deere Vs. International at the tractor pulls. It was Dodge vs. Chevy on the street.
All of this mechanical knowledge coming from our fathers, and a little bit of rivalry led to fantastic things! We built go-karts, we restored tractors. I was all about Gravely, but Mike was dead set on that David Bradley, and what a fine machine we made out of it.
Mike and I became fast friends. Our fathers did too, soon the Cat/Cummins feud was gone. It became a "standard" of school, farm work, and me and my buddy getting into trouble after homework.
We played War in the woods. We built scale models of roller coasters. We built our own gokarts. Sure, we had the occasional clutch come apart in our face, but that go kart went in the end. We built bicycles, we had a treehouse that we built to house bicycle parts. We bolted skis on the front tires, and studded the back tire. We had electronics in the treehouse to warn of "girls" approaching. We went to school together. And our parents actually taught us.
We repaired fences, we changed oil on tractors, we shoveled manure. Then we built our own dune buggies, snowmobiles, trucks, and dirt bikes. Mike's older brother was dating the hottest thing we have ever seen. We called her "Ginger-Babe" Well, at least I did!
We worked so hard on that farm year round. Selling Christmas trees in season really wasn't a "chore", but that's what we did to keep the farm alive. It wasn't a problem, it wasn't a nuisance, It was just us young adults learning to work on a farm, and provide for others.
I miss those days. I'm sure Mike and Rob do as well. Just past the German Immigrants, Mike's parents had a HUGE influence on our lives. Good wholesome hardworking people. My family lived next door, on a much much smaller farm. It was a treat to live and help on the big farm.
Little did we know, mostly because Mike's Dad never said anything, we were on the verge of a dead scarecrow. We listened to John Cougar Mellancamp's song, and although we never talked about it, I assumed that was a problem far far away from our muskrat traps over here in Small Town.
Scarecrow
We went to the largest county fair in the state. We helped on the farm, and other farms. We were "pickup truck and John Deere hat" before it was cool. We earned extra money by bailing hay on another farm. We drove trucks, and wore John Deere hats before it was cool. Actually, we got made fun of for it. But we were family. And that's all that mattered. Mike's parents were called "Mom" and "Pop" when I showed up, even though Pop wasn't around much, he was way too busy working a full time job and trying to run the farm.
John Cougar Mellencamp was way ahead of us. We heard his "new" song, and thought that's not about us. It can't be about us. We lived in Ohio, not Nebraska.
It was just a matter of time. Those baseball fields we built, fun in the snow, everything we knew. It was about to change.......
As I sit here typing this, I realize it's absolutely amazing what my parents taught me during my childhood. Just enough coddling to get me by, yet enough freedom to go learn on my own.
At this point, I began to actually notice those that made an influence on my life. Dad put a wrench in my hand at the age of 9, and taught me how to use it. I didn't realize it at the time, but Mike's Dad did the same thing. When we finally got together, oh my. And this is the next part of the Small Town story. This is literally when Huck Finn met Tom Sawyer.
I'm not sure how the actual introduction was made, We were young. Looking back on it now, I can tell you that whatever introduction was made at the time influenced both of our lives on a grand scale.
I came from a hard working middle class family, and was put next door to the same. This was the point in my life that I learned the value of hard work. That may sound like I had a horrific childhood, but no. We learned how to work.
Bill, Mike, Kerry, Dan, Dave, Tim, Crowe......
My Dad and Mike's Dad were literally at odds, they were both diesel mechanics. I was "Caterpillar", Mike was "Cummins." That was a different time back then. It was about John Deere Vs. International at the tractor pulls. It was Dodge vs. Chevy on the street.
All of this mechanical knowledge coming from our fathers, and a little bit of rivalry led to fantastic things! We built go-karts, we restored tractors. I was all about Gravely, but Mike was dead set on that David Bradley, and what a fine machine we made out of it.
Mike and I became fast friends. Our fathers did too, soon the Cat/Cummins feud was gone. It became a "standard" of school, farm work, and me and my buddy getting into trouble after homework.
We played War in the woods. We built scale models of roller coasters. We built our own gokarts. Sure, we had the occasional clutch come apart in our face, but that go kart went in the end. We built bicycles, we had a treehouse that we built to house bicycle parts. We bolted skis on the front tires, and studded the back tire. We had electronics in the treehouse to warn of "girls" approaching. We went to school together. And our parents actually taught us.
We repaired fences, we changed oil on tractors, we shoveled manure. Then we built our own dune buggies, snowmobiles, trucks, and dirt bikes. Mike's older brother was dating the hottest thing we have ever seen. We called her "Ginger-Babe" Well, at least I did!
We worked so hard on that farm year round. Selling Christmas trees in season really wasn't a "chore", but that's what we did to keep the farm alive. It wasn't a problem, it wasn't a nuisance, It was just us young adults learning to work on a farm, and provide for others.
I miss those days. I'm sure Mike and Rob do as well. Just past the German Immigrants, Mike's parents had a HUGE influence on our lives. Good wholesome hardworking people. My family lived next door, on a much much smaller farm. It was a treat to live and help on the big farm.
Little did we know, mostly because Mike's Dad never said anything, we were on the verge of a dead scarecrow. We listened to John Cougar Mellancamp's song, and although we never talked about it, I assumed that was a problem far far away from our muskrat traps over here in Small Town.
Scarecrow
We went to the largest county fair in the state. We helped on the farm, and other farms. We were "pickup truck and John Deere hat" before it was cool. We earned extra money by bailing hay on another farm. We drove trucks, and wore John Deere hats before it was cool. Actually, we got made fun of for it. But we were family. And that's all that mattered. Mike's parents were called "Mom" and "Pop" when I showed up, even though Pop wasn't around much, he was way too busy working a full time job and trying to run the farm.
John Cougar Mellencamp was way ahead of us. We heard his "new" song, and thought that's not about us. It can't be about us. We lived in Ohio, not Nebraska.
It was just a matter of time. Those baseball fields we built, fun in the snow, everything we knew. It was about to change.......
Monday, April 27, 2015
Small Town: Roots Grow Deep
I lied. Not going to tell you about my time in Flow Rida just yet. Important lessons learned in Flow Rida, including the first and only time I had a gun pointed at me, but that story comes later. I realized the time when my roots in small town started to grow, and that's an important part of this story, so we need to visit this first.
I'm not exactly sure why we moved from Circle Dr in "The City" to Small Town. The first of my memories of this move were, again my Dad and I go figure, on a dark snowy night. Not really sure why we were going to the new farm house, but we were. Driving along minding our own business and Dad pulled over in the middle of nowhere, right past a small creek type bridge. I was 7 or 8 years old at the time.
"Why are we stopping Dad?"
"The car behind us just went off the road. Sit tight, stay in the truck, DO NOT get out!"
All of a sudden, Dad gets out and RUNS behind the truck. Not sure what happened at the time. But pretty soon there were fire trucks and an ambulance, more red lights than you could count. This was pre cell phone days, so I have no idea how Dad called for help, but he did. Pretty sure this is when my young mind embraced the fire service and the desire to help others. I found out a few day later what had happened. Roads were horrible, I had no idea because my Dad was a race car driver, and we were in a truck. Lady behind us lost control and went off the road right before the bridge and ended up in the water. My Dad, was waist deep in the creek holding her head above water, literally until help arrived. I didn't realize it until decades later, that this is what I would do for a living. I remember the first time I was allowed in Small Town's firetruck in a parade with my Dad driving!
Years later, as my Dad was ending his career as a Volunteer Firefighter with Small Town FD, and I was just beginning mine as a Union firefighter in Big City, it worked out that we fought a grass fire together. I was literally hanging on the back bumper of a fire truck with my Dad. Just a grass fire, but that was a highlight of my life that I will take to my grave. I was old school on the back of a fire truck with the man that taught me so much. I can still smell the smoke, the truck exhaust, the "smell" of a grass fire. Not to mention, that particular fire truck would become famous!
Shortly after this my next memories are again of my Dad. We bought an old farm house on "Peace" Rd. We actually had to use the outhouse! My Dad busted his ass to bring that farm house up to speed, and eventually we had indoor plumbing, a new second floor, and a place to call home. We soon added a garden, farm animals once pens were built, and new friends. This is where I laid the foundation of who I am now, although I didn't realize it at the time.
I soon made quick friends on the "block" which was literally 1 mile long. Mike lived next to my real grandparents, Kerry, Dan and Dave lived in between. What an adventure we were about to have.
We bought dirt bikes, built a baseball field, played war in the woods, and even built a "luge" run in the woods behind Dan & Dave's house in the winter. We explored every inch of those woods, and shot at each other with BB guns while playing "war." We learned what wrenches were for, we learned what friends were, we learned how to take care of ourselves and each other. We learned that Dad not being home simply meant that he was busting his ass at work to provide for his family.
When Dad WAS home, he was teaching us to take care of ourselves. How else would Tom Sawyer and Huck Finn learn how to hunt/fish/trap, fix tractors, build go karts, rafts and models of famous roller coasters? We worked hard, that's what we learned from our parents. We bailed hay. We bailed hay for neighbors for a small fee of $20 and a tall glass if iced tea.
We did "OK" in school, but those few hours after the homework was done is when we learned about life, and how to be good men.
I'm not exactly sure why we moved from Circle Dr in "The City" to Small Town. The first of my memories of this move were, again my Dad and I go figure, on a dark snowy night. Not really sure why we were going to the new farm house, but we were. Driving along minding our own business and Dad pulled over in the middle of nowhere, right past a small creek type bridge. I was 7 or 8 years old at the time.
"Why are we stopping Dad?"
"The car behind us just went off the road. Sit tight, stay in the truck, DO NOT get out!"
All of a sudden, Dad gets out and RUNS behind the truck. Not sure what happened at the time. But pretty soon there were fire trucks and an ambulance, more red lights than you could count. This was pre cell phone days, so I have no idea how Dad called for help, but he did. Pretty sure this is when my young mind embraced the fire service and the desire to help others. I found out a few day later what had happened. Roads were horrible, I had no idea because my Dad was a race car driver, and we were in a truck. Lady behind us lost control and went off the road right before the bridge and ended up in the water. My Dad, was waist deep in the creek holding her head above water, literally until help arrived. I didn't realize it until decades later, that this is what I would do for a living. I remember the first time I was allowed in Small Town's firetruck in a parade with my Dad driving!
Years later, as my Dad was ending his career as a Volunteer Firefighter with Small Town FD, and I was just beginning mine as a Union firefighter in Big City, it worked out that we fought a grass fire together. I was literally hanging on the back bumper of a fire truck with my Dad. Just a grass fire, but that was a highlight of my life that I will take to my grave. I was old school on the back of a fire truck with the man that taught me so much. I can still smell the smoke, the truck exhaust, the "smell" of a grass fire. Not to mention, that particular fire truck would become famous!
Shortly after this my next memories are again of my Dad. We bought an old farm house on "Peace" Rd. We actually had to use the outhouse! My Dad busted his ass to bring that farm house up to speed, and eventually we had indoor plumbing, a new second floor, and a place to call home. We soon added a garden, farm animals once pens were built, and new friends. This is where I laid the foundation of who I am now, although I didn't realize it at the time.
I soon made quick friends on the "block" which was literally 1 mile long. Mike lived next to my real grandparents, Kerry, Dan and Dave lived in between. What an adventure we were about to have.
We bought dirt bikes, built a baseball field, played war in the woods, and even built a "luge" run in the woods behind Dan & Dave's house in the winter. We explored every inch of those woods, and shot at each other with BB guns while playing "war." We learned what wrenches were for, we learned what friends were, we learned how to take care of ourselves and each other. We learned that Dad not being home simply meant that he was busting his ass at work to provide for his family.
When Dad WAS home, he was teaching us to take care of ourselves. How else would Tom Sawyer and Huck Finn learn how to hunt/fish/trap, fix tractors, build go karts, rafts and models of famous roller coasters? We worked hard, that's what we learned from our parents. We bailed hay. We bailed hay for neighbors for a small fee of $20 and a tall glass if iced tea.
We did "OK" in school, but those few hours after the homework was done is when we learned about life, and how to be good men.
Wednesday, April 22, 2015
Small Town: Dirt and Immigrants
This is the first of my Small Town Series. I'm guessing I'll have regular blogs in between these stories, as this is a loooooong tale. For that reason, I'll title these "Small Town: blah blah"
I guess I should start my Small Town series at the beginning. My earliest memories, although few, are of when we lived on "Circle" Dr in Small Town. Circle Dr was literally that, a giant circle with only two roads leading in. Well, Circle Dr was more of an oval with the long sides on the east and west. Entry roads were one to the south, and another to the west. That was a long time ago, and the memories are very few, and seem to be simple mundane things, not life events that at the time I thought would stick with me forever. It was the mid to late 1970's, I remember dressing up (Thanks Mom!) for the nation's bicentennial parade, the GIANT (It wasn't that big, we were just little) dirt pile in the vacant lot next door. That mountain of dirt got me into more trouble than almost anything I have ever encountered, until I learned how much fun girls were. "Jr, DO NOT get dirty! We're going to Grandma's for dinner. Go outside and wait for us." Yeah, that didn't quite work out in my favor. I do remember my left hand in my Mom's left hand, Dad's belt in her right hand, me running around in circles in the kitchen, and a sore ass! We literally had roads built on that dirt pile with our toy construction equipment. The local contractor made that mountain of dirt, built all these houses. We fought over who would get to be "Dave" and be in charge of the dirt pile, sometimes I won, sometimes I lost and had to be his brother "Ron". But that dirt pile was always a well functioning construction site! Had to be 1978 or 1979, "Dave" bought a new backhoe in real life. My dad who worked as a heavy equipment mechanic, brought home a model of "Dave's" new backhoe. From that day forward, on the dirt pile, I was Dave!
I remember the first time I was allowed to make a complete circuit around Circle Dr on my bike! Wow! FREEDOM! This was also the time I remember developing my own personality, and laying the foundation of a network of friends that would forever change my life, because they literally changed who I was, and who I would become. Little did we know...
A very important part of my life happened back then on Circle Dr. Friends of our family (from a time Pre-Bill) had parents living a few doors down from us. They were Immigrants from Germany. I went to visit every chance I had, I considered them my own grandparents. They were the first to teach me about my German heritage. Up until this point, my 5 year old brain thought everyone was American. They taught me about German culture, food, language. They actually taught me how my great grandparents were born in other countries, the main one being Germany. And what a difficult time it must have been for them. I really don't remember actual stories, but I do remember my German Grandparents telling me stories about their struggles to get to America. Eventually "Grandpa" wouldn't let me in the house unless I told "Grandma" Guten Tag, Guten Morgen or the appropriate response in German. "Grandma" would always tell me "Ich liebe dich" when I saw her. It wasn't until years later, when Opa told me what she was saying. Then I would reply "Ich liebe dich auch Oma" I love you too Grandma! I was too young to realize what I lost when they passed away. Sourball candies and liverwurst sandwiches. To this day I miss my "Opa" and "Oma." I loved them dearly, and now I realize how much they loved me.
My Dad worked hard. I never considered him my "father," he was just Dad. He wasn't around much in my early years, he went to work to make sure we had everything we needed. We weren't rich, we weren't poor. We got by. I'm sure there were struggles he and my mother went through, but my sister's and I never knew about them. We moved around quite a bit, Dad went where the work was. We lived in MANY places in Small Town, OH, Brunswick Oh, and Cape Coral Florida.
Brunswick OH taught me how to get what I wanted. When we moved there I owned a Z-50 Honda, when we left I owned a YZ-80 Yamaha. Dad was at work, but taught me how to use a wrench because that's what he did. I would fix dirt bikes for the neighbors, save money, trade and buy and ended up with a much newer and faster dirt bike. The only other story I remember from Brunswick was my Dad and I leaving the house on a Saturday, and leaving his stick shift Volkswagen Rabbit with Mom and my middle sister. They wanted to go shopping, but neither could drive stick shift. Dad simply said, "Jr and I have things to do, if you want to go bad enough, you're smart! You'll figure it out!" When Dad and I got home, the Rabbit had logged 1/10th of a mile. They didn't go shopping!
The next blog is going to be about my time in Florida. I came of age, had a two fantastic jobs. Probably two of the most fantastic years of my life. Those two years set me up for what really mattered. And so the story continues.....
I guess I should start my Small Town series at the beginning. My earliest memories, although few, are of when we lived on "Circle" Dr in Small Town. Circle Dr was literally that, a giant circle with only two roads leading in. Well, Circle Dr was more of an oval with the long sides on the east and west. Entry roads were one to the south, and another to the west. That was a long time ago, and the memories are very few, and seem to be simple mundane things, not life events that at the time I thought would stick with me forever. It was the mid to late 1970's, I remember dressing up (Thanks Mom!) for the nation's bicentennial parade, the GIANT (It wasn't that big, we were just little) dirt pile in the vacant lot next door. That mountain of dirt got me into more trouble than almost anything I have ever encountered, until I learned how much fun girls were. "Jr, DO NOT get dirty! We're going to Grandma's for dinner. Go outside and wait for us." Yeah, that didn't quite work out in my favor. I do remember my left hand in my Mom's left hand, Dad's belt in her right hand, me running around in circles in the kitchen, and a sore ass! We literally had roads built on that dirt pile with our toy construction equipment. The local contractor made that mountain of dirt, built all these houses. We fought over who would get to be "Dave" and be in charge of the dirt pile, sometimes I won, sometimes I lost and had to be his brother "Ron". But that dirt pile was always a well functioning construction site! Had to be 1978 or 1979, "Dave" bought a new backhoe in real life. My dad who worked as a heavy equipment mechanic, brought home a model of "Dave's" new backhoe. From that day forward, on the dirt pile, I was Dave!
I remember the first time I was allowed to make a complete circuit around Circle Dr on my bike! Wow! FREEDOM! This was also the time I remember developing my own personality, and laying the foundation of a network of friends that would forever change my life, because they literally changed who I was, and who I would become. Little did we know...
A very important part of my life happened back then on Circle Dr. Friends of our family (from a time Pre-Bill) had parents living a few doors down from us. They were Immigrants from Germany. I went to visit every chance I had, I considered them my own grandparents. They were the first to teach me about my German heritage. Up until this point, my 5 year old brain thought everyone was American. They taught me about German culture, food, language. They actually taught me how my great grandparents were born in other countries, the main one being Germany. And what a difficult time it must have been for them. I really don't remember actual stories, but I do remember my German Grandparents telling me stories about their struggles to get to America. Eventually "Grandpa" wouldn't let me in the house unless I told "Grandma" Guten Tag, Guten Morgen or the appropriate response in German. "Grandma" would always tell me "Ich liebe dich" when I saw her. It wasn't until years later, when Opa told me what she was saying. Then I would reply "Ich liebe dich auch Oma" I love you too Grandma! I was too young to realize what I lost when they passed away. Sourball candies and liverwurst sandwiches. To this day I miss my "Opa" and "Oma." I loved them dearly, and now I realize how much they loved me.
My Dad worked hard. I never considered him my "father," he was just Dad. He wasn't around much in my early years, he went to work to make sure we had everything we needed. We weren't rich, we weren't poor. We got by. I'm sure there were struggles he and my mother went through, but my sister's and I never knew about them. We moved around quite a bit, Dad went where the work was. We lived in MANY places in Small Town, OH, Brunswick Oh, and Cape Coral Florida.
Brunswick OH taught me how to get what I wanted. When we moved there I owned a Z-50 Honda, when we left I owned a YZ-80 Yamaha. Dad was at work, but taught me how to use a wrench because that's what he did. I would fix dirt bikes for the neighbors, save money, trade and buy and ended up with a much newer and faster dirt bike. The only other story I remember from Brunswick was my Dad and I leaving the house on a Saturday, and leaving his stick shift Volkswagen Rabbit with Mom and my middle sister. They wanted to go shopping, but neither could drive stick shift. Dad simply said, "Jr and I have things to do, if you want to go bad enough, you're smart! You'll figure it out!" When Dad and I got home, the Rabbit had logged 1/10th of a mile. They didn't go shopping!
The next blog is going to be about my time in Florida. I came of age, had a two fantastic jobs. Probably two of the most fantastic years of my life. Those two years set me up for what really mattered. And so the story continues.....
Sunday, April 19, 2015
Small Town
For the first time in the history of this blog, I don't have a title first. Normally I have a "thought" in mind, a theme if you will, and the Title follows. I go pick out a song to go with my blog, and the title just appears to me. Then I write. Not this time. The blog idea was brought to me by a friend, he wants me to tell a story. A long story.
While writing that fist paragraph, I came up with the title. Let's do this first:
Small Town <-- CLICK!!!
I am 45 years old now, and I live in the city. Literally half of my life has been dedicated to helping others. I've been a career firefighter since 1990, and recently attacked the world of Emergency Medicine. That's a whole different story, and not what this blog is about.
The first half of my life was quite different!
I grew up in Small Town, OHIO. I went to school and studied hard. I wasn't popular. But I wouldn't change any of it for the world.
Growing up on a farm, and having a buddy next door on a farm was never easy. Waking up 3 hours before school to go check Muskrat traps, getting the cows where they needed to be. Then off to class.
Even after school we had chores! We were "latch key kids" our parents weren't home, but we knew what had to be done, There was no alarm on our iPhone, no note from our parents, nothing. But we knew! The chores that were left for us took about 2 hours after school. Cows, tractors, and family always came first. Throw the homework down if we felt like it, but we knew there would be time later when Dad was watching the 6:00 news.
If you leave Huck Finn and Tom Sawyer to their own devices for two-three hours on a daily basis, some interesting things are going to happen! THAT is what this blog is about, and I apologize now. this story is going to be in several parts.
It seems to me now, that back then girls weren't all that important. We had snowmobiles, dune buggys, go karts. NOW they tell us that tractors are cool. We missed that!
This blog is going to be 1 our of X. I'm just going to keep typing the story of growing up in Small Town, Ohio.
You let me know when you get tired of reading..... More feedback = the longer I keep telling this story.
While writing that fist paragraph, I came up with the title. Let's do this first:
Small Town <-- CLICK!!!
I am 45 years old now, and I live in the city. Literally half of my life has been dedicated to helping others. I've been a career firefighter since 1990, and recently attacked the world of Emergency Medicine. That's a whole different story, and not what this blog is about.
The first half of my life was quite different!
I grew up in Small Town, OHIO. I went to school and studied hard. I wasn't popular. But I wouldn't change any of it for the world.
Growing up on a farm, and having a buddy next door on a farm was never easy. Waking up 3 hours before school to go check Muskrat traps, getting the cows where they needed to be. Then off to class.
Even after school we had chores! We were "latch key kids" our parents weren't home, but we knew what had to be done, There was no alarm on our iPhone, no note from our parents, nothing. But we knew! The chores that were left for us took about 2 hours after school. Cows, tractors, and family always came first. Throw the homework down if we felt like it, but we knew there would be time later when Dad was watching the 6:00 news.
If you leave Huck Finn and Tom Sawyer to their own devices for two-three hours on a daily basis, some interesting things are going to happen! THAT is what this blog is about, and I apologize now. this story is going to be in several parts.
It seems to me now, that back then girls weren't all that important. We had snowmobiles, dune buggys, go karts. NOW they tell us that tractors are cool. We missed that!
This blog is going to be 1 our of X. I'm just going to keep typing the story of growing up in Small Town, Ohio.
You let me know when you get tired of reading..... More feedback = the longer I keep telling this story.
Thursday, April 16, 2015
Here in Youngstown......
Here in Youngstown
The History of Youngstown has been a topic of conversation between my friends, coworkers and I lately, it's been a hobby of mine since I learned what history was. After some considerable thought on my part, I agree, Bruce Springsteen was right, Youngstown built cannon balls for the civil war, tanks for WWII, and everything in between. Youngstown and its suburbs were a deep, dark, dank nasty place to live. Bruce said "A little bit of everything you could have, if you played by the rules."
The #1 rule was steel.
WE BUILT STEEL. All of us.
The Mafia was in town for sure, they made the rules. The Yo was corrupt in the eyes of some, but if you played by the rules....Soot filled the skies, "Mill Dust" covered the dishes. A constant "orange glow" over the city, even in the daylight. Traffic, pedestrians, city bustle; it was horrible. According to my father: "You could not drive through downtown Stuthers at 3:00 PM because of all the workers crossing the street." We were building houses, businesses and services to accommodate the influx of people. The people that WANTED to be IN Youngstown.
Everyone had a job. Everyone had money. Crime was at an all time low, except for "Organized Crime" that was running rampant. But if you went to work, and kept your nose clean they would never mess with you. The EPA was not happy with us, but we sure were! From the guy tapping the furnace to make sure we built quality steel, to the guy at the car wash cleaning your brand new car.
The locomotive engineer hauling iron ore into town, to the jeweler building his pocket watch to make sure that ore was on time. The men and women of the train yards to make it all happen, to the seamstresses that made the uniforms. And yes, the bars that cashed the paychecks, because we all had a paycheck. And a check actually meant a man's word that the funds were there. We worked hard and we were proud. Car dealers up and down Wick Ave instead of out in Boardman. Christmas shopping on West Federal St instead of the mall. Movie theaters downtown. All roads led IN to Youngstown.
We didn't leave Youngstown because we didn't have to. We made Steel, bread, milk, cheese, ice cream, cars, electronics, trains, clothes, hospitals, and an amusement park. Right here in Youngstown.
We took care of each other. Not because we had to, but because we wanted to, it was the right thing to do. We knew our neighbor's kids and watched for them to walk home from school, we called their parents when they were goofing off a bit too much because we KNEW their parents. I got my ass beat on a regular basis because of a phone call from a neighbor. We saw them at church, and the corner store. We knew where they worked, lived and spent leisure time. We were a community.
What the hell happened? We now seem to need a psychiatric hospital (Which we had, but closed) The entire city and surrounding areas are "medicated" either from a doctor, or a dirty needle on the street corner. Depression, Anxiety, ADD, ADHD, PTSD and whatever newest "syndrome" the pharmaceutical companies can talk you into believing you have, Fibro-Mialgia so they can sell you this new drug they made but have no use for. Invent a disease to match our new drug! Everyone seems to feel "entitled" to something from someone else. You owe me!
I don't owe you a God Damn thing. If you want to know what PTSD REALLY is, just walk to your closest Fire or Police Station. ALL of these men and women can be diagnosed with PTSD, yet each and everyone of them goes to work. To help you. To help a stranger. We fight our personal demons, put them at bay, to fight your demons. We're from Youngstown, that's what we do!
Right, wrong or indifferent, None of us are Youngstown Natives, that generation has passed away a century ago. We are ALL "Imports" from other lands. But we are all here as a direct result of our grandparent's dreams and hopes. Are we living up to them? Are we striving to make Youngstown, yes I said YOUNGSTOWN, not "YO" all that it can be? For whatever reason, we are all here from different places of birth, and different cultures, but for the same purpose that I believe we lost track of.
Different cultures came together in the early 1900's to build Youngstown, Ohio. One hundred years later, we seem to be focusing on "different" instead of "culture" and destroying Youngstown.
I'm not willing to sit by and watch this city die, are you?
The History of Youngstown has been a topic of conversation between my friends, coworkers and I lately, it's been a hobby of mine since I learned what history was. After some considerable thought on my part, I agree, Bruce Springsteen was right, Youngstown built cannon balls for the civil war, tanks for WWII, and everything in between. Youngstown and its suburbs were a deep, dark, dank nasty place to live. Bruce said "A little bit of everything you could have, if you played by the rules."
The #1 rule was steel.
WE BUILT STEEL. All of us.
The Mafia was in town for sure, they made the rules. The Yo was corrupt in the eyes of some, but if you played by the rules....Soot filled the skies, "Mill Dust" covered the dishes. A constant "orange glow" over the city, even in the daylight. Traffic, pedestrians, city bustle; it was horrible. According to my father: "You could not drive through downtown Stuthers at 3:00 PM because of all the workers crossing the street." We were building houses, businesses and services to accommodate the influx of people. The people that WANTED to be IN Youngstown.
"Them smokestacks reaching like the arms of God into the beautiful skies of soot and clay.."
Everyone had a job. Everyone had money. Crime was at an all time low, except for "Organized Crime" that was running rampant. But if you went to work, and kept your nose clean they would never mess with you. The EPA was not happy with us, but we sure were! From the guy tapping the furnace to make sure we built quality steel, to the guy at the car wash cleaning your brand new car.
"Well my daddy worked them furnaces, he kept them hotter than hell..."
The locomotive engineer hauling iron ore into town, to the jeweler building his pocket watch to make sure that ore was on time. The men and women of the train yards to make it all happen, to the seamstresses that made the uniforms. And yes, the bars that cashed the paychecks, because we all had a paycheck. And a check actually meant a man's word that the funds were there. We worked hard and we were proud. Car dealers up and down Wick Ave instead of out in Boardman. Christmas shopping on West Federal St instead of the mall. Movie theaters downtown. All roads led IN to Youngstown.
"Taconite, coke and limestone fed my children...."
We didn't leave Youngstown because we didn't have to. We made Steel, bread, milk, cheese, ice cream, cars, electronics, trains, clothes, hospitals, and an amusement park. Right here in Youngstown.
We took care of each other. Not because we had to, but because we wanted to, it was the right thing to do. We knew our neighbor's kids and watched for them to walk home from school, we called their parents when they were goofing off a bit too much because we KNEW their parents. I got my ass beat on a regular basis because of a phone call from a neighbor. We saw them at church, and the corner store. We knew where they worked, lived and spent leisure time. We were a community.
"We gave our sons a 'career in Viet Nam' now we're wondering what they were dying for.."
What the hell happened? We now seem to need a psychiatric hospital (Which we had, but closed) The entire city and surrounding areas are "medicated" either from a doctor, or a dirty needle on the street corner. Depression, Anxiety, ADD, ADHD, PTSD and whatever newest "syndrome" the pharmaceutical companies can talk you into believing you have, Fibro-Mialgia so they can sell you this new drug they made but have no use for. Invent a disease to match our new drug! Everyone seems to feel "entitled" to something from someone else. You owe me!
I don't owe you a God Damn thing. If you want to know what PTSD REALLY is, just walk to your closest Fire or Police Station. ALL of these men and women can be diagnosed with PTSD, yet each and everyone of them goes to work. To help you. To help a stranger. We fight our personal demons, put them at bay, to fight your demons. We're from Youngstown, that's what we do!
Right, wrong or indifferent, None of us are Youngstown Natives, that generation has passed away a century ago. We are ALL "Imports" from other lands. But we are all here as a direct result of our grandparent's dreams and hopes. Are we living up to them? Are we striving to make Youngstown, yes I said YOUNGSTOWN, not "YO" all that it can be? For whatever reason, we are all here from different places of birth, and different cultures, but for the same purpose that I believe we lost track of.
Different cultures came together in the early 1900's to build Youngstown, Ohio. One hundred years later, we seem to be focusing on "different" instead of "culture" and destroying Youngstown.
I'm not willing to sit by and watch this city die, are you?
Friday, March 6, 2015
"Nightmare Ride" Part III
If you haven't yet, read the first 2 parts or this won't make much sense.
9 Miles From Sled-Pocalypse
The seven of us roll outta Paradise on a mission, hell bent for Curtis. Tired, my old bones are sore, and its getting darker and colder by the minute. We all know this means slower average speeds, don't drive in front of your head lights, colder temps mean slow down as well, so its going to be a longer trip home. Yeah, sure is buttercup, watch this. Bigfoot, Elvis and Sally decided to make it awesome!
I'm the lead dog, about 10.5 miles from Paradise, check my mirrors and I'm alone, safety chain is broken. FAHK! Turn around, head back for my boys. We are literally 7 miles from Paradise! It's cold, it's dark, I'm not "feeling" Paradise.
So, I turn around the correct way, I STILL have a headache from the incorrect way, I find Timmay my #2 Dog, and following the rules, we make our way backwards and rebuild the chain. Until.... WHAT? PAT is broke down! I would have bet you BIG money it was Dan! Nope, its Pat's new sled!
Damage Assessment: Broken driveshaft. FAHK.
Situational Assessment: It's COLD, and DARK. Pat is down, none of us leave until mitigation. Remember its easier to DIE out here. Was that a bear I heard?
55 miles from camp. 3 miles from the road. Map and compass come out, where are we? GOT IT. Timmay, Danny, "GO EAST AND FIND THE ROAD!" Rescue Team en route, we can make this happen! Its 7:30 PM. The normal thing to do is simply tow the broken down sled to a place the truck and trailer can get to. Take the drive belt off, hook up another sled with the tow strap, and off we all go. Turn all the sleds around, hook up to the Rent A Cat and... Nope, not this time. Usually it's an engine failure, but with a broken driveshaft, Pat's track is locked up, and it won't move. Remember the track picks from my lesson earlier? Yeah, so do we now. Pat comes up with the idea of hooking 2 sleds up since we have to literally drag it out, and the track with 5,364 picks has a hold of the ice and snow like a fat kid on a donut. Double up the tow strap, hook up Jimmy's sled AND the Rent A Cat and start dragging. It works, not well at all, but at least we're traveling towards the Rescue Team. We come up to a hill, and the tow sleds lose traction, and back to standing in the dark on the side of the trail. Ideas are flowing pretty good as our brains aren't quite frozen yet, spin Pat's sled around and try to tow it backwards, which works until the next hill. Now it becomes apparent that Jimmy's sled it melting the drive belt from all the extra work, and the whole idea is abandoned. What's worse than towing a sled out of the middle of nowhere in the middle of the night? Towing 2 of them out of nowhere in the middle of the night. Several ideas were thrown around, such as putting Pat's up on the back of another sled tow truck style, get the track up off the ground. It's already working on 9:00 PM now when we remember seeing a plastic toboggan sled thingy at the Arctic Cat dealer in Paradise. So the new plan is send the truck back up to Paradise, buy the toboggan, bring it back down to Timmay and Danny waiting at the side of the road, haul it back in to us, throw it under Pat's track and get back to towing. I like it! While waiting, I found some branches about as big around as your wrist, throw those under the track, but it didn't work. A little tweaking and it would have, but with a plan already in place, we quickly abandoned the extra work. What are we up to by now Plan "G" or "H"? Spin Pat's sled around AGAIN, get all the sleds off to the side of the trail, and we're on a pretty long straightaway so we feel relatively safe as far as oncoming traffic is concerned. Even though there really isn't any because we're the only idiots still on the trails. Sally is a whore.
Green path is us from Paradise, Rescue Team pickup spot is south of us, at the bottom of the "U"
Now there are 5 grown men standing on the side of the trail and it is SOOO quiet. No sleds, not close enough to the road to hear any cars. Out comes the dick and fart jokes, girl scout-esque ass grabbing and rabble rousing. I would expect nothing less, and would have been disappointed without it!
A short time later, we hear Timmay and Danny on the way back up the trail, hopefully with the toboggan. We weren't sure if the Arctic Cat dealer was still open, so the two options were that they were coming back according to the plan, or they were coming back to say goodbye before we died right here on the side of the trail. I have never been so happy to see a chunk of plastic before in my life!
Get the toboggan under Pat's track, and the gravity of the situation starts to sink in. We still have a hell of a ride ahead of us, and it's just after 9:00. Since we have to actually ride on the streets in Blueberry, which is 100% legal, but they do have a 10:30 shut down ordinance. We need to move some snow under these things! We're not even back to the falls yet! Pat pulls me aside and fills me in on plan "M" I think. Jimmy is gonna tow him back to the truck, load both on the trailer. We're kind of worried about Jimmy's belt. Me, Timmay, Danny, Vadim and Ed are gonna head back to Curtis from here. Not the ideal situation, but given the circumstances, I agree that that's the best choice at this point.
So off they went to meet Uncle Tim, Uncle Ed, and Erick somewhere on route 123. Unbeknownst to any of us, Sally went with them. The rest of us had a quick safety meeting, stay close, utmost importance to stay together, etc. Bundled up, and off we went.
The Nightmare Ride:
Its cold, I mean really cold. But if you're moving, the heat from the engine blows back on you and actually warms you up, a little. Too fast and the windchill takes over and you freeze. I don't know who invented hand warmers on sleds, but I'd like to give him a hug right now. Heading back through the national park, I'm aware of how easy it'd be to get lost up here. I look for landmarks, to make sure I'm heading the right way. There was some "red" snow in the park, from the soil, saw it. A stump had snow stacked on top of it, looked just like a giant mushroom. OK, we're heading the right way. So far. Lots of time to think, check mirrors, yep all 5 of us are together. Think about what we need to get my own sled up and running back home, think about how cold its getting, you can actually feel the temp dropping by the minute. Think about HEY! Wait a tick!! This was Pat's idea, and his ass is all warm and cozy riding home in the truck!! Little Bastard! Think about how there's definitely gonna be some whiskey and a beer in our future after we get back and thawed out! Already thinking about typing this story.
Made it through the power line sections, and whoop de do's and red snow in the park, so I know we're west of the falls, should be heading south soon to the drag strips north of Blueberry. HAVE to make it through Blueberry before 10:30 and I know its gonna be close. Grab a little more throttle. Nope, too much it's farghin COLD, back off a little and try to find a happy medium, need to move the snow under us, but temp and headlights force us to slow down. OK, slow and steady wins. Hit some ungroomed trails north of the drag strip sections, literally up and down, up and down, like riding a pissed off bull. Have to slow way down, costing us more time.
Finally make it to the drag strip section, and its all groomed nice and smooth! We're the first to make tracks! Giddy Up! GAHD DAMN is it flippin COLD! 60-70 MPH on the way up, now we can only do 35-40. Another time bandit. The wind was absolutely brutal, can't imagine how it was for the rest of the gang behind me. At least I didn't have snow kicked up in my face. Made it through the 4 mile section, and was actually glad to see the turns through the woods, its a half a degree warmer. Then we hit the 11 mile straight section. Shit damn, holy crap, screw this! Try to pull my head down out of the wind, between my shoulders, and think about core temp. Hell, they're only fingers and toes, I can live without a few. Even the first aid kit on my back is adding another layer of protection, and I can literally tell my back is a few degrees warmer.
Know what it means when you're the first one making tracks on a freshly groomed track? It means you're behind a groomer! We eventually caught up to him, had to wait until the trail widened out enough for us to get around, Blueberry was getting close. It HAD to be. I am SO cold, I bet the guys behind me are the same if not a little worse. Pat is in a nice warm truck. He's getting kicked in the shin when we get back.
Finally reach the trails coming into the north side of Newberry, and its decision time. Spend even more time warming up in the gas station, or do a splash and go fuel stop and keep trucking? Pull up to the gas pumps, and I'm reminded of the mini-bike in Aspen scene from Dumb & Dumber watching the gang try to stand up and get off the sleds. Oh shit, it's 10:15, I guess that answers my question, splash and go, maybe only a few minutes at best to warm up. Saddle up boys! We have 15 minutes to get outta Dodge!
South of Blueberry we ran into more ungroomed trails, BAD ungroomed, the pissed off bull's angry big brother. YES. That's all I had to stay. "You drove 10 hours to sit in a cabin?" "YES!" See how easy that is? But at least my Fraid of Missin Something spidey senses were correct, cuz I would have missed ALL DIS FUN! Pat is getting kicked in BOTH shins.
A little further south and the trails smoothed out somewhat, but the temp kept dropping. At this point it was no longer about riding, even though this was our last ride, we're leaving tomorrow. It was about Curtis Michigan. Nothing more, just reaching Curtis with all of us and our body parts intact. Finally! Finally get to trails that I recognize as being near Curtis and I know we'll be home and warm soon. Pop out of the trails onto the road, a few miles and one right turn from glory. As we're coming up the road, I see the Pine Bluff Resort sign, what a ride. Check behind us, all sleds are still in a group, no cars coming, check in front, one car coming. Puts its turn signal on, turns into our resort just ahead of me. Its the idiots in the Rescue Truck!!! Paradise is just over an hour drive, and I know we've been riding for at least twice that long. Those mother hunchers went to a bar!!! Not only rode home in a nice warm truck, but stop at a bar while we're freezing to death? OK, no more kicks in the shin, as soon as I thaw out enough someone is getting throat punched!
I follow the truck to our cabin, and notice the trailer lights aren't working right. WTF? I spent an hour fixing those right before we left! We all pull up to the cabin, pull my frozen ass off the sled, someone is getting a boot thrown at them! Uncle Tim, Uncle Ed, Erick, Pat and Jimmy get out of the truck, and they look as frazzled and beat as we do! And I noticed all the sleds seem jostled around on the trailer. "What the hell happened?" "I would rather have been with you!" We all go into the cabin where it's warm and then the stories start. It's now approaching midnight.
Evidently during the ride home in the truck, Sally kicked the trailer off the hitch! Crash, Boom, Bang, Uncle Tim showing off his driving skills, and luckily kept the trailer mostly behind them, with everyone safe and only minor damage to the truck and trailer! Had to stop in Newberry to buy a new hitch, and no one was open. Random stranger pulls into the gas station, with the correct hitch on his truck, "Hey buddy. You're not leaving the parking lot with that hitch. How much?" $42 later, and some bungee cords later, they were back on the road. A little gun shy, but back on the road. I'm certain there's way more to it, but I wasn't there so I can only embellish, maybe we can talk Pat into telling us more on that part of the story.
No words were needed or exchanged, Pat simply walked over, got glasses down, and Jack Daniels and started passing out drinks. Good friends, safe and sound, thawing out, each with our own version of the night's happenings. Sore, beaten, bruised and tired. Literally it was difficult to hold my head up because my neck was so sore from the ride. I didn't sign up for this, and if that's what riding is about, I'm out and would be happy to never have my ass on a sled again.
"Billy, Billy, Billy!"
"What." Thinking again I should have said Yes and stayed home this morning.
"You coming back next year?"
"HELL YES!!!"
Tuesday, March 3, 2015
"The Nightmare Ride" Part II
So as my headache and I were heading back north to meet up with the rest of the gang, I decided that Elvis tripped me and Bigfoot hit me in the back of the head with the 2 X 4. Sally was there too. They were all playing go fish and smoking cigars.
Safety chain back intact, northbound and down on another 4 mile drag strip. At this point I have no idea where we're going but we're making damn good time! Speeds of about 70 MPH at times with an average speed of 45 or so. Sunshine, snow and beautiful scenery. Heading for the falls. I thought "the falls" were water falls along side the trail we were going to stop at. Nope, its actually Tahquamenon Falls State Park. So another 20 or so miles up the trail:
Safety chain back intact, northbound and down on another 4 mile drag strip. At this point I have no idea where we're going but we're making damn good time! Speeds of about 70 MPH at times with an average speed of 45 or so. Sunshine, snow and beautiful scenery. Heading for the falls. I thought "the falls" were water falls along side the trail we were going to stop at. Nope, its actually Tahquamenon Falls State Park. So another 20 or so miles up the trail:
This place! Rescue crew met us via actual roads, and we all sat down and told stories and had a nice dinner.
Little did we know we were a mere 18 miles from a disaster of epic proportions, one that would affect everyone of us. Last time we bought fuel was in Blueberry, Timmy says it's only 8 miles to Paradise, so we all decided it would be best to add the miles to the trip, fuel up and head home. As we were leaving The Falls, it was about dusk, but still plenty of light left in the sky, but the temperature was starting to fall, we were back down to about 10* and we were all bundling up good and tight for the anticipated falling temps on the ride home. Rescue Team was heading to Paradise to say hello to an old friend who lived there, and we would all meet back at camp at around 10:00. It was now 6:30. Turns out the trip to Paradise was closer to 10 miles, but nice trails along the power lines, and again not a bad ride at all. Definitely getting colder, and seeing less and less sled traffic on the trails, the smart ones were calling it a night and going home. Not us!
We made it to Paradise, and I can say the only thing Paradise-like about it is the sign that reads Welcome to Paradise. They have an Arctic Cat dealer/gas station, a few motels and a blinking light at their only intersection. We fuel up at the Arctic Cat dealer, guy bought some gear as the prices were end-of-season sale. Met up with the Rescue Team to drop off the new gear, and headed south outta Paradise as the sun was setting.
9 Miles From Sled-Pocalypse
The seven of us roll outta Paradise on a mission, hell bent for Curtis. Tired, my old bones are sore, and its getting darker and colder by the minute. We all know this means slower average speeds, don't drive in front of your head lights, colder temps mean slow down as well, so its going to be a longer trip home. Yeah, sure is buttercup, watch this. Bigfoot, Elvis and Sally decided to make it awesome!
I'm the lead dog, about 10.5 miles from Paradise, check my mirrors and I'm alone, safety chain is broken.
.... to be cont....
Monday, March 2, 2015
"The Nightmare Ride" Part I
This story will most likely end up being lengthy, I hope you have the tenacity to stay with me to the end, trust me, its EPIC. I'm certain that in the months and years to come as this story gets told and retold, that the temperature will drop, bears and moose will be added, as well as other things we haven't thought of yet, but as for now the story you are about to read is 100% truth. I made maps that will be added, so you the reader can put it all into perspective.
A little background first. 10 guys from Ohio in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan for a long weekend of riding snowmobiles, and gaining material to tell stories. We had NO idea...
The Nightmare Ride story actually started out several days before the ride actually occurred. Once we arrived in The UP Pat was pushing us all to ride, ride, ride, and ride some more. All of us were about riding, but Pat wanted a long trip. "Let's go to Sault Ste Marie tomorrow!" Ummmm.... Several of wanted to stay close to camp, and ride local trails, play on the hills. Still riding our asses off, but closer to camp, play on the lake, hit a few trails that were close, within "DAMN IT'S COLD, I'm going to the cabin for 10 minutes" distance. Nope, not Pat, he wanted long distance exploration! His inner Pirate was showing! I perfectly understood his perspective, as he just bought a "new" used sled specifically for this trip. I'd want to ride too!
Febrary 27, 2015
The night before:
We ran from our base camp located near Curtis all the way up to Newberry. Someone thought it would be a good idea to have ME lead. I've been riding my entire life, but I have never been this far north, let alone on these trails. I had my map and compass though, let's ride!
Made 2 wrong turns, cost us some time, made it to Newberry in 2 hours or so. Fueled up and the group decided to head back home due to tiredness and temperature. We made it home in 40 minutes. Wait, what? 40 minutes. OK, Newberry isn't all that far via trails, maybe Pat has some validity in his trip argument.
Our ride is highlighted in green.
A little background first. 10 guys from Ohio in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan for a long weekend of riding snowmobiles, and gaining material to tell stories. We had NO idea...
The Nightmare Ride story actually started out several days before the ride actually occurred. Once we arrived in The UP Pat was pushing us all to ride, ride, ride, and ride some more. All of us were about riding, but Pat wanted a long trip. "Let's go to Sault Ste Marie tomorrow!" Ummmm.... Several of wanted to stay close to camp, and ride local trails, play on the hills. Still riding our asses off, but closer to camp, play on the lake, hit a few trails that were close, within "DAMN IT'S COLD, I'm going to the cabin for 10 minutes" distance. Nope, not Pat, he wanted long distance exploration! His inner Pirate was showing! I perfectly understood his perspective, as he just bought a "new" used sled specifically for this trip. I'd want to ride too!
Febrary 27, 2015
The night before:
We ran from our base camp located near Curtis all the way up to Newberry. Someone thought it would be a good idea to have ME lead. I've been riding my entire life, but I have never been this far north, let alone on these trails. I had my map and compass though, let's ride!
Made 2 wrong turns, cost us some time, made it to Newberry in 2 hours or so. Fueled up and the group decided to head back home due to tiredness and temperature. We made it home in 40 minutes. Wait, what? 40 minutes. OK, Newberry isn't all that far via trails, maybe Pat has some validity in his trip argument.
Our ride is highlighted in green.
So later that night, after some arguing it was "decided" that tomorrow's trip would be from camp to Paradise and back, with a stop at Tahquamenon Falls State Park for a warm up and dinner. I was sore from today's ride to Newberry and back, haven't ridden this hard since I was a kid. So my plans were to help the gang get rolling then hang back, go play on the lake, hit some local trails and take it a bit easy.
February 28, 2015:
With "the plan" in place, we all woke up at staggering times according to our internal clocks. We all wanted to get an early start as we had a long ride planned and it's much warmer during the day. This is when things started going awry. Not enough to throw in the towel, not even enough to suspect a hint of things going bad. Just a late start, nothing more. I woke up around 05:00 and made some coffee. Once the cabin came to life around 09:30, I went outside and started all the sleds and got them pointing in the right direction while everyone was getting their riding gear on. Except the Ole 440 that Uncle Ed loaned me for the weekend, as I wasn't planning on going on this trip. In passing, I mention to Pat "You guys are all set, who's leading? Timmy?" "No, you are." "I'm not going with you guys, just gonna hang around here."
"You drove 10 hours to sit in a cabin??? ARE YOU KIDDING ME???" At this moment in time, a pure and simple YES would have made my life so, so very much easier. I felt the word yes coming out of my mouth, but then FMS syndrome set in. "'Fraid of Missing Something." As I was saying "YES", the smell of 2 stroke exhaust from the running sleds wafted in, the sight of the boys gearing up, my brain said "Yes", but I became keenly aware of my senses and I actually heard myself say "Yeeeaaah, gimme 10 minutes to get ready." I immediately thought don't let your mouth right checks that your ass can't cash. So sore and tired. Well, I said it, I'm in now. With the gang ready to roll, it was decided that we'd ride to "Blueberry" again, and refuel, and see how things were, with the plan of hitting Paradise and back before nightfall. 150+ miles ahead of us. The time was 11:15 AM, and off we rode. Myself, Timmy, Danny, Ed, Vadim, Jimmy, and Pat. Seven sleds on a mission. Stopped in Curtis to top off fuel, and then Ride Sally Ride, even though Sally wasn't with us, and none of us actually knew anyone named Sally.
The ride to Blueberry started off enjoyable and seemed quick. Sunshine in my face, even though it was only 10* it seemed warm, last time we rode it was -10*. I knew where we were going, I had good friends behind me, Youngstown was the furthest thing from my mind. I'd never been north of Blueberry, but I had my map and my compass and felt confident with the team behind me. Thinking about my father and all the miles we put on the snowmobiles in my youth. Beautiful scenery, and all in all a fantastic ride. Then Dan broke down. Almost expected, so no red flags yet. Quick fix, minor delay and we were off and running again. Just south of Blueberry, Dan broke down again. Big time electrical issues. Only 7 out of 10 of us on this trip, so we had a backup sled at camp for him, if we're gonna do this, let's call in the Rescue Team now to meet us in Blueberry and exchange sleds. Towed Dan a few miles to Blueberry, It's actually NEWberry, but Vadim called it Blueberry, so I'm going with it.
Refueled in Blueberry, Rescue Team met us and got Danny a running sled. Team meeting, 14* everyone is feeling good, off to Tahquamenon Falls it is!!! Has anyone seen Sally? RIDE! At this point, I'm getting concerned. Not concerned about The Nightmare Ride that was looming in our future, we had no idea what was coming. I was concerned about me leading on a 20 year old sled, in places I had never seen before. I had my first-aid kit backpack on, a map, a compass, and gorgeous Upper Peninsula Michigan wilderness in front of me, and the best friends I've ever had behind me. Giddy Up! As you leave Blueberry to the north, there's an actual display of a mangled sled with a sign that reads Ride Safe! At this point, we had already passed several "Death Crosses" on the trails, and it starts to hit me.
We are in the fahking wilderness, 35 miles from civilization. It's easier to die out here than it is to live.
So off we ride, I'm leading, "Little Bastard" is at the end. There are certain rules you follow when you're out here because it's really easy to die and end up on the Discovery Channel. Donner, Party of 12. There's a chain of us 7, check behind you, if no one is behind you stop. If you're the lead dog and no one is behind you, turn around, go pick up the second dog, you both go pick up the third dog, etc until you're chain is all back together. Safety in numbers, literally.
We leave Blueberry to the north, again our trail is highlighted in green:
Once we get North of Blueberry, I am reminded of Super Mario's different worlds. Ditch Banging "woods" up to this point, and then holy hell. The slowest sled leading, at the approach of an 11 mile drag strip! ANYONE that knows me, knows what's about to happen!! My throttle thumb got tired!!
After the 11 mile drag strip, I saw this:
Now this is exactly what I grew up on, "Ditch Banging" and I wasn't about to pass this by. So I decided to stop for a play session, stretch the legs etc. This is the exact moment we should have turned around!
I had a "broken chain" so I headed back south to find Eddie and Pat. I passed them, so all was good. I needed to turn around, and got lazy. I didn't feel like dragging the Ole 440 again, so I decided to try a brake slide turn. Full throttle, slam the brakes and turn left! Sled is supposed to spin around approximately 180*. I forgot about the ice picks on the track. It spun according to my intentions, but only about 30* until the picks dug in and stopped the sled. In an instant I was on the ground, felt like someone hit me in the back of the head with a 2 X 4, and the Ole 440 was "Mmmm mmmm mmm" coasting past me. OUCH!!!! But I'm OK, go back to original plan, dragged her around and headed back north with an incredible headache.
Wednesday, January 28, 2015
Haley Mae
I know I've already used this song, but I can't change, I can't change, I can't change....
Haley Mae was about 6 hours old when I met her today. Yeah, she can change, she can change!
Haley Mae
I hope her parents find this somehow. A basic, A Medic, and 4 nurses took her on a little ride in an ambulance. I've been on this planet for 45 years, she was here for 6 hours, and I was the one that was chosen to send this little girl along her voyage.
Flu like symptoms, toe pain. Cut finger. General weakness. I think I'm gonna have a seizure.
100 times, you don't make a difference.
Then you meet Haley Mae, and that's WHY you do this!
Haley Mae was about 6 hours old when I met her today. Yeah, she can change, she can change!
Haley Mae
I hope her parents find this somehow. A basic, A Medic, and 4 nurses took her on a little ride in an ambulance. I've been on this planet for 45 years, she was here for 6 hours, and I was the one that was chosen to send this little girl along her voyage.
Flu like symptoms, toe pain. Cut finger. General weakness. I think I'm gonna have a seizure.
100 times, you don't make a difference.
Then you meet Haley Mae, and that's WHY you do this!
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