Wow…what a mess. Five blog sites, two platforms, a mix of themes and topics. I think I’ll stick to this site for anything but experimental work. I never got to blog about it but I ended up selling my firetruck sometime late in 2010. I guess it’s like when you think its a good idea to adopt that stray mountain lion kitten and realize, after awhile, it’s not really practical. That’s what my wife felt like. Except she never thought it was a good idea. Plus I kept forgetting to turn off the fuel pump and flooded the engine with fuel three times. (yes, this vehicle has a fuel pump that turns on separately from the ignition).
The guy that bought it, a handyman who lives in the country, thought it was would be a good idea to have an antique firetruck — see, he has twin 3-year old boys and figured they’d have all kinds of fun with it. I made sure he had informed his spouse before committing to it. I had to get a flatbed truck to pick it and deliver it the 50 km distance in the country. He arrived late on a rainy Saturday near dinner time. I followed him for the journey, feeling quite sad to see her go. She looked graceful but awkward riding on the back of the flatbed — perhaps even somewhat embarassed.
At the end of the country road, in the pouring rain, I met with the new owner and we let the pumper slide onto the road where a tractor was waiting to pull it up the driveway to his home. As we rounded the corner and arrived at the front porch of the wood-framed home, a woman stood with two smalls boys clutching her skirt. Their father beamed “Look guys! It’s a firetruck!” He asked if I could sound the siren. I press my foot down on the pedal and pumped and the siren let out a wail. The children blocked their ears and began to cry. Good luck, I thought, to all.
He gave me cash and brought me back to the trucker so I could pay for the tow job then bade me goodnight. I climbed up to the passenger window of the immense Freightliner and paid the driver. I thanked him for his services and stepped back onto the lower step of the truck. Then realized there is no lower step.
I landed hard on my back with my head hitting the hard, cold muddy ground. I struggled to stay conscious as I realized that a good part of my body was beneath the cab and the driver, not knowing that I fell, was revving the engine and getting ready to put his vehicle into gear.
I scrambled and cleared the underside with barely a few seconds to spare. I sat in the mud for a few moments, contemplating how close I had come to losing the use of my lower body (at best) — it put my sadness over losing the firetruck into perspective. Yet another left turn, averted that night.