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A Letter from Tom Preble

  When thinking of cars, I understand the "transportation only" relationship many have with their vehicles.  For me, even if they're a bit ratty looking, my cars are mechanically babied.  Partly practical Ben Franklin: "A stitch in time saves nine" consideration and partly because I grok machines- the motorhead in me keeps em' up very well.  Of course this means we have a car ( the ancient Civic) with over 250,000 miles that never has had engine work more major than periodic timing belt/ water pump/ alternator renewal, burns no oil and runs like a rocket but looks like an alligator from 20 years of weathering!  Friends have told me: "Tom, you don't have to use a car completely UP, you know.  It's okay to get a new (er) one!" - How to justify such a (practically speaking) needless upgrade?

Our son Tyler will be 17 in 10 days.  He ran his car out of gas last week and got a nice lesson too.  Ty, as you may recall is the lad from the "Ty's first fourteener" story.  His new "Indian name" is He-Who-Hikes-With-Gas-Can.

****************************Nov. 30th 2002************                                                        

I have just returned from Illinois.  In Illinois is found my old high school chum, now farmer, Scott and his dad.  I went there to visit with my old Dodge Cummins diesel pickup and flat bed trailer in tow.  Scott and I laid a dead 100 foot tall, 150 year old oak tree low during my visit.  Had to pull it proper with his backhoe so it wouldn't whack the house.  That old Illinois oak is now home in Colorado and blocked, salami style.  Its outside waiting in truck and trailer for my shoulders and the maul.

Thanksgiving dinner was had with Scott and his dad at the Barrington Hills Country Club.  Duck, pheasant, tenderloin and squab were just some of the choices.  (Squab is pigeon, can you believe that?) Of course turkey was served as well.  There was live music and an ice turkey 3 feet tall.  Any libation you could imagine was available.  Leaving for Colorado that night I, alas, restricted myself to Coke.  

It had been a week of contrasts.  Working with Scott the taciturn farmer felling and cutting oak firewood and yes, I had to replace the old Dodge's water pump upon my arrival in Barrington.  Taking a day trip to Chicago and the Sears Tower and then Thanksgiving at the country club.  (Real whipped cream.  There was real whipped cream on the delicious pumpkin pie!)

I actually loved Chicago.  The people, the neighborhoods, the river and trains.  At the Sears Tower, security has tightened up since 9-11.  The security men wore navy blue windbreakers with "Sears Tower" emblazoned over the right chest.  One of these security men was about 6'6" and 300 pounds.  I asked him about his Sears Tower jacket: "Is that who you work for -or just your nickname?"  What a view from the top!  It was clear over Chicago that day and I could see for miles.  Buildings, rail yards, bridges, Lake Michigan.  I looked west, but strain as I might, I couldn't see Colorado.  I began thinking of going home.

You might think it odd that I spent Thanksgiving away from home.  Well, Ilene doesn't care for the forced fervor of the holidays or for car trips but she does love firewood.  Seriously.  A good stack of firewood puts a huge smile on that woman's entire being ...  And we don't have oak in Colorado.  I figure I drove home with 3 cords of serious spousal goodwill in tow.

I'm pleased to have pulled it off.  There were no serious mechanical breakdowns beyond the water pump and blowing a trailer tire in Lincoln. Dancing between the snowflakes, I made it home last night.  Whether a bowline around the backhoe bucket or a Windsor knot before dinner - a "ready for anything" sense of adventure pervaded the week.  Good to be home.

We don't do any big holiday deal, but we do one kinda cool thing.  We decorate one little tree with lights.  The gravel road is one quarter mile away down the driveway and this tree is closest to the road.  At night when the house is dark, that one little tree lighted in the darkness is all anyone driving by can see in the pitch black - for miles in all directions.  I've had neighbors comment on it.  A lone tiny cone of colored lights so small and far away, isolated and cheerful.

Well, I've wood to unload and chores to do. 

Whoof!

Tom

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