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The Blues, and a Ford Machine

28.11.11

While living in Idaho, I decided that I needed a pickup truck. My passenger vehicle, a Volks Rabbit that used diesel fuel, was a plus in the coolness factor, but during the winter, the fuel would gel and I would have to walk to work. That wasn't terribly unpleasant, to me: I rather enjoyed getting up in the morning, putting on my Sorels, and walking over the shallow snow on the railroad tracks from my apartment to the lumber yard, where I had found a winter job. But we moved into a house, which had a woodstove, and I would need to gather firewood. Also, it expanded what I could do in my construction jobs. I wasn't very experienced, and I had been given a lot of really tough assignments. I shoveled fist-sized gravel for weeks. I used a jack hammer to remove fifteen patio slabs that had settled and cracked. Two other men and I were assigned a mountain of construction lumber, and told to remove all the nails. It was dangerous, but we took an idiotic pleasure

Source: Salon (blog)