The New House!

Well, big changes are happening, and have been happening.   With me working full time on an excavation near Queen Creek, AZ,   working on my masters,  and the simple fact the heat drains all desire and energy from everyone, my posts here have been few and far between.

Kathryn and I were officially married on July 18th in Missoula, Montana, surrounded by our friends and families.   Our daughter Juniper is going to turn 1 in a little over a month,  and it is time for another change.


As such, I give you,  the Overland!


Back in February, we were visiting the Arizona Renaissance Festival, and I made the comment to Kathryn  "Wouldn't it be nice to just quit being an adult and follow the Ren faire?  Buy a camper and do the gypsy thing?




Kathryn said "Yes", and took far more initiative than I did.     But,  it does make perfect sense.    Being an Archaeologist,  the majority of my work are temporary projects that rove the country.  These projects can last for a week,  they can last for a year.    Luckily, the project I am on now is located 20 miles from our apartment.   But once it is over,  there are chances that I won't land another project in Phoenix,  and I will have to travel.   It is difficult for me to do that and leave my girls.   Having grown up in a home where my father was often away for work,  I have this desire to not emulate that.

So,  Kathryn and I discussed it at length.    In Arizona, it is easy to live in an RV.   Snowbirds do it all the time.     Why can't we?   It is essentially a Tiny House.  It would be our space,  and for RV lot rent with hookups and septic is an eighth of the cost of the rent we are paying now.    Seeing as financial freedom is something we want to achieve,  it would be helpful to pay on debts and keep ahead of our bills and put money into savings instead of dropping easily half of one's monthly pay on a place we don't much care for.  Yes, space will be at a premium,  but it is good to cleanse of the debris we all seem to collect.

So, two days before we left for Montana and our wedding,  Kathryn found and we checked out this..a 1985 Overland by Mallard.     33' of Class A motorhome with a Chevrolet 454 Big Block  and GM drivetrain.     It is in pretty fair shape,  but does need some work.     We purchased it free and clear,  then left it parked until we returned from Montana.


Now that we have returned,  we are able to go into it further.   It failed emissions,  which is probably because of bad gas and the "tune up in a can"  that I dumped in along with 5 gals of premium octane.
It also got a little warm,  and needs a complete cooling system flush and new rad cap.   Plugs, wires,  cap and rotor are all on the list.    I can do everything save for the flush (don't have a place to do it)  and the service of the Engine AC,  which i am sure is out of oil and is what is causing the screaming.

  We plan on taking out the folding couch bed because it, well, is gross,  and replacing it with a wooden bench with under seat storage,   The rotating chairs, Kathryn plans on cleaning and reupholstering,

The microwave does not work,  so it will get tossed and replaced with additional shelving.   The stove, fridge and water heater all run on LPG or Generator/battery/plug in.   We are planing solar panels to, at very least,  supplement the energy needs.    At the moment,  there are no deep cycle RV batteries in the Overland,  and we will need to get the wiring hookups for the batteries set up.

We will call someone for that.

The stove will get pulled as well, and we hope to replace it with a range top only,   opening more space within the kitchen.

Paint....for the love of the gods,  we need to paint...

The crappy tile stuff on the floor will be stripped out and replaced,  in my mind,  with laminate flooring.   Bamboo or something.     We are endeavoring to do this project as sustainable as possible, using recycled or reclaimed building supplies.   There is a large RV scrap yard here in PHX,  and we plan on making many trips.    Unfortunately,  the RV's generator is long gone,  and we will need to replace it.    I am going to get really good with electrical, I think.




















We will be getting a tow dolly or trailer for the 4Runner.   Due to my job,  I will need to go places that the Nissan would not be able to do.   Kathryn will drive the Nissan with the baby,  as there are no places in an RV to strap down a child seat.

But,   as it is,   We have a new House!    The Family is super excited,  and this new adventure is to be a good one.

A thought process, that has nothing to do with cars.

But has a fuck ton to do with common sense.    Forgive the profanity,  this entry will be full of it.   If that is a problem,  excercise your right to not be around and go elsewhere.   If  cold truth hurts,   well,  I don't want to tell you anything anyway.     I am not going to pull any punches here.  I am going to be blunt,   and I am going to be clear as a cold mountain stream.  


Ye been warned.

So.....I guess over the last two weeks,  my Alma matter, the U of M,  has had 3 deaths either on or associated with campus.  One suicide,  one (i believe)  sickness, and one fatal shooting.  

The  shooting is what is causing this rant.    

Right off the bat, I am going to state that, Yes, I am a gun owner.    I have a selection of firearms in my ownership and possession,  to which this automatically gives people the right to judge me for whatever their reason.  Good or Bad.    But I want to put that out there.  Someone will flip their shit and call this blog a "Hippy gun hater liberal fuckhead"  sort of writing.    This is my disclaimer.    I HAVE GUNS.  It is my right, and my (watch out,  big word coming) RESPONSIBILITY.      I shoot bambi and thumper and whatever disney moose people can remember because they are damn tasty, and it is to feed my family.   You want to argue with that, well fuck off, this has nothing to do with hunting.  

It has everything to do with fucking common sense and gun fucking safety.

The kid who "got shot".  A horrible accident.   Apparently,  he was at a house party (by the way,  booze is usually at house parties),  when out came a firearm for inspection and show and tell.    

Rule Number One:   Booze/guns/people you don't know  are a bad fucking idea.   That is the first thing that  you see in hunter's safety as a kid.   DO NOT DRINK AND HANDLE GUNS.    You aren't supposed to drive or fly or practice medicine all boozy either.

Rule Number Two.   THis is to the asshole who brought the gun out to show his friends.   Why was it fucking loaded?    Why was it not cleared of rounds before it was passed around?    Why did you need to show it off?   Handling guns give you a chubby dick?  Show you are a man?   Worse, are you trying to intimidate someone?    The kid who brought this gun out is 50% responsible for his friend's death,  right off the bat for even introducing the gun to the situation in the first place.

Rule Number Three:    When you aim a gun,  you commit to shooting the target.    This is final and applies to all guns.

OK...Apparently,  the kid who shot himself took the gun into his own hands, looked at his girlfriend,  and told her that if she ever left him, he would do this *placed gun to head and pulled trigger*

End of Story.   Now single girl gets to wipe brain matter off her face and live the rest of her life seeing her boyfriend commit suicide in front of her.

What the fuck.    Seriously, WHAT.THE.FUCK?    What in Sam fucking Hell did this kid think was going to happen?  the gun go click?   What the fuck...

Here is why I am all "WHAT THE FUCK".    My ENTIRE life  i have been exposed to guns.   My father has a good number of them.   From the moment I was old enough to concieve the purpose of a firearm,   I have been living by the rule  CONSIDER A GUN TO ALWAYS BE LOADED, EVEN IF IT IS NOT.    Always.      This is not a crazy notion,  is it?   You can drop the mag and eject the rounds and make sure the gun is completely dry, and you  don't think that putting it to your head is ok.   You don't look down the barrel of a gun you dont know,  certainly.

And this,  this was fucking doctrine for everything.   Squirt Guns.  Nerf Guns,  Rubber Band Guns.   BB guns.  ALWAYS TREAT THE GUN AS IF IT WAS LOADED.  NEVER POINT THE GUN UNLESS YOU MEAN TO ENGAGE THE TARGET.

Seems like common god damn sense.    But it isn't.  That is the problem.   The gun is not the problem.   It is the operator.   It is the people.    Kid one who brought out the gun should have cleared it.   He made a mistake.   He handed his friend a dangerous tool.    The kid who mishandled the gun and shot himself.....well,  he's dead.  Can't get more final than that.

And now, the real tragedy is that people are losing their shit over this.   Its a tragedy,   he was so young,  guns are bad,   gun nuts are everything wrong with the world,  liberals and hippies are going to take our guns away.  Blah blah blah.  


The kid who brought the gun to the party should be punished.    Reckless endangerment.    He failed to do his part and make sure the gun was completely damn empty.
The kid who is dead,  well,  he's dead.   Learned not to point a gun at himself the hard way.

This is the problem.  Irresponsible behavior, and no accountability.    Guns,  as I was growing up,  were always a big deal.   It was an honor, It was a privilege,  it was my father's trust in me, and all the things he taught me.      The gun was just the tool.    The rest,  far more important.  I got my first gun and it was a big fucking deal.   Like my first car and license.    BIG DEAL, BIG RESPONSIBILITY.   IF I SCREW UP, I LOSE THE PRIVILEGE.

Today,  kids are given things for the sake of having things.   They don't have to work for it, they don't have to honor it or be responsible to it.  The dead kid was like 19.    He was a kid,  dont care how you slice it.   He should have known better.   An accident?  Not at all.   Gross negligence?  

Damn Right.  

Honest Trucks.

Well, it has been a good long while since I have posted anything at all online,  let alone in my blog.   Kinda terrible at it.  LOL  that said,  I figured I would come back with a topic that has been on my mind in recent months.  And that,  is my Honest Truck.

Blame it on a number of things: Roadkill on youtube,  any number of articles on TRUCK YEAH/Jalopnik,  the simple insane pace of life down here in Arizona.   I'm in Mesa,  which really is now just Phoenix East.   Its a city.   No animals other than pitbulls and pigeons,  asphalt and concrete and crappy drivers, etc etc etc... I could go on, frankly.   But no one gots time fo dat.    It all comes back, in the way my brain works,  to my Honest Truck.

Or Trucks.   I have two, both of which I love.
Number one is my 97 Toyota 4Runner.    It is a happy, go lucky little 4x4 that has gone everywhere (all 2 places) I have taken it with ease.   In fact,  I think it is happier on dirt than on pavement.   I must say that I agree with this notion.   Driving to and from the dig site I was working this fall, and up to the top of the nearby mountain was a lovely time,  the little toyota eagerly and nimbly going up and down the road like a happy coyote on the trail.   Its wagon body really is perfect for what I need,  its a perfect platform for a daily driver/overlander.  The 3.4 liter engine is efficient, makes good power and speed.  The ground clearance is great in stock form, especially now that I have replaced the rear coil springs.   The truck has 245K miles on it,  and shows no sign of stopping.   So much so that I will be replacing the motor with a reman unit the moment it dies.   This truck is so very good that I have no intent to be rid of it.   I couldn't replace it for what I paid for it,    and It is still superior in my mind than anything newer.   Namely, because I can fix it in the field if need be.

This brings me to my second, and the one that is truly my favorite.   The 1983 Dodge Power ram, swb with a stepside bed and a slant six engine that I have owned for 13 years.  Even though it has given me trouble (my fault for not just flushing the fuel tank), is not highway friendly (65mph at the most) and is a single cab, so rather small,   I have not gotten rid of it.   I have considered it for sure,  but I have also thought about tattooing my face.

Neither will happen.

My Dodge is another honest,  delightful old truck.   The toyota is an automatic,  electric windows and AC.  The dodge is all carburetors and crank windows,  with a simple bench,  factory stereo delete,  ex Forest Service truck with a torque monster 225 ci "Slant" six engine,  4 speed with granny low manual, and 4:10 gears.   It has ten moving parts from tip to tail,  is that awful-ly unique Forest Service green,  and is about as refined as a WW2 Bomber.   And I can't put into words how much I love it.

I am, however,  missing it terribly.  It is not the most feesible truck to drive around here in Mesa,  would be too slow on the interstate,  and cant carry me, the wife, the dogs and the baby like the toyota can.   So,  I left it back home in Montana,   parked in the barn with mothballs on the floor and on top of the motor,  a tarp covering it from the pigeon shit,  and several bottles of seafoam in the fuel tank. And there she sits.   She has been sitting since april,   and no one has paid her any mind until last weekend,  when the family and I went back to Montana for a whirlwind 3 day visit.   For the briefest amount of time, I was able to extract myself from relatives and banter to go out to the barn to see my poor old truck.   Hooked up the battery,  pushed in the clutch, and turned the key.

And she started.      Runs rough as hell,  with the bad gas and all,  but she runs.     i wasnt able to take her out for a drive,   due to 4 bald tires and the roads coated in ice,   but I was able to enjoy the sweet roar of that old six,   feel the truck hum and vibrate on its worn springs,  the cheerful rattle of the things in the bed.   And it just made me happy.       What is the point of buying a new car or truck?   they are nice, sure.   The mileage is better,  they go faster,  are more comfortable.....  but I just don't trust them.....I dont trust things I can't touch.   You can't fix a motor in a new Dodge unless you hook it to a laptop first.  You can't listen for a moment and know what is wrong.   There are too many things to fail.  And for what?  a car-like ride and a boost to your testicles?
   I find old trucks the best.   They are happier, more fun.   Less rat race,  more adventure.    I would so much rather have something older that I can fix than not.   Both my trucks,  mind you are also paid off,   are really quite perfect.

A simple word for a simple machine.   And its often the most simple machines that have the most complicated souls.

Back from the Non-internets

Tonight, on Aggressive Tread....

I eat some lettuce...
Adak eats a bunny at work....
And we come back from a long hiatus...



Seriously, that is the truth...I am, as I write this, eating lettuce.  Felt the need for greens and something not related to wheat, at all.    And Adak did get a bunny at work.... And summer has been crazy....
But Enough of that!  I HAVE LETTUCE!

Hell Yeah.

Anyway, It has been a while since my last post here on Aggro Tread,  mostly because I have been busy and not terribly in a creative mood to bring you all sorts of automotive wittiness.  Lots of stuff to recap, not the least of which is the new job.  YES, I finally have one in this town of no work.  And great thing is, I get to work with cars!   WOO.    Seriously...I get to pick them up with a giant forklift loader machine and carry them around.    This is seriously an 8 year olds dream job.   Is it mine?   Well......no....lets be realistic.  I am an archaeologist at heart and in training, and being the yard manager at an auto insurance yard is fun,  but not my calling.   And I can't buy anything there...which sucks balls...but that could be a good thing, seeing as I would be forever broke if I could.

Tonight, In this Blog Post....

I graduate with a degree...
Justin gets a new set of wheels...
And an airplane is found in some sand..



There should be some sort of music intro while you all are reading this first bit.   Think, if you will,   Jeremy Clarkson's voice reading it aloud.    Honestly, I stole that style of intro from Top Gear...

Anyway....

So, yes,  tis an official thing now:  I am a graduate of the University of Montana, with my Bachelor's degree in Anthropology,  Archaeology subfield.   I can wear my Indiana Jones hat now and say "Why, yes I am...."    Yeah, Its great fun.   Now comes work....as soon as I can find some.   I have a few prospects lined up,   but not as an archaeologist, naturally.    Missoula isnt exactly bursting at the seams with Archaeology sites.      Chances are,  I'll just find a job and bust my ass for the next 6 months and get in a little better position with monies, and then really dig into the prospect of a Masters Degree.
Funny thing,  My focus is in Aviation Archaeology,   and not a month before I graduate,  some lucky polish oil guy wandering the Egyptian Desert finds this:  http://news.yahoo.com/blogs/upshot/fighter-plane-world-war-ii-found-194133295.html

That is  P-40 Warhawk....Intact....My most favorite Airplane ever...even wrecked she looks mean...mmmm pretty...
I am now determined to find another like her...



What?  A car blog you say?   YES of course.  Thats what this is, and I am bored of talking about my degree.   Its a bit hollow anyway,   but thats for later.    ON TO ZE AUTOS!


Last weekend (May 5th)   My friend and mechanic Justin (look for our upcoming youtube car channel)  picked up a 1978 Chevy Blazer with a "bad"  transmission for about a hundred bucks:  the cost of fuel to go get it, and lunch, I imagine.  
This poor old truck had been a plow truck for years, and it showed.....The wheel arches were rusted,  the side windows busted,  the paint faded.  Rear roof had long ago since vanished, and the back of the cab was a stylish white plywood and bathroom caulking wall. The hood didn't latch and flew up against the windshield while on the trailer,   smashing the glass.    The drivers front fender was held on by two bolts and a bungy cord and the wiring for the headlights. And the hood, which I cut off with a grinding wheel.    The passenger fender was from a Scottsdale pickup, and had been poorly painted blue to match the rest of the truck.   The core support, grill and bumper had been hacked off with a torch to mount the plow,  the driver's headlight hung from the harness and some twisted metal, looking at the ground, and the blinkers hung from tattered wires.   The drivers seat is six inches lower then the passenger because the floors are made entirely made of rust and empty space,   and there is more hantavirus then a mouse plagued village in Australia.

HOWEVER.....

A battery from a 98 ford and a few sprays of starting fluid...This thing fired up....Not only fired up,   but blew a rats nest out of the exhaust, hacked and spit,  then roared to life and idled with ease.
And Drove...
Yes,  we drove this  plague infested blithering mass of misery

up and down the street,  reaching speeds of (possibly) 70mph (the speedo didn't work) with no hood and much stupidity. 

But it was fun.  I even shot a video!  I do have to say, though,  do not do this stupidness at home,   because we were being very ridiculous and unsafe.    

Probably why it was fun.

Sadly,   The reason Justin got this truck for the motor,  a small block 400 v8,   to replace the broken engine in his boat.    Since the rest of the drivetrain was weak, the body ruined, the interior shot, and the fact that neither Justin and I are not Chevy truck fans,  this blazer has not faired well....the roof has been cut/torn/crushed/ not completely ripped off,  the hood removed,  the drivers fender now held on by air,   the engine pulled out,  windshield kicked out,   trans burned up and the body is starting to split in half due to the amount of scrap metal we have tossed in the back.   This old chevy is doomed to the recycler's yard at the end of the week..   But,  for the short time we have known this truck, it has been fun..

Sad

Driving Cars with Youths

Driving and Youth, words synonymous with the fears of parents and general frustration and dislike from the rest of the motoring populace. But those feelings aside, I find the whole subject rather fascinating.

Today as I was walking around the place I am staying at now, I saw five skinny, lanky and goofy looking teenage boys cruising around after school, stuffed into the cab of a 70s Chevy single cab truck with a mismatched door and big tires. They were laughing and goofing around, just bumbling around in this old truck in a very small town with not much to do.

It was something I used to do, and loved doing, when I was in high school . Not that I am terribly old, but it was a decade ago, and for some reason, I miss it.

Which leads me to ask, what the hell happens to us? As we grow up, why is the joy of driving lost? Work, collage, families, marriage, etc etc etc I do know comes with this “Growing Up” phenomenon, but why lose the joy of driving? I know some people have it, those with hot rods or sports cars or motorcycles even, but I don’t know if it is the same feeling. Mostly it’s because of the cars, I think. If you have a vintage muscle car or motorbike, you maybe have a sense of accomplishment or the knowledge that you worked hard (I hope) for that luxury. It is hard to be excited about your driving experience on a daily basis when having to drive a boring minivan or drab domesticated sedan. Admittedly, there is something that isn’t exactly inspired by that.

Which then takes me back to young drivers…

So unless your parents are footing the bill for everything (which I personally hate with a passion), gas, insurance, upkeep, and are throwing down a hell of a lot of money on a really nice set of wheels, chances are your first vehicle isn’t going to be spectacular. Mine was a 1987 Dodge Ram 2wd with a six cylinder engine, crank windows and a tape deck. It wasn’t exactly a Ferrari. It was red, though…

Point is, that old truck was something you’d expect a grandpa in a nice cul da sac neighborhood to haul his lawn mower to the small engine mechanic, some planks for the deck, and a few bags of potting soil for his wife’s garden. It wasn’t fast or flashy, nor impressive in the slightest.

But, It was mine. And that truck represented that one crucial thing that teenagers love: Freedom.

Every single time I turned the key, I was the most badass guy in the world (least I thought so). I certainly drove it like it was a super car.

Luckly for me and the insurers and everyone else on the road, that truck could just about get out of its own way....and that was it. But no matter! The radio worked (sometimes), it was pretty (to me anyway) and it was my gateway to all the fun I could have! Joy with vinyl seats and plain steel wheels! And I would be willing to bet that every young driver felt that way when getting into their Pontiac Grand Am or Ford Taurus sedans or tired Jeep Cherokees. Doesn’t matter how bad it was (and I saw some pretty pathetic junkyard rejects) that car was the ticket to all sort of possibilities. Adventure! Independence! Freedom!

WTF happened, then? You would think that being a grown up and being able to afford something nicer then a pathetically underpowered Eagle Talon that smelled like old McDonalds fries would be a boon to your happiness. Make you feel even more awesome, or simply just enjoy the day a little more.

It saddens me to think, though, that we have lost this feeling in the years following high school. Now it’s all thoughts of work and collage and money and stress and no time, etc etc etc… Do these feelings die when that old car gets wrecked or breaks down for the last time? Why does that dream of being free because you have a set of wheels fade when that first car ends its days rusting in the scrap yard?

Sadness.

I hate being a grown up.

I want my fun back.

Pickup Trucks

Pickup Trucks

Such a fantastically wonderful beast this is. You can haul furniture, cargo, groceries, your dog (the most important thing, in my opinion), a trailer or your other grown up toys in them. They are work

I have to ask then, wtf has happened to the breed in the modern age? vehicles, daily drivers or the once in a long while rig that lives in a barn or under a tarp for when you need it, and are one

of the most recognizable parts of American culture.

Today, trucks are almost akin to Mercedes or Cadillacs. Trucks built wholly out of glitz and chrome lumber around town with their shiny paint and their fancy wheels and car-like ride

.

BUT WHY? Trucks were never meant for that life. I see some truck rolling on 25 inch rims blasting some Puff Piddly or what the hell ever and I just want to vomit. And there are always the ubiquitous “Small penis” jokes that accompany the trucks that are 300 feet high with

monster truck suspension and huge exhaust for the fire breathing engines that can barely lug them around. I just don’t understand it. Isn’t this why luxury cars and muscle cars were invented? To be status symbols? To show you had a lot of money?

And before you say anything about a truck being a symbol of a farmer or rancher’s wealth, I have to say that I always associate the big white caddy with steer horns with either oil or cattle barons. A truck is for work. And besides, so you have enough money for a really nice truck to work your farm….why buy a second to toodle around in and pretend to be important? That’s what fancy cars are for!

But, enough of that, I am more concerned with the new trucks…. about the last 15 years... These trucks, I have found, have no….soul. I personally own a truck that is 30 years old. It is drafty, rides rough, loud, made of real metal and has the aerodynamic efficiency of an Ironclad battleship. The siy cylinder engine, carburetor, old style clutch and clunky shifting transmission all give the truck character that you can speak to. Simple, effective, simple...again... No glitz, no

shiny chrome, crank windows…not even a radio. Like an old fighter plane or bomber, an old pickup has a spirit. It was designed to be a work vehicle, not a sports car. And like those old planes, they are used in ways they were never meant or designed to be: as tractors, veterinary tables, hunting benches, ladders, storage units…the list could go on. But there is some sort of joy that comes from turning that key and hearing it fire up, slotting the lever into gear, and taking off down the street with a heavy snarl. A vehicle to chase adventure with, an old classic that is unique and stands out in a crowd, but isn’t pompus or ridiculous. Dispite the fact they were built to work, old trucks are pretty classy rides. And I mean old ones. My 30 year old Dodge truck is on the very edge of classic, but redone trucks from the 60s, 50s,

out into the 1920s are all just gorgeous to look at and wonderful to drive. They don’t handle well, or are the most comfortable, but that is no matter, because you don’t expect them to be. These are the trucks in country love stories or hillbilly music, the steeds of hard working people, the ingrained image of rustic America. These trucks, these have character.

New trucks, they simply have no soul. You get in and drive and there is just…..blah..Just “Well, have to pick up some ply wood and two by fours” , no “Ha, this is fun!” like you get in an old truck.

Its kinda sad...