No, not for me, or even the old truck, but for the bride of my youth, she of the Summer of Broken Bones. She went back to work at the bank today, part time. Her surgeon gave the okay last Thursday. It’ll be three weeks of part time, then full time if she’s able. She was eager to get back. It’s been a long haul since July 11, and she never complained once, about any of it. That’s pioneer stock. She might still need surgery down the road, to increase the limited range of motion she has on account of those ugly fractures to the shoulder and how they glued together all by themselves, without plates and screws and all the rest. Time will tell.
Okay, but dig the truck. This was not quite two weeks ago, second night of that “Son of Sandy” nor’easter, I believe.
And this is today. No time to make a full report but I’ll aim to get to it before the end of the year. In brief, the cab and chassis are up the hill, the flatmotor and transmission are in, body parts are going on. The doors and the grille are next. With a little luck the bride and I will run after our Christmas tree in the old bomb, a family tradition since ’97. Missed it last year because the truck was in pieces and scattered in the woods down back.
The interior’s going back together as well. Will keep picking away at it. My headspace has been monopolized by a spec writing project lately but I’m switching off onto a different job now, got approval on that today from Brendan Burford, my friend and editor at King Features Syndicate in New York. So it’s time to shift gears. Just not in the truck. No shifter yet, see? And no clutch pedal.
Tony DePaul, November 19, 2012, Cranston, Rhode Island