I was reading my last post, and it has been a very long time since I've been here.  So let's catch up.

For starters, here's a picture I took at the Eastern Neck National Wildlife Refuge, last week.  It's about twenty five minutes from where my daughters practice for the regional youth choir, so if I don't dawdle, I can get there, poke around for a half hour or so and get back just in time for them to walk out of their hour and a half practice. The bridges in the background are the suspension spans between Annapolis and Kent Island, and the towers to the right are near the Naval Academy.  I didn't get the file to upload at full resolution. Honestly, I can't remember how, but that's a bald eagle on the  post between the two sections of reeds, and there are geese landing for the evening as well. I was aiming to get the geese landing, but I didn't even know the bald eagle was there, 'til I downloaded the files to my computer. We hadn't had many geese 'til this past week, and now there are more every day. I hope not, but that's normally a harbinger of hard weather coming soon.

So for those of you who remember that we were getting qualified because my nephew had been removed from his mother,  the home study went well, but at the last minute, they gave my sister in law a reprieve and let her have my nephew back.  They gave her joint custody with my mother in law, which may as well be full custody because they live about an hour apart.  I'm still a bit angry, knowing she put him at risk so many times, but maybe she'll beat the odds and straighten up.  It's been several months and she appears to be holding down a job.

Earlier this summer, I traded my motorcycle for a sailboat. I finally got my boat. All summer, the kids and I worked filling pinholes and restoring the hull to prepare for paint, but the summer ran out before I had time to get all the paint on, so barring a few nice Indian summer days, it looks like it won't be launched 'til spring. I will, though be posting pictures from the summer.  I was very proud, every person at the boat yard has remarked that they have never seen a group of kids come out and work hour after hour without complaining, throughout a summer, like my kids did.

I'm sure there's a whole lot more, but I'll leave it at this for now.  Leave me a link to your best post from the summer and I'll use that as a starting point for catching up.  I missed you all, and I'm excited to be back.

I haven't written in a long time.  Last month commenced with good intentions, but alas, our driver pool had slipped from the 56 authorized to 46, and the busiest time of year builds from New Year's Day up until Super Bowl, so I ended up on the road for all but two of the last 15 days of the month.  I'd complain, but I have a job that pays good, and the only reason I don't have another is because I've  not chosen to search wholeheartedly for another, so it's my own fault.  Now, I have a day, maybe two in a row, off from work, so I have no excuse.   Writing is like cycling.  It's something I love, but the longer I go without, the easier it is to continue without noticing.  For me both cycling and writing are catharsis.  I am somewhat of a brooder, and I easily fall into a bit of depression, but I'm not a person who an comfortably stay that way, so early in life I learned that vigorous exercise gets me back to feeling like a human being.  I was always a writer, not in the professional sense, just in the "guy who likes to put thoughts down on paper" way.  And so, despite the hiatus, here I sit, writing.  My wife, figuring out after almost 18 years of marriage, that  I'm a better human being after I've brutalized myself on the bicycle, got me a machine for my birthday, that allows me to mount my bike and ride indoors during the snowy, icy days in the middle of winter, so now I have no excuse for being anything other than a shining example of what a man should be.

So here's the quick update.  Home study is almost completed, as it appears my SIL is too far in the grasp of her drug to recover, at least before her extension runs out, so it looks like our family will grow by one sometime this summer.   The judge gave her six more months, so if she can stay clean that long, there is some hope.   My wife was diagnosed formally today with diabetes, though she's known for years it would be coming.  My 16 year old, Sam, got the lead alto part in the spring musical, so she's busy rehearsing, and after not being allowed to photograph the last production due to copyright stuff, we have come to a solution that satisfies all.  I will be present at a couple dress rehearsals and will photograph to my heart's content at the behest of the theater program.  They really liked my pics last time I was able to shoot, so everyone comes out happy.   They will get copies of all the good shots to use for their purposes and I will gain some invaluable experience.  Other than that, I have not pushed the job search much, but will get it more in motion when our slow season comes around in a couple weeks.  There has been a lot of drama with managers quitting and being fired, and a lot of employees doing the same, so I'm hoping maybe corporate will intervene and things will improve to a point where the search for a new job might again be directed toward promotion at my current company.

I hope you all are doing well.  I haven't even read your blogs lately, but am commencing to do just that. I look forward to discovering what you have all been up to while I've been away.  Now, though, I have to run off to get the landlord to sign a paper, so we can get a new dog.  It's all my son has wanted since we had to put down Buster several years ago, so this year, we're thinking that may be his birthday gift.  I'll update soon.

I've been away so long, I forgot how to post pictures, so I'm going to try to refresh myself.   I have started a personal challenge.  I am picking a theme a month, and trying to use that to discipline myself to shoot with a plan.  I'm hoping it will help me improve my skill as a photographer and help me to learn some new tricks and skills.  I have some friends joining me in the challenge on Facebook, and I will be posting a blog once a month with each of their favorite shots from the month.  Here are the best of my pictures today, shooting for this months theme, Curves and Angles.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/easternshorephotography/10275607816/in/photostream/

Hmm... I wonder why all the pictures loaded but the last one?  Anyway, I'll be shooting all month on this theme, trying to capture it in as many different subjects as I can, all the while trying to get better as I go.

Yes, I've been gone for a while, and I've missed you guys.  I suppose everything has its season. Well, the season has changed, and winter has struck with fury.  We were forecast to have a dusting of snow starting last evening, but around lunchtime yesterday, little flurries began to fall and quickly increased in size until great flakes filled the sky and obscured the mountains in the distance.  I detoured away from Washington, where I knew traffic would be snarled. and took old US highway 340 through  historic Harper's Ferry, WV, sneaking through the mountains just in time.  The snow had come 12 hours early, and the road crews were caught unprepared, so when the sun began to set, and the temps dropped below freezing, mountain roads were quickly blocked by accidents and cars that couldn't make it up the slippery hills.  News radio quickly became weather and traffic radio as news of road closings and snarled traffic began to reach from one scheduled break to the next.  I got back and got the truck parked, warmed my car and headed home.  After I crossed the Chesapeake Bay, visibility lowered to almost zero and the roads  turned slick.  I got to Easton, where I would pick up my wife from work, and took a break 'til she finished.  By the time she was ready 15 minutes later, the roads were completely covered with snow.  It was coming down so fast, that even though the road crews were by now salting and plowing in full force, they just couldn't keep up. Of course the drivers out on the road only knew two speeds, recklessly fast and dangerously slow, but with care and some luck, we made it home safely, stopping only once to clean the ice off the windshield wipers. Got the car parked, walked in to the house and let the cares of the world wash away.  My wife and kids were all home, the fire was hot and I could remember, if just for a few short moments, why it is I work so hard.

I hope you all had a wonderful Christmas and are enjoying the new year.

My Trusty Old Freightliner

If you've ever seen a semi with a coating of black oil down the side of the trailer, the whole way from nose to tail, you can be fairly certain that someone who recently pulled that trailer experienced a failure of their turbocharger. As the seals in the bearings failed, the oil that was being pumped through as lubricant escaped into the truck's intake, traveled through the engine and partially unburnt, out the exhaust, where it dripped out the stacks, turning to a mist and coating anything behind.

I arrived as early as possible that Monday to load a heavy load of plywood from the Plum Creek mill in Columbia Falls, MT. No matter, by the time I got through the mill's safety class, collected my reward (a pink ball cap with their logo), actually got my truck loaded, tied it down and took my turn latching into the overhead fall prevention system to throw my tarps, the sun was high in the Rocky Mountain sky. The people, who lived with the constant threat that their mill would be the next one mothballed if lumber prices went a little too far in the wrong direction, were very friendly, and soon had my paperwork ready. I gave them my driver's license number and my John Hancock, and was on my way.

The drive south, around Flathead Lake was breathtaking, and the day and the miles passed quickly. Presently the sun set, and I began to tire.  I found a gravel parking lot on the edge of a small Wyoming farm town and parked for the night. The late summer air was brisk but not cold. I'd sleep under the blankets with the engine off to save fuel and wear and tear on an engine approaching a million miles in service. I turned the key. The engine grumbled and shook to a halt. All was quiet...or should have been. Tick, tick, tick, tick, tick...a quiet, sharp, metallic tapping that continued for a minute or so, then slowly tailed off to nothing. A quick mental checklist and I reached an initial conclusion. Only one part of the engine continues to move after it's shut down. I pulled out the flashlight and a screwdriver, pulled the hood open and unscrewed the clamp on an intake duct to gain access to the pressure side of the turbo. Sure enough, there was enough play in the shaft for the vanes to touch the housing. Do a quick mental picture of a turbine wheel with 30 or 40 precisely machined vanes coming into contact with its metal housing at speeds over 1,000 revolutions per SECOND. The coming failure would be ugly and could throw pieces down the intake converting the engine from exquisite machinery to scrap metal in less time than it takes the thought to cross your mind. There was nothing to do but sleep and worry about repairs in the morning.

The sound of tires crunching gravel. I brushed the sleep from my eyes, and pulled aside the sleeper curtain. Ugh! The sun was not even over the horizon. With my problems, I knew I'd never get back to sleep, so I pulled on some clothes and made my way to the building where all the pick-ups were parked. Someone was nursing a fire to life in an old woodstove, while farmers poked fun at each other and ordered their breakfasts, some of them downing shots of whiskey while they waited. I might well have been invisible, "Any diesel mechanics here?". The room went quiet, as all eyes turned to the interloper. It felt like I was on stage, "Any diesel mechanics here? My turbo's shot." Convinced there was nothing to see, conversations renewed and someone gave me the name of a local guy who worked on tractors. After a phone call it was apparent that if he were to do the job, he'd drive 80 miles to Casper to get the part, then back before he could even start the job, and that was after he dealt with the local work to which he'd already committed. "Let me get back to you." I borrowed a Yellow Pages, found a Casper towing company and made the call, "I have some emergency repairs to make. Are there any local mechanics you especially trust or distrust?" He recommended the Peterbilt dealer. Another call. A short hold, and I was talking to a mechanic.

I described my problem.

"Any visible damage to the compressor vanes?"

"No. That's the first thing I checked."

"Is the ticking only when you turn the truck off?"

"Yeah."

"Are you sure?"

"Is it safe for me to try?"

"Not necessarily, but it worked 'til now and it'll help know how bad of a fix you're really in."

"Ok, hold on." I start the truck, let it idle for a few seconds, rev it just a hair, then turn it off. "Yep, it only starts tapping a few seconds after I shut down the engine."

"Here's the deal. The oil pressure when the engine is running is enough to hold the shaft in place, at least for now, so the tapping you hear is the vanes scraping the housing after the oil stops pumping. You can either get a tow truck if you want to be absolutely safe, or you can take what I think is a pretty good chance. Start the truck and drive it to our shop, but don't turn it off again 'til we get you in a bay. Chances are if it's lasted this long, it'll make it one more start/stop cycle."

"If it were your truck?"

"No question, I'd take the chance before I paid a couple grand to a tow truck company, but it's your truck, and I can't make any promises."

His advice was good, and I made it to Casper uneventfully. Though I was lucky enough not to spray oil from my exhaust and ruin my tarps, it had leaked into the intercooler, so I had to have that removed and steam cleaned, but they had me repaired and on my way with a new turbo by mid afternoon. The price was very reasonable. 

Just a couple hours later, in Colorado, I blew a tire. I was approaching an exit, and just off the ramp was a tire shop, so I had it replaced quickly.

The next exit was a DOT check, but they waved me by.

Not fifty miles later, my almost new, chrome, smoke stack fell off.  The clamp hadn't been properly tightened.  I walked back a quarter mile, found it only a few scratches worse for the wear, replaced it on the side of the road, and made the rest of my trip uneventfully.

I can't even remember my destination.   I think it was in Texas, but I did beat my deadline.  The customer got their load early and never even knew there had been trouble on the way.

Or "Generous Face - Stingy Heart"

Years ago, when my family was much smaller,  I was driving them home from the grocery store one bitterly cold, rainy night when I saw a forty something black lady standing on the side of the road.  I didn't know her, but I'd seen her around, so I asked my wife if she'd have an issue stopping to give her a ride.  The response I got was less than happy agreement, "Yeah, I would hate to be stuck out in this nasty weather. "   We turned around and offered her a ride.  She eagerly agreed, then stepped over to the bushes as if to pick up her bags, and out stepped another person I recognized: her boyfriend, a local drunk.  "You're ok with him, too?" Now it was my turn to be less than thrilled, "I guess so.  You know that's not the most honest way to get a ride. Next time I may be just as likely to drive by knowing you'll pull a trick like that."   Of course, I also knew that she knew she'd have never gotten a ride at all if both of them were walking together.

I knew where he lived.   It was in the opposite direction a couple miles, but by the time we dropped them off, my car retained his distinct odor of unwashed body and malt liquor.  I vaguely remember the conversation that followed the click of the door shutting after they thanked us and got out, but I clearly remember it was not pleasant.

In the ensuing years,  there have been multiple occasions when my wife and I have come across either of the two asking for some favor or the other, and though more times than not, we've politely declined, we've helped out on a number of occasions.   It's just what you do in a small town.  Some people are less fortunate, and even if it's because of their own choices or the demons they haven't tamed, you take your turn.  Yes, he's one of those people who is monetarily a net loss to society, but he is, after all, a human being.

When he feels the initiative, he does odd jobs at a mechanic shop a couple doors down  from the place we now live, and he has to pass our new place to get into town or go home.  I don't remember how it started, but the kids, for lack of any other name, call him Dude.  So we'll be out in the yard, and he'll come by on his scooter, and the kids'll holler out, "Hey, Dude!" , and he'll wave and be on his way.  Of course, a good portion of the time, I assume there's no money, even for gas for the scooter, so he'll be afoot.

This morning, I went down to the 7eleven a couple hundred yards down from our house, eager to fill my Double Gulp and avoid the impending caffeine withdrawal headache.  There he stood.   As I walked in, he asked how I was doing.  I stopped for a few seconds, and  we discussed how chilly it has been the last couple mornings.  I was pretty sure, I was getting the leadup to a, "Hey man, can you spare a buck?"   Sure enough, as I came out with my  soda, he let loose with the exact question, but being the good salesman he is, and having seen the purpose of my visit, he added, "...so I can get a soda to drink."  The conversation in my head, starting with, "Who's he think he's fooling? I'm not wasting my hard earned money funding Dude's next 40 0z."  involved my opinions on able people who leech off the labors of those who actually drag themselves out of bed at ungodly hours of the morning to give of their blood, sweat and tears to EARN their soda money, but I hadn't helped him in a while, and I mean, really, as tight as money is, I'm not one to deny a thirsty man a drink.   I showed him my empty wallet, and reluctantly said, "Come on..."   I had noticed he has been hobbling with a cane the last couple months.  "What happened to your foot?"  "Got hit by a car."  "Walking home drunk again in the dark?", but  the last sentence got caught in the filter before it exited my brain.

He picked the cheapest thing in the cooler.  I paid.  He thanked me effusively.  I told him it was no problem, though the words falling from my lips did not mirror the sentiments brooding inside.   I, earnestly now, wished him a good day and was off, hurrying home so my daughter could have the car for work.

So my brother, David, and I were out on a ride. As we passed Brownsville road, heading east on 304, we built speed to try for a record on the segment from there to the short bridge just before Doc's (that's the restaurant in the building where the old beer joint used to be, down by the wharf, for you who don't live here any more). He led out, picking up some serious speed on the first downhill, and as the road bent upwards, I began to push into the pain zone, knowing that if I passed him and didn't let up, he'd up his effort to catch up on the next flat. We topped the hill, still getting the job done, over 20 mph., headed down the next hill in a big gear picking up speed and it began to look as if we might beat our best time yet, until out from a field on the side of the road, about 300 yards ahead, a huge, yellow, New Holland combine harvester. Ugh!!! We sat up and soft pedaled, our record run ruined. While we followed the huge machine, we made a new plan. We'd ride up into town and take 213 north to Island Creek road to try and get a good time on the segment from there back in to Spaniard's Neck road. Me, "Ok, we'll take it easy on the way out, so we have something left on the way back." David, "Sounds good." That worked 'til the first downhill, 25 mph, then we soft pedaled the uphill and flat. Of course, then came the downhill and all pretension of neutrality was out the window. 23,24,25,26,27,28,29 clink, squeal, huh? I sat up, and listened...not my bike. "Hey David, slow down...easy." Sounded like something was caught between his brake and his rim. We came to a stop. The noise continued. That could only mean one thing. David flatted at almost 30 mph while his front wheel was almost touching my rear wheel, and we both lived to tell the story. We would not be getting any new spots on the STRAVA leaderboard, though, and it would be a long, very slow ride home. At least we have a good new story to tell.

Well, Hello friends.  I suppose it's time to commence posting on the new Xanga.  I think I like it, but the jury's still out.  At least I can still read the writing of the friends I've made here over the years.  Now's time for you to help me out.  This thing is switching fonts and only posting the pictures super small.  It's also putting a laundry list of numbers and letters at the top of the visible post. Any ideas? 

Did this summer fly by or was it just me?  We had a scorching June here on the Eastern Shore of Maryland, then the weather turned temperate and has stayed that way ever since.  By this time of year, I'm normally using the pellet stove to take the chill off the house every morning, and as yet, I've only used it once, the day I replaced the door seal and cleaned it to prepare for the coming winter.  I'm absolutely loving it.

I've made the decision to find a way to stop working every weekend.  It's an easy decision, but a tough project.  We finally got our new boss, though there still hasn't been an official announcement.  I did get an email saying I didn't get the job, and I met the guy a couple days later but haven't seen him since.  I'm hoping he's a good one.  First order of business is to see if I can work with the new guy to hammer something out and stick around this place.  Management is frustrating, but it's a really good job and the benefits are phenomenal, so it's at least worth a try.  Since that option relies on things outside my control, I've begun targeting new positions and submitting resumes to other companies in the industry.  I'm not terribly confident, but I have been told by two of my previous managers that I know more about the industry and am better qualified for management than they were, so I keep reminding myself of their confidence and hammer on.   Meanwhile, at least for a few weeks, I have some respite.  Training a new guy for the job cuts my work week to two 24 hour days.

I hope you all are well.

Here are some recent pics.  Send along your advice as to how I can post them larger.

Gracie's birthday cake

How kids these days think their parents looked in the eighties.

Sam, helping out at her new job at the local theater.  She was taking pics that evening to promote the monthly opera showings.  I now have my wife and two oldest girls working at the cinema.  My wife is the official fill-in manager working two days a week and then covering shifts if someone calls in sick or has an emergency, and the two girls are hourly help.

     A couple weeks ago, my wife and I stole off early for a dinner date on the way to pick up my nephew at the airport.  Conversation drifted off in an odd way and we began to discuss what we would do if we found ourselves alone in the world with enough money in the bank that we didn't have to work for a while.  Neither of us had ever had any cause to consider this (unless maybe she's thinking about having me done in for the insurance money), but after a few minutes of thought, we had our ideas.  I would probably buy a truck, throw my bicycle on the back and go cross country again.  My wife had bigger ideas.  She would go see the ruins of some of the great civilizatiions, taste some wines and meet people.  She'd travel to Greece, Italy and France at a leisurely pace so she could soak it all in.  We then discussed what we would have thought the other would do, and that's where it got interesting.  I have always been the dreamer.  I was going to sail solo around the world as a young adult.  I was going to be a missionary pilot.  I always had some money making scheme.  I was just that guy.  My wife's dreams were snuffed out early by years of abuse as a child, so she has never been willing to admit to even having dreams.  When she expressed her surprise that I would probably not do anything special, it got me started thinking.  I wonder when I gave up on my dreaming and I wonder what has changed that has given her back the ability to dream?  I didn't even realize that part of me had changed.

     My nephew, Christopher was up from Texas for a week.  He's 16 and hadn't been up for a while.  Since he shares my love of airplanes, we had decided that we'd save the Air and Space Museum for his visit, so on our last visit, we did the zoo and Natural History Museum on our last trip.  Downtown DC is only a little more than fifty miles from our house, so we try to make several trips a year to see the sights. There's a nice parking garage just two blocks from the Air and Space Museum, so we were able to drive in to town, drive right to the garage and head over to the museum without the hour it normally takes to find a street side parking lot.

     We gathered at the airliner cockpit to make our strategy. Each little kid had to be with a big kid or an adult, and there had to be a phone in each group.

     Some of us went into the Wright Brother's shop.

     They had an example of one of their bicycles.  Bonus! I got to see bicycles and airplanes.

     The famous Wright Flyer! The one that arguably started it all on a sand dune down in Kitty Hawk, NC.

     Danny and Christopher liked the huge, radial engines and had me take their picture with this one.

     If you're at all an aviation history buff, you'll remember the beautiful Lockheed Vega flown by Amelia Earhardt.  I found out that Grace, Isabel and Samantha all love her story. Guess the apple doesn't fall far from the tree.

     The girls wanted me to take this pic, but getting them to pose together was like herding cats, so I just snapped off a shot.

      Sam and Rebekah met me under a drone, while we waited for Christopher and Danny to finish a simulator ride.

     Tina and he kids had a blast in the "Principles of Flight" exhibit, with all the interactive displays.

      Taking a break.  Rebekah's a lot like her Daddy and Mama. She always has her nose in a book.

      The Vin Fiz.  Can you believe this airplane flew across the country from coast to coast?

     Learning about the history of spying from aircraft.

The camera from the U-2 spyplane was quite a bit bigger than the ones we use, but was able to get very high resolution photos from super high altitudes.

Speaking of the U-2, that's one behind Sandra, Christopher and Isa.

     Rocket planes to test how aircraft fly at super high speeds.

     Air mail was a little different toward the beginning of the last century.

     So much history in this place. Can you identify any of these iconic machines?

     I was surprised that all of the kids really enjoyed this museum.

     A Howard Hughes Air racer.  No matter how I tried, I couldn't get a decent shot of this aircraft without the Staggerwing intruding up in the corner.

     Speaking of the Staggerwing.  This airplane, manufactured by Beechcraft, was a thing of beauty. 

     One of these days we'll make it out to the Smithsonian's hangar west of DC at Dulles airport where they house another, even larger collection of aircraft that aren't currently on exhibit at the museum in town.  This collection includes the SR-71 spyplane and a Space Shuttle.  We made it into and out of the city without hitting much traffic at all, then stopped at Ritas on the way home for a sweet and cold treat.  Christopher's visit went by quickly, and I had to drop him at the airport this morning for his flight back to TX.