After fifteen years of being idle, this evening I’ve found time to create a new project. I doubt I’ll post as often as I did while living in Oregon because I have fewer quiet hours in the beautiful village I now call home.
Where should I begin? Maybe the time to start is May 30, 2023 and the place is on the apron in front of my friend’s hanger at the Sharp County Regional Airport in Cherokee Village, Arkansas. That’s where I found myself at the end of a week long journey across America from Oregon. I arrived in the cab of a 26 foot U-Haul truck filled with my household goods, towing a trailer which bore my everyday car. Friends will remember my habit of referring to my ride as the “guzzler.” Think I’ll keep that habit: it’ll make things easier if I do.
There was a second 26 foot long U-Haul truck, driven by my brother-in-law, in my wake. Sporty, which long ago replaced the Guzzler Deluxe, rode jauntily on a trailer behind it. This truck held the contents of my garage and hanger. To this day, more than a year later, I have not sorted out the mess caused by mixing garage and hanger gear. Every time I look for something in my garage it will take a trip to the airport before it can be found. And, usually if I need whatever is required while at the airport, I must go back home and search the garage. I believe there’s some sort of demonic curse at work causing this problem. I know of no law of physics strong enough to account for it.
No matter, the trucks, trailers, brother-in-law and I had arrived. All that was left was to find a place to unload everything and start my new life.
