Hella mileage milestone!

See that number written in Sharpie above my speedo? 14265 is what the odometer read when Hella was dropped off a dead hulk in my driveway nearly four years ago. Writing that mileage on the dash was the first mark I made on the rig. I knew I had months of work ahead of me before she would even start, let alone run around the tiny town of Ellensburg. After a couple years of literal blood, sweat and tears, she was truly road worthy and I hit the road putting my faith in the work I had done. There's been lots of mechanical hurdles to overcome along the way, but we've tackled them all with ingenuity and determination and she's a truly solid daily driver now. I know she'll throw more curves at me, but I've proven to myself that I'm up to the task. It's a truly awesome feeling to know a vehicle's systems as thoroughly as I do this truck's now. It gives you confidence to really stretch your legs and take the path less traveled.

Last night on the way to Ballard from an evening with my son in Lynnwood, she turned over mile 28530. In less than four years I have doubled the miles she put on in her 20+ years of military and steel mill service before being rolled into a barn to sleep for over 30 years. This big beautiful doll is officially more mine than she's ever been anyone else's and that's a big deal to me! I am one of those humans that gets extremely attached to my ride. I've had two different rigs for over 13 years each. I modified them heavily, but nothing even remotely on par with Hella. This rig is truly a dream manifest for me. I feel so very blessed to be her caretaker. We take excellent care of each other.

My partnership with this truck is likely to be the longest of my life as far as vehicles go. I plan on running her to the very end and then she will be my kid's. Whether they keep her or not, (she's a serious handful in lots of ways), will be up to them. But, no matter what happens, I know she'll go on being loved and bringing smiles and thumbs up everywhere she rolls. That's a very cool part of my legacy, one that makes me happy to think of. It's not even close to the importance of the work I'm doing for families, but for a lifelong old-school gearhead like myself, it's deeply satisfying.

So, congrats Hella! Whaddya say we roll a few hundred thousand more?

(PS- Not one dollar of Jackdaw support has ever been spent on Hella's restoration and modification. I did it all with my personal savings and the sale of possessions I no longer needed.)

Memory is a precious gift

We rarely fully appreciate something until it is lost. No one gets through life without the experience many times and in many ways. On the fortunate occasions, we heal or grow without permanent damage or loss. But, not always.

As many of you know, my sister and I, (primarily my sister by a large margin), have been our mom's caregivers for the last two years as Alzheimers has steadily taken away her memory. It's been a horrifying and crushing thing to witness. I can't imagine a more devastating fate for a human to endure at the end of their days. I am one who steadfastly seeks the lesson or opportunity within terrible circumstances. But in the case of Alzheimers, I have yet to see the good.

Two and a half years ago, a fall I took at work badly tore up my left knee. I was on crutches for several months and in constant pain. After six months I was slowly and rigidly walking without crutches. Years later now and it's still not 100%. I don't know that it ever will be again, but I can walk. The thought early on that I may be done walking was terrifying. But, losing my mobility would be nothing compared to losing my life memories. I would give up any other sense or ability I possess in exchange to keep all that I have known, lived, loved and experienced in my life.

Think of those you love and who love you. The love and trust you give, build and share with them is the greatest force in your life. It binds us together and entwines our fates beyond this life. Now, imagine slowly, relentlessly, becoming a stranger to one you share that bond with.

Far worse, imagine what the other side must be like. Knowing the person before you is of significance to you, yet there is no memory to tell you why. As a matter of fact, you don't know anybody anymore, yet they are telling you what you must do. Assuring you that you can trust them. Oddly familiar strangers giving you medications, dressing you, helping you move about within limitations you do not understand. Not ever truly grasping your situation. Having thoughts that are so fragmented that you cannot articulate them in even the simplest of ways.

All because your memory banks are incrementally shutting down in a slow cascade of confusion.

The words, 'Remember me', written on the rail car in the above photo got me thinking about all this. We all want to be remembered by the ones we love in life. We all think about how we'll be remembered and hope it's positive and inspiring to those who's lives we have touched. Mom doesn't always remember who I am, but I will always remember her as the sweet and loving soul that had unyielding faith in her beliefs and her children. She's still there before me no matter what wretchedness this disease visits upon her. I'll be spending the next few days taking care of her so Nik can get a break. I'm anxious because I know I will be stepping into her life as a stranger again and that hurts. Funny how no matter what our age, being in a parent's presence gives rise to a desire for their recognition and approval. A flash back to childhood when mom or dad would scoop us up in a big, warm hug of pride and joy! I miss that more than I can say.

At this point in mom's journey, all those that love her are her memory now and we remember her. We see her for who she has been to us all her life. We know she loves and is proud of us. We know she trust us. The disease is not who she is. It presents confusion, desperation and anxiety. I will never allow the face of Alzheimers to reshape her.

I love you mom. You are remembered.