The time it took for you to read the title of this blog, roughly 3 seconds, is all the time needed to lose your life. A couple of years ago I was in Rapid City, SD headed to Hot Springs to visit with Jim & Beth of Hoka Hey fame and was setting at an intersection waiting for the light to turn green. A rider passed through the intersection and he looked toward me and nodded his head as to say, “Hey, how’s it going?” That was all the time needed for the car in front of him to stop and he rode into the back of the car.
All it took was a brief second of distraction…
His injuries were minimal, but the bike needed to go to the shop for repair. While waiting on the police to show up we talked and I learned he was a rider with years of experience and this was his first mishap. The split second it took for him to look at me was all the time it took for the convergence of unfortunate circumstances to meld together and result in an accident.
Riding is risky business and we, as riders, are responsible for reducing that risk as best we can. Most assuredly during those years of riding he had, as we all have, allowed his attention to be diverted for a second or two while acknowledging someone while riding or take a few extra seconds to look at the scenic view to the left or right. But, in previous instances other variables did not enter into the mix, like the car stopping unexpectedly or a deer dashing out to get to the other side of the highway.
We rely on our riding skill and experience to stay between the ditches and to keep the shiny side up while we ride. These are important for sure, but I think attitude and focused attention are more important. Call me rude if you like, but I will never wave at an oncoming rider while I’m in city traffic. I assume every car within 100 feet of me is ready to implement a well-developed plan to run me down and then take a selfie over my lifeless body. We have all had close calls with cagers and the only reason we lived through it was because we were 100% focused on the task at hand and evaded the assault. What happens when that “close call” presents itself during that short span of seconds when we are momentarily distracted by some inconsequential thing?
Stay focused, stay alert and always ride as if everyone is out to get you. It’s a strong bet they are indeed looking for an opportunity for the perfect selfie and your lifeless body would make a fine backdrop. Don’t give them the opportunity.
These are four attributes many claim to have, but, if all were revealed, may not be the case. It is easy to give “lip service” to these and, unless someone sees what you do when no one is looking, many may believe what you say and take you at face value. Action—action gives evidence when words die away. Do we claim honesty, but bend a little on taxes? Do we claim integrity, but work diligently only when the boss is looking? Do we do only what is asked and see no reason to go an extra step because there is nothing in it for us personally? Do we claim generosity and compassion, but turn a blind eye to the plight of others within arm’s reach?
We can say what we want. We can lay claim to all these favorable attributes and toot our own horn, but without actions as proof our words mean nothing—perhaps, if that is the case, our lives means nothing as well. If, by our actions (not our words) others label us with these attributes then it may be we are on the right path.
Do those who truly possess these attributes fall short of the text-book definition of them? Absolutely—we all have good days and bad days. Don’t let a missed opportunity lay waste to your intent. If you miss a chance to display one of these attributes, then try again. The only time we truly fail is when we stop trying.
If we took all of our good deeds and put them on the left side of a scale and put all our bad deeds on the right side of the scale, the scale would not only tip right, but would violently roll off the right side of the table and land on the family pet. Fortunate for us, the Almighty does not grade us by our deeds, but rather sees our heart and from that vantage point, rallied together with a heaping portion of His grace, sees our worth.
Honesty, integrity, generosity and compassion should be what we strive for. Will we always succeed? Most assuredly not, but we should not let a repeated failure defines us or dissuade us from trying as many times as it takes.
One hundred and twenty four years ago today (DEC 29th 1890) 150 Native Americans were shot dead at Wounded Knee. Some historians estimate the number killed at twice that amount. There is little debate over the fact that regardless of the number of dead, over half were women and children. The event was originally referred to as a battle but in reality, it was a tragic and avoidable massacre. Two weeks prior to this an arrest of Sitting Bull ended in his death leading many Native Americans to believe it was an execution rather than an arrest.
During the late 1880s and into the 1890s the Native Americans believed they had been defeated and confined to the reservations because they had angered the gods—this due to an abandonment of their traditional ways. It was believed a return to their traditional ways would create a new world where all non-believers (as well as non-Indians) would be destroyed. Many Sioux believed the Ghost Dance would bring about this new world. The Ghost Dance worried the US Government which lead to the “arrest” of Sitting Bull, the Sioux Chief who they mistakenly believed was the main instigator of the Ghost Dance.
On December 29th, 1890 the US 7th Cavalry surrounded the weak and predominantly unarmed Sioux. An order was given for all Indians to turn over their weapons. It is unclear who fired the first shot, but the discharge of the first round was quickly followed by a barrage of rifle-fire from the soldiers of the 7th Cavalry.
The now iconic photograph of the frozen body of Chief Spotted Elk at Wounded Knee.
It is prudent to believe that the 1st shot was not fired by a Native American. A number of assumptions can be called upon to sustain this belief. The Indians were mostly unarmed and they had to know any adverse action would result in what transpired. It can also be surmised the Native Americans were all too weak to put up much of a fight since they had been living with no shelter or food for a number days in the very cold harshness of winter in South Dakota. It is hard to believe that this band of Indians—under Chief Big Foot after Sitting Bull’s death—would have intentionally started a fight. Many speculate the 7th Cavalry’s action was deliberate—retaliation and revenge for the regiment’s defeat at the Little Bighorn.
History is written by the victors and regardless of which version you believe it is worth noting the plight of the Native American continues today. If we fail to acknowledge this present day fact we are doomed to relive it and guilty of this continued atrocity.
This is a very short and only slightly detailed bit of history. I highly recommend you read the book, “Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee” written by Dee Brown.
If you read “The Object of My Dejection” posted a few days ago you discovered it was a two part narrative. I have been told that, as a way to bring readers back, to leave the audience hanging. Not sure who said it and not sure if it works. Regardless, here is part 2.
I purchased my ’46 Dodge from my cousin this past summer and transported it to my house. My brother helped me with the move and I will mention here he put himself out while doing it because he was pressed for time; so was I for that matter. In effect we moved the truck from one garage to another. I do not regret making the purchase nor will I regret any amount of money or time expended on the project. However, the fact is I have little to no room in my garage to do this project any justice.
I have about 18 inches of available space on either side while in the garage
To do this right requires the body to be removed from the frame; essentially stripping this truck down to the bones and then some. Several scenarios went through my mind in an attempt to plan this out using a methodical approach.
I am mechanically inclined to a point. I am not, however, so mechanically inclined to do this right but I could not let the opportunity pass to rekindle the life of this precious truck. So, after a couple of months of thinking I came up with what I thought to be the perfect plan. So long as the truck stays in the family and is rebuilt to showroom condition I will have met my goal. So I decided to give the truck to my younger brother as I knew he would give the project the attention it deserved; plus he had the room and the tools to make it happen. Along with this I would be willing to expend most of the funds needed throughout the project.
Within a few days of purchase Tim was tearing into his Dodge.
I decided I would call him the next day and work a plan to get the truck to his place in Virginia. Alas, within an hour of making this decision I got a text message from him stating he had just purchased a ’46 (or maybe it was a ’47) Dodge truck as a project. I was floored. Had I made the decision the instant the thought came to mind all would have been well; but I waiting too long. Story of my life.
I still do not regret buying this truck and I still plan to bring it back to life. But I am saddened by the fact that it will set for an unknown amount of time before I do anything with it. I will never sell this truck. One way or another, this truck will always be in this family in honor of my Grandfather who, by his actions, taught me much.
At present I have no plans set in stone to start this project. I refuse to start until I am assured I can complete it. My initial goal is to get the truck running. I do not see that as a major accomplishment because the engine was re-built about a year or so before it went into storage at my cousin’s house. It will require a bit I’m sure, but do not, at present, see a need to tear the engine apart. The problem is the wiring and the body.
The engine was rebuilt a couple years before going into storage in my cousin’s garage; about 20 years ago.
The body is in very excellent shape considering the life it led. Back in the day all county roads were tarred and rocked each year so every car that drive those roads had a thick undercoating of tar which kept corrosion to a minimum. My first step, which I hope to accomplish this winter, is to replace tires, brakes, wheel and master cylinders, brake lines and brake linings; might also replace the drums if needed. As mentioned the body is solid but the rust around the windshield is extensive and will need some serious attention to reinstate some functionality—a body man I’m not.
The wring is the real problem. By that I mean I am not an electrical guy. The electrical components on a ’46 Dodge are not particularly complicated but all will certainly need to be replaced. Have yet to decide if I will convert to a 12 volt system or maintain the 6 volt configuration. I’m not wise enough to outline the pros and cons of 12 volt verses 6 volt.
Virtually every part is present, but not all work. All gauges need replaced and the floorboard will need replaced.
So, back to my original premise of, “The Object of My Dejection.” I have a classic truck to rebuild; plus #1. I have my grandfather’s truck; plus (major plus) #2. I have a place to store the truck without too much inconvenience; plus #3. I do not have sufficient space to work on the truck; minus #1. Most tools needed to accomplish my tasks are on hand; plus #4. I really do not have the time to give this project the dedicated time it deserves; minus #2. The original parts for this truck may be hard to find and very expensive; minus #3.
Of all of these plus and minus comments we can actually remove a couple from the list. For example I can remove the expense comment because I have always known a project like this would be expensive. I have also always known this would be a time consuming project so that one can go away as well. This leaves me with 4 pluses and 1 minus; so where is the dejection?
Maybe there’s not one. By definition “dejection” means sadness, and lack of hope due to great disappointment. If we use that as a foundation then I am good to go because I am not sad, nor do I lack hope. I am disappointed that I missed an opportunity to pass this truck to someone who would give it the attention needed, but in the grand scheme of things there are more significant acts from my past that are truly disappointing.
I think I will re -title this from “The Object of My Dejection” to “The Object of My Optimism.”
Considering the life of the truck it is in very good shape. We can only guess as to why one turn signal is higher than the other.
I’m also thinking this is part 2 of a very long series on my blog. I’ll need to give the series a new title. I like “The Object of My Optimism” but I don’t ring. I’ll need to work on that. Any suggestions for a title that is befitting the refurbishment of my Grandfather’s ’46 Dodge would be most appreciated.What do you think?
For whatever the reason, I think most guys want to rebuild a classic car. Whether that project results in a hotrod or a refurbishment into an original rendition is irrelevant. I’m no different. I have always wanted to rebuild a classic. Obvious obstacles to this desire are the cost and to a lesser degree the time involved. I say lesser because if you are going to do it right then the time needed is not the burden. The cost can be metered over time so that too can be controlled.
My 1970 El Camino
Sadly I’ve had classic cars in the past but did not know they were classic when I had them. I had a 1972 GTO as well as a 1970 El Camino. I would love to have either of these cars again; especially the El Camino. I purchased it for $1,000 and sold it three years later for $1,200 so, at the time, I thought I did well. Almost every day I think of that El Camino and regret my decision to sell it.
About a year ago I was speaking to one of my cousins and he asked if I knew of anyone who wanted to buy a Dodge truck. I’m not a Dodge fan so knew I was not interested but asked a few questions about the truck in the event I came across someone who might be in need of it. When he told me what year it was he got my full attention; it was a 1946. And, after he told me this was the truck my Grandfather purchased in 1947 my interest peaked and before he even mentioned a price I told him I would take it off his hands.
The ’46 Dodge when we pulled it from my cousin’s garage.
I remembered riding in this truck with my uncle when I was a child; my Grandfather did not drive anything other than a tractor. I sat in the middle with my uncle to the left and my Grandfather to my right.
My 1946 Dodge – Picture taken, we think, in 1948. Left to right: My Uncle Ed, My Mom and My Dad.
The truck has a colorful past spending the vast majority of its life as a farm truck and more often than not did not have a valid license plate. From the day my Grandfather purchased it the truck was bought and sold a number of times, but always stayed within the immediate family. For the past 20+ years it sat in my cousin’s garage waiting on his intent to rebuild it. The truck is 100% complete (and original) and considering its age and the life it led in very good condition. The price was better than right. After curiosity got the best of me I did some looking and found a number of ’46 Dodge trucks for sale. The cheapest I found on line had a price tag twice the amount I paid and had no engine or transmission and the frame was from a Chevy S10 variant.
OK, so thus far life is good. I have a classic in hand, paid very little for it and it is 100% complete and original. And to top that, this truck was my Grandfather’s truck. So, other than the fact that I sold the perfect classic car for $1,200, where does the dejection come in?
Well, you’ll have to wait for part 2 get that information.
