Fire and ice, and a dog. (Project 366)
January 21 – Home alone for the evening, lounging in front of the pellet stove.
January 22 – Cold day at work. This grew throughout the day. I kept waiting for the rig to hit it on the way out the door.
January 23 – My family says the dog is a good luck charm and she has to wear the shirt through the Superbowl. Cricket is not impressed.
January 24 – The Howe is finally safe at home. The trip was much longer and more expensive than planned. Details to follow.
That’s her older sister, Engine 2, in the background.
I sure wish I had those ladders.
From the Archives: Code Red
I found myself engaged in a bit of reflection today, for various reasons. Then I stumbled across this:
I haven’t seen that video in a long time. It looks so old now. I was in Providence attending college and buffing the PFD when it was filmed. In my heart the PFD will always run a fleet of classic Macks and Maxims. They purchased their last Mack, a 1991 CF with body by Ranger, when I was a sophomore. It’s retired now. The modern rigs may be better/faster/safer, but they don’t have the same class.
My local firehouse had a matched pair with custom Fox Point crests on their noses.
Its a calm night on the porch. In the back of my mind I can still hear Ladder 8′s old Maxim diesel roaring up Brook Street.
A tip of the hat to Michael Morse. I knew I’d seen that link somewhere recently.
Scrub-a-dub-dub
I’ve been going through the blog tonight, making sure it’s compliant with my employer’s current social media policy. I’m not sure if my standards had slipped, but HR’s seem a bit stricter. A few things were changed; some were removed.
It’s not an unreasonable policy, and it’s probably overdue for some enforcement. Basically it says be nice and mind everyone’s confidentiality. I can do that. Project 365 will be difficult to continue on the days I work, but I will just have to engage my creative side a bit more.
I love my job and my employer, so it’s worth doing. With over 500 posts, it may take a few passes to make sure I’m fully compliant. Although it is in the sidebar, I will reiterate the disclaimer here: the opinions expressed herein are mine alone and do not represent any employer past, present, or future. Details have been changed in the interest of confidentiality, and some things are pure fiction.
Now I’m off to police my Facebook timeline. I’m Mack505 and I approve this message.
Project 366 – January 17-19, 2012
January 17 – Thermodog. The fire looks much more impressive in motion than in still life.
July 18 – How to Piss Off Your Cat in 4 Easy Steps
January 19 – Plum Island. Shot on the iPhone with Camera Plus and a Holga filter.
As I sit here and type, the dog is doing it again at my feet. She’s a Tennessee girl, and I don’t think she really likes this New England winter stuff.
Censored
This blog is joining thousands of other sites across the Internet today in urging you to call your congressmen and senators. SOPA/PIPA as currently proposed would be a serious threat to your rights as an Internet user. It would allow the government to shut down any website without due process and with very little recourse.
Do the First and Fourth Amendments mean much to you? Freedom of speech, due process, unreasonable search and seizure; you know, little things like that?
SOPA/PIPA also has the potential to make YOU into a criminal by holding websites responsible for the content of sites to which they link. Do you have me in your blogroll? If I violate SOPA/PIPA, you could be going down with me.
Freedom of association – there’s another one of those pesky rights again.
PROTECT IP / SOPA Breaks The Internet from Fight for the Future on Vimeo.
I don’t often do politics here at NFMH, but I feel this one’s important. If you enjoy the Internet the way it is and think Washington should keep its hands off, call you congressmen and senators TODAY!
For more information, simply Google SOPA and/or PIPA.
Eight degrees (Project 366 – January 15-16)
January 15 – Seat heaters, engage! My TDI spent the night outside; unlike its ancestors it started and ran without a hiccup.
January 16 – it was still only 7F when I left work Monday morning. I caught this shot along the Plum Island Turnpike.
A NOTE FROM THE MANAGEMENT: My apologies if you have been getting blank photo posts. I just discovered that somehow one of my Picasa settings had been changed to Private. I could see the photos but no one else could. I’m not sure when/how it happened, but I’ve been having an awful time with the new Picasa interface imposed by Google Plus. Google, do you hear me? I want the old Picasa back!
Reunion IV
This is part four of a multi-part series. We took a brief detour, but when last we saw our heroes, they were grinding southward out of northern NH at about 25 MPH. . .
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The first long hill was interesting. I’d forgotten how underpowered these old trucks were. I was remembering quickly. We would get up this hill, but we’d do it in our own time.
The first few descents were interesting as well as I got the feel of her brakes and steering again. A big old truck demands defensive driving of the highest order, as you never want to trust that they will stop or turn as quickly as you expect.
Eventually we hit a good pace. The weather began to thicken into fog and drizzle, and I discovered the leak in the windshield. A gap in the rubber at the base meant that each left turn brought a spray of water on my face.
The previous owner had warned me that he ‘wasn’t too sure’ about the alternator. Neither was I. The voltmeter hovered just below 12 volts, and the ammeter was showing a slight draw. I couldn’t be sure if she wasn’t charging, or if the meters were just off slightly. I resolved to use the wipers and lights as little as possible and see how far we could go. I did have a spare battery after all.
The trip through Franconia Notch was surreal. I was driving a piece of personal and department history through some of God’s most beautiful country, yet I could barely see beyond the end of the hood.
At the foot of the Notch we stopped for food and fuel. As the gas gauge hasn’t worked in 25 years, this allowed me to calibrate for our trip. We were doing 6 MPG. One more gas stop should leave plenty to get home.
Back up on the highway we settled in at a comfortable 55 MPH. Climbing the hills wasn’t too bad. Oil pressure and temperature were holding fine, and voltage remained steadily just below 12. Vacuum reserves would drop on the long hill climbs but immediately come back as soon as I lifted the throttle slightly. Things seemed to be going well.
Then came the first thump. It sounded like I’d hit a piece of road debris. I hadn’t noticed any road debris. . . All the gauges still looked OK. Nothing looked wrong in the mirrors, and the chase truck wasn’t flashing its lights. Onward.
Just north of Tilton it all began to come apart, both figuratively and literally. Three things occurred almost simultaneously: I felt another thump accompanied this time by vibration, I saw something fly off behind me in the mirrors, and a motorist pulled up next to me honking and waving frantically. Thank you, sir, I can feel and see it.
Paradoxically as I slowed the vibration worsened. I couldn’t have blown a tire. The sound wasn’t loud enough, and the ride was still too smooth. I found that one of the rear tires had begun to disintegrate. It was still holding air, but it was throwing off large chunks of tread. This would not do.
We limped into a Walmart parking lot at the next exit, two hours from home and one hour from dusk.
Howe (P366 – 1/14/12)
The Howe still stands outside at the farm. We suffered a mechanical setback today. I hope it’s not as bad as it looks. In the ‘glass half full’ department, she broke before leaving the farm and did not leave me stranded on the side of a highway.
In any event, it now looks like another week minimum before I can get her home to a warm, safe garage.
Dropping names
He sits on our stretcher inside the Medic 9 looking slightly dazed. The firefighters and police officers have retreated to their respective vehicles, their part in our little drama now complete.
As I peel back the layers of sweatshirts to check his blood pressure, he fixes me with an alcoholic gaze. His eyes struggle to focus, and I’m reminded of my trusty Nikon trying to decipher a complicated scene. In, out, in. Bzzzt. Finally the image resolves itself into something coherent.
“I know Mike Smith,” he tells me.
Good for you, sir. ”And who might he be?”
“You know, the Smiths. They own this ambulance company.”
Oh, the SMITHS. Why didn’t you say so sooner? Of course, I know the Smiths too. One of them signs my check every week. I may never be invited to their home for dinner, but I’ve met them all and had conversations with them.
I’ve never heard of one named Mike. If there is a Mike in the family tree, he must be way out among the leaves.
“So do you drink with Mike Smith often?”
“Yup, every day.”
Uh-huh. Let’s go see the nice nurses at Local Suburban Hospital, shall we? I think they know Mike Smith too.
Beacon Ray (P366 – 1/11/12)
January 11, 2012 – The Federal Signal Beacon Ray.
I wish I’d had my polarizer with me as the sky was fabulous. Engine 3 is now legally registered to me and should be completing the trip home soon.
P366 may become a bit sporadic as I’m experimenting with some shooting on film. I’m still shooting, but I won’t get the instant gratification of digital.
