Category Archives: fire

Billboards

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My company stresses appearances.

This is not necessarily a bad thing. I drive a large ambulance with bright stripes, lots of flashing lights, and a two-foot high corporate logo on the side. It’s a rolling billboard. Everything I do in it reflects on me and my coworkers. No matter how pure our motives, if we look like idiots while doing our job there will be trouble. At best there may be a complaint; at worst we could be the next YouTube sensation and star in our own Firegeezer post.

This carries over into my personal life. I’m proud of who I am and what I do, but I don’t feel the need to broadcast it 24/7/365. Sometimes it’s good to be just another guy in the crowd. I have become very conscious of when and where I wear department apparel. My cars are subtle; while I do have red lights in my truck, they are hidden when not in use. I don’t drive around sporting a light bar or a bunch of extra antennas. The car wears a W6 decal and that’s it.

This all comes about because you never know who might be watching.

So if you are going to have a $4,000 light bar and 3 antennas on your personal vehicle, please don’t drive like an idiot on the way to your next call. What would ever possess you to add a distinctive vanity license plate like PARAGD, MEDIC9, ENGN51, or (God forbid) your unique county radio ID?!

I say again: if you insist on standing out from the crowd, be on your best behavior. DON’T BE AN IDIOT!!!

Because, you know, that guy in the non-descript gray pickup that you just cut off might know a thing or two about the right way to do your job. He might even know your chief.

Retro

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As mentioned previously, I’ve been shooting a bit on real film. I learned photography on a manual 35mm camera, shooting and developing my own film. Sometimes it’s fun to go back.

 

January 12 – At the firehouse. You don’t see folding controls very often, but even when folded these barely clear the doors.

 

January 13 – ALS

Shot on a Nikon FM2 with 50mm manual lens. Thanks to OldSchoolPhotoLab.com for developing and scanning for me. Not many folks can handle Tmax 400 any more.

Fire and ice, and a dog. (Project 366)

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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.

Reunion IV

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 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. . .

—————

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.

 

The fog of life

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Slightly less than a year ago, I departed for my first shift of 2011 through thick fog. It broke dramatically that morning, signifying hope and promise.  
 
If I try to be objective it was a decent year. 362 days later I’m still working a good job with a good employer, my family and I are healthy, and our finances are in better shape than they were a year ago. Second grade is going fabulously!  

 
Emotionally it’s been rough though. Mrs. Mack505 suffered the loss of two family members. My Public Safety family has been rocked with multiple losses, both on duty and off.  
 
I was not there personally, but I was on duty and listened live as a firefighter lost his life. I’ve held my breath with each subsequent radio transmission and felt the ice in my gut as it became apparent what was happening. I’ve looked into the eyes of the crew who worked to save him, and of the good friend he relieved at shift change that morning. I can happily go the rest of my life without ever repeating that experience, thank you. 
 
The fog returned this morning, bookending the year in gray. Goodbye, 2011. It’s a new day tomorrow, and I’m on duty at the best job in the world. 
 
Stay tuned.

Light a candle

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So the shortest day came
And the year died,
And everywhere down the centuries
Of the snow-white world
Came people singing, dancing,
To drive the dark away.

They lighted candles in the winter trees;
They hung their homes with evergreen;
They burned beseeching fires all night long
To keep the year alive.
And when the New Year’s sunshine blazed awake
They shouted, revelling.

Through all the frosty ages you can hear them
Echoing, behind us – listen!
All the long echoes sing the same delight,
This shortest day,
As promise weakens in the sleeping land;
They carol, feast, give thanks,
And dearly love their friends,
And hope for peace.

–Susan Cooper

It’s been a rough year and a rough month for my little corner of the public safety world. I count 6 deaths and 3 serious injuries this month alone. Things are feeling pretty dark around here today with the news of Peabody firefighter Jim Rice killed in the line of duty.

Carpe diem. Cherish the time with your families. Say those “I love you’s” and “I’m sorry’s.” Read the NIOSH reports and learn from them. Work out, eat better, watch your partner’s back. Wear your PPE, stop at stop signs, and don’t drive like an idiot.

Light those candles, shout, sing, and live for the day.

Rest in peace Patti, Sarah, Jon, Jim, Frank, Robert, Tim, and Kristen.


And thank you, Phil, for forwarding the poem when I needed it. Serendipity. . .

Worcester, again

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A little over a week ago it began as just another day at work.  
 
Yesterday it ended with thousands of firefighters, a hundred bagpipes, and the obligatory television cameras.  
 
 

(turn your speakers all the way up)

Career or volunteer, big city or small town, FDNY or Oquossoc, ME; when the tones drop we all accept the same risks. We all feel the same pain when one of us doesn’t make it home. 
 
I met a few old friends and missed meeting a lot more. I rubbed shoulders with the Chief of Fire from Syracuse, NY and with jakes from the ‘hood in DC. We were the proverbial Sea of Blue in support of our brothers and their families in Worcester. I hope we did them proud.  
 
Rest in peace, FF Davies.

Make it stop!

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Sunday night we were in a Christmas mood at work.  We dug the tree out of storage, hung the lights, and took a few embarrassing photos for Facebook.  Then we started to notice the updates.
 
A Fallon ambulance was struck head-on on the other side of our metropolitan area.  We followed live on FB, Twitter, and the Internet radio stream as the events unfolded.  I listened as the crew was airlifted to Big City hospitals.
 
Overnight a NH State Trooper crashed his cruiser and was seriously injured along with his K9.  I saw the crash site in my travels before I knew what happened.
 
Monday morning, a police sergeant in one of our cities was struck on the highway.  He was seriously injured but is recovering in Big City Trauma Center.
 
Wednesday night, a Worcester firefighter was killed in the collapse of a burning three-decker.  John Davies, a 17 year veteran, was searching for a missing civilian when he and his partner were trapped.  His partner survived.
 
Services are next Thursday.
 
This evening I learned that FF Sarah Fox of Portsmouth, NH, lost her hard-fought battle with cancer this week.  I’m not feeling much holiday spirit right now.
 
Tomorrow is a new day. . .

Reunion II

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This is part 2 of a multipart series. If you missed the beginning, you might want to check out part 1.  
 
So it was off to northern NH to retrieve the Howe. The current owner said she’s been well maintained and should be ready for the long trip home, but antique trucks can be full of surprises. I loaded the pickup with every possible supply and tool I could conceive of needing: oil, coolant, brake fluid, jumper cables, spare charged battery, air compressor with hoses and chuck, extension cords, fuel stabilizer, lead substitute, Marvel Mystery Oil, and an assortment of basic tools.  
 
Captain Murphy often rides with me. (I know he’s at least a captain because I’m a lieutenant, and Murphy outranks me.). Whatever breaks, it will be the one thing I didn’t consider. That’s why I also carry the number of a good heavy towing service.  
 
The GPS says it’s a 3 1/2 hour trip up. It’s pretty accurate, but it translates to a 5 hour return trip at 1963 speeds. It’s gray, foggy, and threatening rain, but at least the weather is still unseasonably warm.  
 
My first glimpse of her is in her owner’s driveway. We round a corner, and there she is at the top of a small rise. The last 18 years have not been kind to her, but I’ve aged a bit as well. Her body is not as good as I had hoped, but it’s much better than I had feared. If the mechanicals are intact, I can work with this.  
 
They seem to be OK. She starts quickly and idles well. Her original siren is missing, but I know where it is. Her original seat has been replaced with buckets, but they seem comfortable. She’s lost her 35′ extension ladder, and her nicely matched set of chrome suction hoses has been replaced with a ratty mixed set. The brakes need bleeding. I hope that’s all; it may be a bad master cylinder. The tires are iffy, and I’ll need to find and repair that exhaust leak. And I’m sorry, East Haven, but the lettering job is ugly. It will have to go. Some of the original paint may yet survive under it, though.  
 
In summary she needs a fair amount of work, but it’s not insurmountable. We take care of the formalities, and then I’m off.  
 
It’s a blast from the past. Low revving, lots of torque, lots of noise; but she doesn’t seem as hard to drive as I remember. Perhaps I’ve grown up, or perhaps it’s the lack of a deputy chief watching me from the right seat.  
 
It takes less than a mile for me to realize the first tool I’ve forgotten: duct tape. Fortunately there is a hardware store next to the gas station. With a full tank of gas/Stabil/lead substitute mixture, and with the headliner taped securely out of my field of vision, we begin the long hard climb south out of town on US 3.