There is a lot I don't know about fire trucks! But since buying one, there's a lot less I don't know than I didn't know before I bought it. For instance, I didn't realize fire trucks got such bad gas mileage on long trips. But I do now. I may be getting ahead of myself here. Recall that I had just made the winning bid on a fire truck and was faced with several dilemmas, the direst of which was telling my wife about it. I'm here to admit that that was just an old blogger trick to hold your interest, like a "Who shot JR?" cliffhanger. So now that the whole nation is on the edge of its collective seat, I can reveal that it was not a dilemma at all. In fact, she was elated that I had bought the fire truck. She loves fire trucks.
It turns out, though, that what she loved best about this fire truck was that I bought it. And because I bought it, she could see no reason why she should not spend money to remodel two bathrooms and a bedroom. Now I don't have a thing against remodeling, but I do tend to resist spending money unless it is absolutely necessary, so purchasing the fire truck really required a reassessment of what things in life are absolutely necessary. It seems that while the need to own a fire truck is self-evident, there is more subtle evidence to suggest that remodeling is also a necessity from time to time. That's another thing I didn't know about fire trucks, but I surely do now.
With that dilemma cleverly averted, I was still charged with the administrative items and transportation. The administrative tasks, transferring money, acquiring insurance, transferring title, etc., were really more mundane than painful, but still mildly painful, in a mundane sort of way. Acquiring insurance taught me another thing that I didn't know about fire trucks but being familiar with insurance, as you are, I don't think I have to elaborate on that. So it all boiled down to transportation.
Once again, an obvious solution presented itself. Find someone to help drive, rent a car for the one way trip there, drive the truck back, what could be simpler? One might think that finding someone available to leave at a moments notice to help drive on a sixteen hundred mile journey might be a dilemma in itself. Not for me, because I am blessed. I have an angel, albeit an unlikely one, named Adam, who was in fact available, a pretty good driver, and young and healthy enough to deal with those situations that might arise on a long road trip that can be so challenging to an arthritic, heart attack survivor such as myself. With all dilemmas now cleared we set off with enthusiasm and excitement for the frozen climes of west central Minnesota.
I have intentionally neglected to mention our destination until now, but with good reason. I have relatives in both Minnesota and South Dakota. While I felt a serious obligation to pay visits, the nature of this trip, in my opinion, did not present the proper opportunity for fulfilling those obligations so I opted to keep the destination quiet trying to maintain peace in the family. But I realize now that no one really reads this anyway so hiding secrets here is like burying a dead fish underwater.
We left Claremore in the afternoon and arrived in the little town of Wadena, Minnesota, about lunch time the following afternoon. The paperwork transferred smoothly and finally we were at the fire house. The truck was still in service meaning that the water tank was full. Since the weather was below freezing, we opted to empty the tank for the trip. This allowed the opportunity to learn how the pumps worked and which lever to pull and when to pull it to get the water flowing. In that session, I learned a lot about fire trucks that I didn't know before. I also confirmed that I had certainly purchased a gem.
We left Wadena with the blizzard-of-the-century already ravaging Colorado. It was on an easterly warpath approaching the western side of the Dakotas heading straight for us. The plan, head south as fast as a fire truck could carry us. It turns out, that was pretty fast. We made it past the freeze line without getting snowed in but by the time we reached Kansas City, we were definitely in the pouring rain. I learned something about fire trucks and angels on that leg of the journey. I learned that it costs about a buck a mile in gas money to keep a fire truck moving at a fast pace over a long period of time. I learned that angels aren't always the gentle, smiling beings one sees mentoring little children on television programs. My angel, at least, seemed to have a more human reaction to having to climb on top of the truck in a 30 mph, 10 degree Fahrenheit wind to secure the hose protecting tarp that was about to blow off. I learned that angels know words that us mere mortals have no idea about. But all in all, there was just the right amount of excitement and tension to keep things interesting until our adventure concluded when we pulled into the driveway at Claremore. All unscathed, man, angel and truck. The truck had performed well. The man and angel, well, still talking at least, but you know how long road trips can take their toll even on angelic men and manly angels.
I was glad to be home. I was especially relieved that the truck had been transported without damage or incident, other than to my wallet. My wife was especially happy to see me, as was the remodeling contractor. Another thing I learned about fire trucks. No matter how much they damage your wallet, they will never be a match for a remodeling contractor.
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