This morning I slept in a bit (especially for me) and did not rise until about 0730h. Heh… As I made coffee, I let The Girl out. With my coffee ready, I sat at my desk and she ran back in and to her mat under my desk. As I finished my first mug and started preparing the second, she asked to go back out. So, I reopened the doors and finished putting me coffee on to steep. (I use an Aeropress.)
I stepped back outside to find her sunning. The light was lovely, so I ran back into the house, grabbed the Nikon D750 from the kitchen table, checked the battery, and ran back out. I squatted at about the right distance and made a few captures. I think I like this one the best.
We finished our morning routine and then loaded up to head out for a hike. The left front signal lamp burned out yesterday afternoon, so I stopped at AutoZone thinking I could buy a replacement, but with a LED lamp. There was no joy, so we crossed the street to O’Reilly and I picked up a two-pack of 1156A halogen bulbs and an air filter for the 4Runner. Then we headed up the hill.
We had a great hike, with me chatting with a ham buddy partway. The weather was spectacular and I am loving the fall feeling that we have at the moment. On the way back to the rig, I thought “I should see if I can make the change with the tools I have on hand.”
So I retrieved my tool roll from its crate, grabbed the knee pad, and turned the front wheels to the right, full stop. I then began the process of removing the inner fender liner and found I needed a pry bar to separate the line from the fender. So I returned to the back of the rig and fetched the large tool roll (mostly cheap Harbor Freight tools, yuck). There I extracted a flat-point stubby and used it to separate the liner from the fender. I then reached into the well and unfastened the lamp socket. It was easy to replace the bulb and only a little fiddly to replace the socket into the housing. Reinstalling the fender liner was a little fiddly, but eventually all the screws were back into place.
I did remember to function check before buttoning everything up. I’ve been there (before), done that, and did not collect a T-shirt.
I was hungry on the way back to the house and decided that a BLT would be good. (I need a grocery run.) I pulled in to the Red Hut, got Sera’s vest out (“In Training”), and prepped her to go in with me. Red Hut traffic was light and she needs the reps. We were seated quickly at my choice of booths and she went under the table with just a little encouragement. (She likes the back corner better than the front corner, it seems.)
The BLT was good (actually, it was a BLTC — with cheese) and I boxed up some of the bacon and the remaining fries for her treat, once she was out of vest. We returned to the rig and I gave her her treat.
As I was about to leave, a young man with cross-clipped red hair and a well-trimmed red beard approached.
“Would you be happening to be going by The Nugget?”
I shook my head “no” and shrugged. He trotted off.
I have a thing about unknown contacts. Any time a stranger approaches the element of risk increases. One can never know another’s intention and I am more distrustful of people now than I have ever been. It is not paranoia; it is a sign of our troubled times.
As I watched him hurry across Clearview Avenue, I heard that small voice in the back of my head say “You could give him a ride. It is not far out of your way.”
I have heard that voice before. I think it is the Holy Spirit telling me that there is something I should do to help another and that it is OK.
So I started the rig, crossed Clearview, and crossed the parking lot. I intercepted him and offered him a ride to The Nugget. Sera hopped into the back seat and he climbed in. I asked “Are you late for work?”
“No, I have an interview at 2:30 and I don’t think I can make it in time. I’d also be sweaty and that’s not how to show up for an interview.”
“Gotcha.”
“Thanks man, I really appreciate this.”
“No worries.”
Sera clambered up on the console between us. She gave no indication of anything awry and I had a peace about giving a man a ride. We chatted a little on the way, he asking about my equipment on the dash.
A few minutes later I pulled around on the north side of The Nugget (off Carson Street, the main drag) and stopped at the curb.
“Thanks man!” he said as he started out. I offered my hand and he took it. “Break a leg and good luck with the interview. Get the job!”
He grinned and took off. I hope he gets the job.
Sometimes I hear that voice that tells me I should do something. It always feels right.
It is a good day. Life is good.