10.20.21 End of one chapter and the beginning of yet another....

     Yep, so after the delusions left my brain that I was going to really be able to get the truck going again  it was time to post it on Facebook Marketplace. I posted full disclosure of what, when and where of the trucks demise. That was December 4, 2020. It has almost been a year and not much progress was ever made and it was time. A guy came and loved what he saw, gave me the full asking price, "No problem" and the next day off it went to Pennsylvania. 

     She came back to the house on December 5th and left October 18th. I was sad to see her go but I know that the buyers are really jazzed up about getting her all going and buttoned up again. I hope to see her back on the road one day. So that left me without a pick up, something that I really need and completes me as a complete man. Even if she didn't run, and just sat there for nearly a year, I still felt like the owner of a pick up truck. Again delusional. 

     About a month ago a man down the street from my house starting having yard sales, then garage sales, and then a take-all-sale. He is a roofer by trade and used to deal sheds and gazebos from his yard in Titusville. While picking through some stuff, and knowing he was retiring, downsizing and moving, I inquire about the shed and the white pickup. Well, after a week or so I got the call and the number and after kicking it around with the boss lady I agreed to purchase both. I have been on a Facebook Marketplace tear getting up the funds for the purchase. The shed is already in the yard and the truck 

delivery should be this week. The truck is a 2003 Chevy Silverado Duramax Diesel, surely enough to tow Jim's old boat, and of course help maintain any testosterone having a pick-up does for me. The shed is a Godsend, we not having any garage or other structure on the property. My goal is to get "Tobacco Road" as my wife calls it, all organized and covered by the winter. But, truth be told, that 8 x 10 old shed ain't going to do it alone. 

     And just to time stamp and have a reference when and if my kids read this blog after I croak Erica and I went to the Giant's game this past weekend. I haven't watched any sports since the shenanigans last year as the participant entertainers became the toll tender of morale and political correctness in thew world. One take away besides a good time with Erin was the amount of resources and money that is spent to have a sporting event. In my humble opinion, give me a couch and big screen TV and lots of snacks and cold beer and I'd be set, if I ever get back to watching sports again. 

     And then there's always the possibility with me of the start of something new. Well, this may just be full circle. In 1992 I started at Essex County College in Newark taking pre-requisites in order to enter the nursing program, which I did and graduated in 1995. (That's me in the back row with the big white head.) Well, after two years of running a private practice my ADHD has kicked in enough for me to explore another path, possibly. I'm currently in the process of risk vs gain in accepting a nursing teaching position at the college of my youth. Full-time, real deal, a commitment. We'll see, I have a few days to pull the trigger or not. 

     But in going to Essex County College I traveled through the streets of Newark, where I spent nearly 20 years there in part living there and working for the Newark Fire Department and University Hospital EMS. It's a place I call home and is very near and dear to my heart. I cut my teeth in that city, not only in two branches of emergency services, but into adult and manhood as well. It was sad to see the 

firehouse where I worked for about a year after I got promoted to Captain in 2002. This was the home to Engine 12 and Truck 5 on Irving Turner Boulevard, better known as Belmont Avenue. Funny thing is, besides the boarded up window and doors, it hasn't changed much, but the neighborhood has for sure. I left the city after the interview not sure if I was returning home to stay for a while again, or should I just keep driving straight and not turn around and let Newark, and all the years and memories, be just that, a mix of highs and lows, trials and tribulations, and the pains of several chapters whose endings were written by others.