’Twas not my best day. An apple harvest truck had a flat tire, and the best the truck shop had to offer was on the scene. They were having difficulties getting the wheel nuts loose so they could replace the defunct tire with a good one.

I had been lazy. It had been two-and-a-half oil changes since I changed the fuel filter on my good old 2006 Dodge diesel pickup.

January – at least the days are starting to get longer. The comings and goings of yours truly and the old yellow hay truck in January depended on the hay market. Some years, it paid to haul from southern Idaho to the Portland, Oregon, and Seattle, Washington, areas.

Quips and quirks of personality are what make us individuals and not breathing robots. (Some even say I have a few of my own.) What’s more interesting than the quips and quirks is how an individual came by them. I met Leo Ritthaler in the late ’70s or early ’80s.

Repair No. 1 Sometimes just getting the truck home under its own power counts as a suitable roadside repair. The venerable SQHD rear axles were bulletproof behind the 220 Cummins engine and the 6-71 Detroit engine which were the standard for power when the SQHD showed up.

’Twas a bright sunshiny day, so this happened sometime between the snow seasons. I-84, westbound a few miles east of Biggs Junction, which is about a hundred miles east of Portland, Oregon, Leo and I were on our way to the Portland area, each driving a truck and trailer loaded with hay.

I survived, among other things over the years, riding home from Preston, Idaho, 16 miles to Mink Creek atop bagged grain that was loaded in the back of Dad’s 1948 or ’49 Ford F-3 pickup.

“First, it’s gotta be dark outside,” is the punchline of the joke that starts, “How do you pick a good watermelon?” It refers to the practice of stealing watermelons after dark.

“I could have ….”
“I would have ….”
“I should have ….”
“If only I had known ….”