Welcome the 2024 Hay Holiday Letter of Truth!
The holiday letter of truth about the past year. This year it is all about blood.
New Kid On The Block (January)
The year started off with our second grandchild’s birth, Zaid, born January 15. We initially thought “Stitch” would be his nickname because Lilah and Stitch. Ultimately Stitch didn’t stick and applies to me, as you will soon see. Zaid is a CHUNK, and after eleven months of non-stop eating seems to weigh as much as his five-year-old sister. He was six weeks early and a tiny little preemie in the Infant ICU. He started sucking down the milk and has not let up on the growing. Zaid has the biggest smile I have ever seen and is just a cutey.
The End. Have a great 2025!
Smirk.....
Slow Your Roll (February)
Friend Tyler and I were riding motorcycles way out in the desert outside Tucson/Marana on a beautiful perfectly formed dirt road through some of the most luscious saguaro and Sonoran Desert flora I have ever seen (Owl’s Head Road). It was simply mesmerizing, and we were having a great time. Doing about 55mph, close to twice what I should have, drunk on the weather and scenery, I went over a crest on a hill that also corresponded with an unseen turn. Half airborne, brake action and ability to turn are limited I find, especially in loose dirt at an off-camber turn. Tried to aim for the edge of the road and make like a banked turn at a race track to bounce back into the road, but it was exceptionally soft dirt and the front tire instantly dug in and I did a Superman right over the front. The bike cartwheeled down the road to the left. I instantly landed upside down in the same soft dirt, no rolling, no skidding, just fly-fly-fly PLOP. Thank goodness for all the protective gear including back protector and chest guard. No damage to me other than very sore ribs for a few weeks and some pain medication and muscle relaxant at Urgent Care. Rode the bike out with one broken turn indicator, some dirt and rocks between tube, tire and rim (out of balance but not flat), and a partially tweaked rear sprocket. Caption by Tyler:
Death By (To) Camping World (March-June)
Rachel and I bought a small used camping trailer sight unseen at a dealer in Las Vegas, went down to pick it up and did a multi-stage complete counterclockwise USA circumnavigation. Sparing you details, and there were many, it was more than six months before we got the actual vehicle title. Let us just say it involved the Nevada Attorney General, threats, letters, phone calls, CampingWorldSucks Facebook group, Camping World corporate, and finally the Washington State DOL that got the job done. After they failed to fix several problems with the trailer that they claimed to have fixed, it was repaired at an independent RV shop in Tucson for only $75. Best $75 ever spent. #campingworldsucks
Griswold Grimace
Also in Tucson, we had a check engine light in the truck scanned and was told it was a piece of carbon on a sensor and the light is out now and don’t worry about it, that will be 100 bucks please. ”I’d like the sensor replaced since we are going on a ten-thousand-mile trip pulling a trailer and don’t want a breakdown”. Nah, you are good, have a nice trip.
And so we left.
It Just Got Dark
After Tucson, Hill Country in Texas was the next major stop and we saw exactly nothing of the eclipse in the spot that was supposed to have the best chance of having clear skies in the entire country. It was cloudy, and it got dark, the animals stopped making noise, then a few minutes later it got light again. Talk about anti-climactic! Not at all like 2017 which I really enjoyed. We had our bicycles in the truck and that was fun, and my friend Gary flew down with his sons to hang out with us at San Antonio Riverwalk and The Alamo----at least as far as I can remember. See what I did there?
It Was A Dark And Stormy Night
After the EclipseFail we thought OK let’s go the beach! Texas beaches are supposed to be great! Rachel found a state park with beach front campground on the Texas/Louisiana border just outside Port Arthur. In case you ever wanted to go to Port Arthur, well, just do not. This park was about twenty miles out of town past fifteen miles of oil refineries, at the end of a single dead-end road. Nothing like miles of oil refineries to put you in a mood for more nature. One way in and one way out of the entire area.
We rolled in well after dark, dodging thunderstorms in Houston on the way and just left the truck and trailer connected and went to bed. Around 5am Rachel woke up, as she is wont to do, because the wind was rocking the trailer, and the rain was coming down fast. She started looking at weather radar on her phone and woke me up cause big things were happening. Next thing I know I am fully awake when our phones absolutely lit up at full volume.
Emergency Alert
National Weather Service:
TORNADO WARNING in this area until 5:45 AM CDT. Take shelter now in a basement or an interior room on the lowest floor of a sturdy building. If you are outdoors, in a mobile home, or in a vehicle, move to the closest substantial shelter and protect yourself from flying debris.
Rain coming down now harder than I have ever experienced, and the trailer was shaking violently. We went outside to talk to other campers and see what was happening and where to go. There were two buildings: Park administration building (ranger gone), but it was a mobile home, and a tiny concrete block toilet building and shower. There were about forty people now running for the outhouse. Trailer was still attached to the truck because we arrived so late, and was shaking so bad (with us inside) I was afraid it would flip. We gave up any thought of staying dry and went out in the heavy rain and wind and somehow disconnected vehicles and got in the truck, sacrificing trailer-with-no-title to be taken by the wind.
We slowly drove to the vicinity of the bathroom and watched people cramming inside. Hearing the roar of the tornado, we knew it was getting close. Rachel says are we going in? All I could muster was unfiltered stream of consciousness as the crippling fear really started to hit us; the reality of being trapped by the incoming tornado in complete darkness with the only road out leading directly toward the storm. “I feel good in the truck just sitting here,” I managed. That quickly changed. Shit was getting REAL.
Over the roar of the deafeningly loud impending tornado, and the shockingly heavy rain I screamed, “I DONT WANT TO DIE AT 5AM IN A TEXAS SHITTER WITH STRANGERS, I'LL TAKE MY CHANCES IN THE SURF!!” I was ready to open the door and bolt for the beach. Rachel more calmly suggested she felt better in a heavy truck with airbags and seat belts. And there we sat. The tornado went by us, just barely missing. Almost immediately I thought this needs to go in the Christmas letter. And so, it is.
It did hit parts of Port Arthur unfortunately, and we went to check some of it out the following morning. Flattened a church, took out some trees, roofs, and powerlines. The trailer never so much as moved or leaked a drop of water. Camping World Bought, Tornado Tested Tough!
She's just sitting there mere hours after storm relaxed and calm: "IS THAT ALL YOU GOT BITCHES?!"
Black Plague
The next morning the weather was beautiful, and the mosquitoes came out. By evening it was a mosquito invasion. They were everywhere, inside and outside. They would just alight on any surface, like a mottled paint job. Rachel was absolutely possessed, hunting, killing, smack-smack, smackety smack smack smack. For hours. We could not keep them out. They exploited every tiny opening in the trailer, as if it were all personal. I really thought we were going looney. While the mounting mosquito carnage and amount of smeared blood stains looked like a small-scale crime scene, it was just like holding back the tide. AC on full to fight the humidity and heat, windows closed, heads completely under blankets, bathing in Deet, mosquitoes swarming, not able to sleep. It was hell. We wanted to be somewhere, anywhere but there. The following day we packed up and drove to New Orleans, left the truck and trailer in a storage yard, and flew home to Seattle for ten days.
Big Easy
We flew back to N’awlins and spent a few days in a hotel, because we were still mentally fried. It was such a wonderful luxury. And just like that, the reprieve was over. Rachel stepped in a buried fire ant colony at the storage yard right after we left the hotel.
Florida was next and we went to our friend Jack’s and he had a brand-new casita in Duval County for us to stay in. Rachel started having bad stomach pains and had three separate Urgent Care/ER visits over the period of about five days in Florida.
Medical stuff just shows our age, so gonna keep moving here. Oh wait, maybe not, more medical incoming:
Big Bloody
Meanwhile in Florida in between hospital visits we went to Boca without the trailer to visit more friends and I had an even more “urgent” issue that required “care”. While using the facilities at Cara’s house I noticed blood where it should not have been. Something was on my junk! It did not hurt but was stuck. Prying it off I saw tenticles and we googled it. Lone Star tick. Not dangerous, but gross beyond gross and how the heck did it get THERE? It is a thing in Florida when you wear shorts. Two days later, Rachel got one, but not so strategically positioned. It was so romantic, prying ticks off each other and googling them. And to answer the inevitable question, no, it does not spread like that. Sorry no pictures.
Go North Old Man
Savannah, Smoky Mountains, North Carolina/Virginia Civil Rights Trail, and tearing it up on electric bikes in DC and New York City was the next phase---and visit Blade and Hannah in Brooklyn. No catastrophes. Many adventures. Left truck and trailer in New York City to get a break and flew home again to do errands and doctor appointments. Came back several days later and went with the fam and grandkids to Delaware Water Gap for a wedding. Beautiful! As an aside, I thought this Pocono mountains area at Jersey/PA border (Stroudsburg) and Harper’s Ferry, West Virginia were both more impressive than The Great Smoky Mountains, which to me are overrated, like Acadia NP. I’ll take my scenery west please.
Bring It On Home
Went to Buffalo and camped on Memorial Day. By now we were just plain getting tired of being on the road. All the rowdies were there at the park, with fireworks and campfires and parades and crowds and parties. We took off for Niagara Falls, Canada for the night to get away from ‘Murikka. Plans for going to Michigan UP, Ohio etc, just faded and we put the hammer down westbound and pulled an all-nighter to get past Chicago before it woke up. By the west side of Chicago power was reduced in the truck and the check engine light was on again. After a few stops in Iowa and Nebraska we limped the truck into Custer in the Black Hills, South Dakota, and spent a few days there. Awesome of course, because west of Mississippi. Meanwhile a dude attempted a repair by cleaning sensors again since he didn’t have parts ----we can get parts from Rapid if you got a week. Yeah no. The cleaning worked for 150 miles or so, power and mileage came way down in Wyoming and so we just drove it home over the next three days. Turns out the same sensor I wanted replaced months ago in Tucson was resulting in a bad fuel mixture and it trashed both the mileage and catalytic converters (yes two). $4400, three sensors and two cats later we were fixed up. Well, until we weren't, but I aint got time for that.
Houses With Dad (July)
Daughter JP put together an incredible spreadsheet of houses dad had built and remodeled (many with me) to tour. Dad and I spent about a week this past summer driving to see them. He was blown away with the legacy of it all, and how all these years and owners later they are serving as well-loved houses for people and worth ten or twenty times what they paid for them. It was surprising how some looked the same and were instantly recognizable, others we drove past and didn’t recognize the street, much less the house. Some hung together incredibly well architecturally and others just hideous. All different eras, locations, and price points made such a huge variety. Some had had additions and changes that were positive and jaw droppingly intelligent, while some had been neglected so badly it was a shame. Two were painted bright blue---and they pulled it off, so more power to ya! We stopped and talked to six or eight of the owners, and got tours, which was super fun. South Bellevue Blue 1977 and Sammamish circa 1991 pictured
Gunshot and Stabbing Wounds
I’m not much of a gun person, but was offered to go target shooting in late November. It’s been a while since I have had bad ringing in my ears, so why not? Doubled up hearing protection I’m good to go, and why take stuff to Goodwill when you can just shoot it? Using the .22 it all was good. I was then offered a 30.06 with a dialed in scope. Never shot a gun that large. Aim an inch and a half low from 75 yards I was told, the barrel is cold. “Oh wait, Darrell, keep your eye away from the scope for kickback”, he said. Ok makes sense, so I backed away an inch. I didn’t put the back of the rifle into my shoulder because it was sore; I clearly was not paying attention during assassin movies.
Fired and that inch just gave the scope room to travel right back into my head. Blood everywhere and three stitches later I was good to go. My sniping and modeling careers both tanked that day. I totally got the shot, exactly an inch and a half below the center bow of the red present in the “H” of Christmas, and got a nice red scar directly center on forehead.
More Blood (December)
I was doing some small repairs, replacing a pinched condensate drain hose to be specific, and had just bought a new utility knife. The hose was not going onto the fitting well, so I used a couple shots of WD-40 to persuade it. It went on well, but damnit, it is about an inch too short now. Plenty of hose left, I’ll just cut another longer section, while I finish this phone conversation. I have done this a million times, I don’t need to hold the hose, that’s why I have a thumb!
Note to self: One handed cuts toward yourself while holding phone, fingers lathered in WD-40 with sharp knife results in fillet-of-thumb. It bled, and bled, and bled some more. I wasn’t going to go to Urgent Care, I had just been a week ago and hadn’t even gotten the stitches out, what am I, Rachel, with really good healthcare?! I have a $9000 deductible FFS. After an afternoon of sitting and elevating, I got the bleeding stopped and each time I changed the dressing it started bleeding again. Which is a pretty apt metaphor for the year.
Bring me some 2025
