Y ‘know, I could weave quite the story about yesterday and the moments surrounding the sale of our motorhome. Like Deb not having a particularly good feeling about the prospective buyer while messaging with him earlier in the day. Or meeting his sweet elderly mother, who accompanied him to the showing and followed him home.
I could describe colorfully the quest to find a notary after business hours. And I could share my thoughts about the buyer, who’d never driven anything like a 32,000-pound diesel-pusher motorhome with air brakes, piloting one a hundred miles into the mountains, in the dark, in the rain.
But I won’t. Our time with Ernie — two years, ten months — is a word already spoken. That chapter is closed.
Starting today, we move on to the next.
The sound of gentle rain on the RV’s roof last night was a tonic, silencing the thoughts racing through my head. Walking out into the wet and the mist brought still more peace.
It may sound strange, but the dense fog wrapping The Mountain carried a sense of clarity. The rain washed away what came before, leaving the canvas of our Life cool and clean and ready.
Until now, I’ve never lived in a place where I don’t have to go looking for solace. Here, peace seeks me out. It’s all around.
Especially when it rains.
The tires we took off of the SilverSilverado the other day were Coopers. They were, without a doubt, the best street tires I’d ever had under me — grippy and predictable, they let me drive my truck as hard as I pleased on these winding Ozarkansas roads.
But they were still 4-ply passenger-car tires. Though they’d served us well for all the highway driving we did, the way we use the truck these days demands more.
I stayed with Cooper, but I chose 10-ply LTs and went up a size — from 265/60R18 to 275/65R18, a little taller and a little wider. Their harder compound and more aggressive tread are better suited to the gravel roads and dirt tracks we often travel, albeit at the expense of fuel economy (maybe one or two mpg).
Now with a couple of hundred miles on these tires, both pavement and dirt, I like ’em a lot. I’m running 36psi to start with, and I’ll fiddle with that to figure out what works best.
One more thing — that tire inflator we picked up in November, originally meant for the Ranger but transferred to the truck, proved its worth on Monday. I recommend getting one and carrying it.
People who know me well are familiar with my contention that we’d all benefit from a more deliberate pace, pausing to take a breath from time to time. Slow is fast. If you’re inclined to jump immediately from one completed task into the next opportunity, then you and I are not the same.
This wasn’t exactly a “breather day.”
We had errands to run — transfer station, post office, gas, groceries, insurance agent, all pretty routine stuff. Deb, excited with our new ability to go full-speed ahead on all things cabin, called the electrician and the well guy and the backhoe guy. Potentially we’re looking at activity on the homesite as early as tomorrow.
What’s more, she found a screamin’ deal on a seven-cubic-foot chest freezer at Lowe’s. She bought it online, and we were off to Mountain Home to pick it up.
While we were in the neighborhood we visited Mountain Milling, a small lumber yard and sawmill tucked behind the big-box stores. It deals primarily in rough-cut red cedar, including live-edge slabs, and tongue-in-groove stock.
The owner of the operation gave us his full attention and answered our questions with justifiable pride. His products are top-quality, his prices more than reasonable.
Deb and I came away impressed, agreeing that we’ve found the source of much of the wood that’ll cover our cabin’s interior walls.
On our return drive west, we detoured to White River Firearms for a few boxes of ammo and a long conversation with the owner of that shop. It’s such a pleasure dealing with these small businesses, everywhere we go.
I unloaded the day’s haul back at The Mountain, including the still-boxed deep-freeze, which I placed carefully in the spot Deb had assigned it.
Tomorrow there’s fresh water to fetch, tanks to dump, much more brush to clear (which I’m sure I won’t get to again anytime soon), and countless other tasks that accompany our homesteading efforts. And that’s not counting working on the cabin.
I have no complaints. I wouldn’t trade this Life for anything.
Take care of yourselves, Patriots. Stay calm. Stay sharp. Stay free.
#WiseUp #LibertyOrDeath
#LetsGoBrandon #FJB
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