Muss’n and Fuss’n

Muss’n and Fuss’n

The summer of 2026 has been a huge disappointment. After last year’s health issue and the previous year’s hip replacement, I was ready for some riding this year. But it has been raining at least a couple of days per week the entire summer. The ground around my house has been a sponge for most of this summer and several places I can’t mow for fear my lawn tractor would sink for sure.

The rare days that prove to be perfect for riding or shooting and other enjoyable activities are stolen away in place of catching up on the mowing and the other chores.

My yearly average mileage on two wheels generally runs about eight to ten thousand miles per summer. This year’s mileage is a dismal less than half of that including the 1500-mile round trip this spring to my buddy in Tennessee. That trip included a day and a half of the two-day return trip in the rain.

But in between the rain days and the few rides I did manage to get in, I also rediscovered my joy in shooting competitively. Not to mislead anyone, I have always managed to get a few rounds of shooting in from time to time but this year my son has joined me again this summer in some good-natured competition and I even managed to get my wife to join me in an informal competition with the promise to continue to do so on the following month. But that day was a rain out as was the last steel shoot my son and I were to attend the following weekend.

One of the times I managed to make it to my range without rain was when my granddaughter wanted to learn to shoot her mother’s bolt action .223 rifle.

Targets were gathered as well as ammo and all the other accoutrements required for the task at hand and the four of us, granddaughter, son, son’s fiancée and me, packed ourselves and equipment into the truck and headed for the range located above our home on top of an old strip mine. A short up-hill climb requiring four-wheel drive.

Once things were set, I told my son he was the range officer today and with that I grabbed my ear protection and returned to the truck and just watched and listened making sure I kept my mouth closed and thoughts to myself. Too much information is confusing and frustrating to both shooter and range officer.

I watched and listened as Lewie explained the safety rules to Harlee as well as the parts of the gun, how to hold the gun, how to aim, and my personal peeves, a loaded round is not a bullet, and probably my biggest pet peeve a magazine is NOT A “CLIP”!

As I sat there in quiet pride and admiration I was taken back some twenty-five years or so ago when I was giving Lewie and my daughter Shyanne the same commands and explanations on this very same range. I realized then the torch has been passed.

And then there’s this…

Some time ago I began a search for a new truck to replace my 2016 Chevy Colorado.

It’s been a fairly good truck for me, but the Pennsylvania winters have begun to take their toll on it. Rust has been showing up on both the bed and cab with deep pits and bubbling paint. Both are precursors to holes.

My search revealed an eye-opening revelation, cost. A new truck with similar options is in the forty-thousand-dollar range and a used low mileage truck, if you can find one, is about the same price as mine was new. No way I was going to pay those prices! So, I considered an alternative. Mechanically the truck is sound and with only about seventy-five thousand miles on it, why not keep it? And if I’m going to keep it, why not customize it?

I’ve always liked the stake bed truck. They have a rugged ugliness about them that I admire. So, I decided to make mine into something I’ve always liked and being that my truck is a small half ton, it would be somewhat unique.

Arrangements were made with a local body shop to repair the rust on the cab body and remove the bed.

I found a local fabrication shop that builds utility truck beds and paid a visit to them. I explained to them what I wanted and asked them if that would be possible. They assured me it wouldn’t be a problem.

Two days ago, I picked up the truck from the body shop and drove it twenty or so miles to the fabrication shop sans bed. The shop had already built the stake bed for my truck and sent it off to be undercoated and painted. I should have my new old truck back in about four or five days.

One more thing…

I have to honestly admit I don’t mind being old, or a senior citizen, or a baby boomer or any other term for someone my age and older. Yes, there are the daily aches and pains one must endure and the health issues that spring up. But I enjoy the freedom.

I haven’t set my alarm clock in almost six years now and I don’t even know if I remember how, nor do I care.

But there is one part of growing old that I detest. That part is constantly saying “Good-Bye” to all the people who have guided you and helped you and just hung out with you.

This evening I will give my final goodbye to my friend Ed. Ed was a few years older than me and as a kid I looked up to him as another big brother. He took me hunting when no one else could. He gave me rides in his ’68 Camaro. He was a mentor to me. But mostly he was just there. Quiet and soft-spoken he had very little to say. He didn’t have to.