the good news is

The good news is: I don't have to worry about mice in the truck anymore!

The less-good news is: I no longer have a truck.

I took the 2004 Highlander in for an inspection sticker last month, expecting to hear that I'd need new wipers or a parking brake cable or some such, and hoping it wouldn't be anything very costly. Instead, the mechanic who does the inspections came back in about 3 minutes, handed me the keys, and said, "You can't drive that." Apparently there was major deterioration beneath the rear half of the truck, and it wasn't safe to drive at all, even the 4 miles to get home.

Perhaps suspecting that I had every intention of driving home, the mechanic disappeared into the back and the owner, who I've known for many years, came out, offered me a ride home, and said that if I left the truck with him for a few days he would find time to put it on the lift and see what could be done. He knows I go to great lengths to keep my vehicles running as long as possible. Whenever I have to shop for a vehicle - a process I consider about as enjoyable as choosing health insurance - I always book a pre-purchase inspection at this garage. There is no point in buying something this fellow doesn't want to maintain.

Well, when I picked up the phone a few days late, I heard, "Start shopping. The front end is as bad as the back, and even if I could find parts, which is unlikely, the work would be prohibitively expensive."

Welcome to Massachusetts, land of salted roads in Winter, and rust all year round.

My default reaction when something breaks beyond repair, is to first step back and consider whether I really need a replacement at all. How much do I really need it? Can I get by without it? Sometimes "doing without" seems like the better choice, sometimes not; when the dishwasher broke, I didn't last a week.

For the past few weeks I've been alternating between an unenthusiastic online search for a replacement vehicle, and pondering whether I can get by without owning a vehicle. It's not a simple question.

I bought the Highlander for Piper in 2017. Here we are at the pond, about to embark upon one of our sketching hikes. Good times.

 

~~~~~

to the pond

Rain is predicted today, so yesterday I made "take Piper to the pond" a priority.

We haven't gone for many of our favorite Autumn rambles at the pond because the Highlander has been in the shop several times recently, and usually for more than one day each time.

It's one of those repair situations where fixing Critical Issue A (to the tune of over $900, which made me blink) unfortunately leads to Critical Issues B though D. The tally is now over three thousand dollars, and yesterday when I got the call from the office manager at the garage saying "your Highlander is fixed," I felt a bit like Charlie Brown and the football.

Anyway, after morning chores and getting the truck back, I brushed Piper thoroughly so that any burrs she might pick up in the woods would be a bit easier to remove, and off we went.

Can you see all those little specks on Pip's coat? She went through a stand of goldenrod and picked up a few seeds to disperse along the trail.

Sniffing is one of Piper's very favorite things to do.

She did a lot of it yesterday;

The colors were phenomenal.

So much green and gold.

Piper ambled to and fro while I took photographs

and picked up bits of things to possibly sketch someday. 

It was while I was photographing this pitcherplant... 

...that Piper went into the bog.

I don't know if she intended to go in, or if she was thinking of having a drink and was taken by surprise by the sudden depth of what is usually just wet ground.

But in a flash she was in muddy water halfway up her ribs, and her effort to turn around and get out only made her feet sink deeper into the muck.

Thinking she might panic, I quickly squelched over and grabbed her collar to give her something solid to pull against.

Result: one very stinky, mucky hound and one equally mucky shoe and trouser leg. I didn't take a picture, but Piper looked very much as she did in this blogpost - with a higher waterline.

Piper was expecting to carry on rambling and sniffing as if she wasn't soaking wet and dripping muck, but since it was chilly and windy, our ramble was curtailed.

Even worse from Piper's point of view, the moment we got home she immediately had a very thorough bath.

After which, everything I was wearing went into the washer with extra detergent.

We are so clean now.

All ready for today's rain.

~~~~~

almost independence day

Yesterday was a remarkably pleasant day. "Remarkable" because the weather since Winter has been nearly unrelentingly rough: rain, rain, rain, sweltering heat, rain, rain. I don't recall an actual Spring. Mud season went on for months instead of weeks; I wore rubber boots everywhere, every day. I think there has been an occasional day or maybe two without rain, but seriously: very wet months.

By comparison, yesterday - the 4th of July - was a "normal" July day and therefore a splendid relief. When morning chores were done I packed a lunch and treats and my nifty new fold-up sketching chair, and took Piper to the pond.

I wore the walking shoes I bought in April specifically for walks with Piper. There have been few walks in the (very wet) woods lately, and those few were in rubber boots. Yesterday was only the second time I've worn the special Piper-walking shoes! They have very deep cushioning, which I hope will make it possible to walk farther/longer.

Me: "Piper, these shoes are REALLY a gift for YOU!"

 Piper: "You spoil me."

We've missed a lot in the woods this year.

Piper draws my attention to the fact that the mayflower bloomed without us:

The trillium likewise.

Also lady-slippers and oh, so many other things.

A good reminder to me that we can never count on seeing something "next time," and it is important to notice and appreciate things here and now.

Here and now is pretty good.

We spent two hours in the woods, with no one else in the area which meant Piper could be off-lead and roaming in loops around me then returning for treats and a general catch-up. A frog, you say? A heron?!

It was a good time.

And when we walked back out, Piper was ready to go home and have a little nap - the sign of a perfect walk.

In what is beginning to sound like a genuine spending spree - fancy walking shoes, a lightweight backpacking chair, what next? - I finally found a replacement for my Little Green SportsWagon; formally retired after years of faithful and valued service.

It took ages to find something affordable with: good ground clearance, enclosed cargo space, enough head (and horn) room for big goats, and a reputation for reliability.

I looked at many, many pickup trucks, but ultimately decided Ms. Piper deserves a little more in the way of comfort. In fact, one COULD say this 2004 Toyota Highlander was REALLY a gift for Piper.

Piper:
"Now this makes sense. I like it.
But you can keep those weird shoes."
~~~~~