Timestepper

Trust me, you'll never let him go! For proof, click here. Luck to you.

What everybody else says. If you truly love him, get him to the Vet. TONIGHT.

Call the Vet - wait, wrong thread!

I've got a 4-WD Dodge Dakota SE that'll go pretty much anywhere I want it to, but mostly my "off-road truck" is only 1 horse power:

http://www.allproudamericans.com/Marine-Sings-Merry-Christmas-from-Afghanistan-ii.html Bless 'em all!

Not to whiz in your Post Toasties - to each his own and the shavings you can make are indeed great tinder - but I prefer to carry a sharp knife. It can accomplish the same thing PLUS has multiple uses. Also, you're quite limited on what size stick can fit into a pencil sharpener. And, even though it is small and doesn't take up much room, the fact remains that if you carry enough items that don't take up much room and serve only ONE purpose, eventually they will take up a BUNCH of room. As far as easily made tinder goes, I like to carry 10 or 15 feet or more of cheap sisal rope. First, you can never have too much cordage. Second, if you need tinder all you have to do is cut a six inch length of sisal, unravel it and form it into a "nest" which will readily ignite. (And I know whereof I speak having used sisal rope for just that purpose in the course of literally thousands of flint & steel fire making demonstrations.) A nest of cedar bark works even better than sisal rope of course, or at least as well, but sisal is cheap (one of the cheapest of all commercially produced, natural fiber cordages) readily available and has the extra benefit of serving both as cordage and tinder. ...TS...

His kind never do.

Damn sorry to hear that, Jeff! One of my best friends in the world lost his leg below the knee a couple of years ago due to diabetes complications. Lots of sweetener alternatives out there without resorting to using aspartame products, so for goodness sake (and yours!) do a little research. In the mean time, here's hoping you continue to get better quick!

Can't speak for anyone else, but I don't see anything to discuss. He broke the rules, TWICE, got booted and now he's ticked and whining about it on another site. Sounds like the kind of person I enjoy not interacting with. ...TS...

Indeed. I practically begged the Doc in NC not to admit me. "Can't you just give me an I.V. to help me get re-hydrated and then give me something for the nausea so that I can at least keep water down until I get home? I'm afraid my insurance won't cover it and I can't afford it if it doesn't." I was given a resounding "NO! You're very ill (Duh! I knew that!) and I believe you should be admitted." So I called my wife and Safety director and told them what I was up against, then allowed them to admit me. Long story short, insurance won't cover it because it was "out of network" and I didn't personally call them (turns out no one did!) to ask permission before receiving treatment. All told, just over SIX THOUSAND bucks for three days of tests and treatment! Merry freakin' Christmas!

I feel your pain. Back the first part of November I staggered 2 1/2 miles from the truck stop in Mocksville, NC. to the local ER (no taxi service in Mocksville and I wasn't about to pay for an ambulance!) knowing that I was suffering from a bout of pancreatitis and needing some relief. 3 days and $6,000.00 later, they let me walk back to the truck. Hope you get better quick! Still looking forward to getting together sometime soon. ...TS...

BINGO!

I don't really think that the issue is lack of enforcement so much as a need for the law in the first place. No one wants to be responsible for their own actions anymore and so Big Brother feels the need to legislate against their stupidity. Used to be, we had to look both ways before crossing the street. Now motorists have to stop for pedestrians. As to the NTSB and their jurisdiction, think of what the acronym stands for: National Transportation Safety Board. (Note that it's not: National Commercial Transportation Safety Board.) Point in fact - Even though not all commercial drivers are as safety conscious as we should be at all times, a very large portion accidents involving commercial vehicles were caused by the initial actions of a non-commercial vehicle. Simply put, I think that EVERYBODY should be held to a higher standard, not just professional drivers.

It's not. Especially if you use a hands free device. I'm guessing they're thinking that the only way to completely get rid of texting is to disallow phone use by the driver altogether.

Had one. Gave it up for Lent. Doesn't seem to be worth the trouble to look for another one.

Uh, Santa? Please tell me that you're wearing a flesh colored shirt in your avatar pic and that you're not really bare-chested. I really would like to sleep without nightmares between now and Christmas!

Ok, I know I'll go down in flames for this so I'll point out in advance that the first few paragraphs are <largely> sarcasm. First, I think texting while driving should be allowed, even encouraged in fact. I also think that folks should be allowed and encouraged to read newspapers, grade school work, shave, apply makeup and even have sex while driving and do it all without benefit of the seatbelts everyone seems to hate. (In the course of a twenty plus year career as a truck driver, averaging 110,000 miles a year, I've seen all of that and more.) Plus we should add more high-tech gadgets to each and every new car and insist that all drivers use each of these gadgets at least once per mile for every mile they spend on the road Why do I say that? Well I'm glad you asked and I'm pleased to tell you!!! It seems to be increasingly difficult to legislate against stupidity these days. In fact it's nearly impossible. And still no one wants stupid people to die. In the 21st century we have everything from warnings on electric hair dryers, *WARNING: DO NOT USE THIS DEVICE IN SHOWER OR BATHTUB!* to directions on a box of freakin' toothpicks! Technology has helped the human race live so much longer and so much better that natural selection can't keep up anymore. As a result we've become an over-crowded and disillusioned race of disenchanted arrogant brats. So I say "Go ahead and text whilst piloting your 2,000 plus pound weapon down the roadways at 10 - 15 MPH above the posted speed limit! Screw using the turn signals - nobody else does! Watch an extra 5 minutes of the morning news or deliberately set your alarm to go off late so you feel the need to shave, apply makeup, etc... on your way to work!" Then the rest of us can sit back and watch natural selection at work. And if one of these idiots takes out one of our loved ones, then we make an example out of what's left of them! By and large, besides being stupid, people are also incredibly arrogant and think that either they are above the rules or they're much too good to ever have a problem. Simple fact is that driving is like having sex: Everyone thinks they're great at it, while the fact remains that most simply don't what the hell they're doing and have just gotten lucky. As to the problem of texting while driving... Education might help. Maybe graphic images of body parts pulled from wreckage caused by offenders. But the seemingly inborn arrogance of modern society will nullify this in short order; "Can't happen to me, I'm too good!" Stiffer penalties have also been mentioned. Well, I can't think of a much stiffer penalty than death and, unfortunately, even that doesn't seem to be much of a deterrent. I mean, good Lord! In England a few years ago, they were putting padding on light poles in London because people were getting injured from walking into them while texting!!! There comes a point when you just can't legislate against stupidity anymore and the only alternative is to completely remove/disable the means to be stupid. In this case, phones with text capabilities. Make something simple enough even a fool can use it and only a fool will use it. And yes, it is my firm belief that anyone who texts while driving is not just a fool but a damned fool! Want another way to put this idiocy to an end? Make the penalties stiff enough that no one can afford to do it: 1st offense, your car is impounded for a week and you spend that week in jail! 2nd offense, your car is confiscated, you spend a year in jail and you lose your license for LIFE!!! And then encourage the motoring public to report violators by offering a reward! And give LEO's the technology to detect when someone is texting while driving. Then.... ENFORCE THE FREAKING LAW UNTIL NO ONE DOES IT ANY MORE! And if anyone thinks those penalties are too stiff... Well, they're welcome to do pallbearer duty for the families of those killed by the offenders. Anyway, that's the not so humble rant of someone who has traveled more than 2 1/2 million miles on the highways and byways of the good ol' USofA and it's worth exactly what you paid to read it. ...TS...

Prayerful thoughts sent up from truck #1264.

I know what you mean - I guess one good thing about living in E. Tn. is that all my family and friends are still in Kansas so it doesn't get quite as hectic for me as it does for most. Off hand, I'm thinking of either the 21st or 28th January for the next try. If anyone is interested that should give them plenty of time to check their schedule. If one date works best over another then I'll let folks pick and choose. OR, if if comes down to it, I could do it both dates. Doesn't matter to me. If someone else wants to host it or has a better area then I'm cool with that, too, and I'll be happy to go where ever is chosen if it ain't a real long ways away. Put another way, I really don't give a darn about who's in charge, what all we, when we do it or where we do it at as long as it's on a Saturday. (And the two arbitrary dates I mentioned were picked out of thin air just because it should be far enough out for folks to plan.) ...TS...

Very well put, friend Beowulf! Keep yer nose to th' wind!

I'm throwing this into the mix here simply to offer up a bit of an alternative to the modern survival mindset. I've nothing against modern survival methods, in fact I think more and more that a mix of modern and primitive methods is probably the way to go. At least for me. I wrote this article for Muzzle Blasts magazine back in '04 (while still in Western Kansas - long before I ever thought of moving to East Tennessee) and, while it is chronicle more than how-to, the information contained might still be of some use. If not as a guideline, then at least as a way of understanding the mindset of those who choose an alternative way. Hope you find it useful. ...TS... *NOTE* John Curry, mentioned in the opening lines, has been an avid student of the eighteenth century frontier for 37 years and has organized and lead many historic forays into wilderness areas. He has written for several muzzle loading and living history magazines including Muzzle Blasts, Smoke and Fire, On the Trail, Dixie Gun Works, Black Powder Annual and Muzzleloader. Though we knew each other by reputation and writing, I didn't have the honor of meeting John in person until 2004 shortly after this article was published. For those interested, any article by him will be well worth the read. A Kansas Kind of Experience (Primitive Scouts and cross time encounters.) Author’s note: Kansas, while not generally thought of when one speaks of mountain men and the fur trade, is none the less very rich in history. Containing a large portion of the Santa Fe Trail, Kansas has served as a gateway both to and from the western mountains since the time of Zebulon Pike and before. “I’ll bet John Curry doesn’t do it like this!” my partner grumbled as he tossed another stick on the fire and artfully dodged yet another leak in our hastily thrown together “lean twice.” “John Curry doesn’t have to do it like this,” I reminded him. “John Curry has hills and trees and rockcastles to shelter in. We, on the other hand, have a fallen down willow and a six foot sand bank on the Arkansas River in west-central Kansas. Besides, John’s an Eastern long hunter and we, my friend are by-gawd Mountain men!” My partner, Cord Sprague, and I were on a two day primitive trek/hunt along the Arkansas River in Pawnee County, Kansas. We’d selected this particular location for a number of reasons. First, having been born and raised in a small town not far away, I was intimately familiar with the terrain. Second, the Arkansas, though dry in this area except for beaver ponds, is still considered to be a Federal waterway. This means that except for points if ingress and egress, as long as we stay within the confines of the river banks, we cross no property lines and therefore need have no worry about accidental trespass. And there is a wonderful amount of brush laden sand bars between the banks, providing exceptional hunting opportunities. Third, and perhaps most importantly, we were only a few miles south of the Santa Fe Trail in a historically rich region. It was not far from here where a young Kit Carson was said to have shot his own mule while on guard duty. Of course historians have since proven this to be no more than a tall tale, but still, knowing that Carson, as well as a great many others had camped and hunted almost within a stone’s throw adds greatly to the experience. Earlier that afternoon we’d dressed in buckskins and moccasins, picked up our smokepoles shouldered our tumpline bedrolls and said goodbye to the 21st century. We hiked and hunted for the better part of 4 miles until, caught by darkness; we made a quick camp in the lee of the north bank. Now there’s something you ought to know about my partner and I and our primitive hunts and that is that it doesn’t matter how long it’s been since the last moisture fell from the sky, or how oppressive the drought – When we go out, it rains! Not just buckets, but wagon loads! Honestly! In all the times we’ve gone out, it has never failed to rain at least one night. Our first night out on this particular occasion was no exception. Typically, we’ll build long fire pits then cover the coals with a layer of sand for sleeping purposes, but owing to a 21st century Dr.’s appointment earlier that day, we’d gotten a late start and had to “make do.” The rain quit during the night and the sun was almost shining the next morning as we rolled out of our blankets, making for a somewhat brighter, if considerably colder, day. And after a breakfast of dried pears, smoked bacon and coffee, we sat about improving our shelter. We’d draped our ground sheets over a large blown down willow the night before and decided that with a few improvements this same spot could be made quite homey. After building a framework of branches from the willow to the bank, we draped several arm loads of long stemmed prairie grass over the top and weighted it all down with a layer of logs. The result was a shelter which was quite cozy and dry, even if not overly roomy. The point is that it suited our needs and was produced in a historically accurate fashion and it wasn’t long before we were referring to it as home, sweet home. (Both of us being rather tall and the shelter rather short, we also referred to it by a few less flattering names!) Breakfast eaten and shelter finished, we spent the next several hours hunting. This particular outing having been in the middle of January meant that there were still several hunting seasons open. Rabbit, squirrel, pheasant and quail among them. Equipped with an original (ca.1832) double barrel 12 gauge percussion shotgun and a little iron mounted .40 cal. Mowrey, the rabbits and squirrels didn’t stand much of a chance. Cord even made a beautiful running head shot on one rabbit that had gotten past me and the shotgun. On the way back to camp, we “met up with” three modern horsemen and invited them to camp to sit and jaw awhile. Amazed at first at our mode of dress and our guns, the riders were intrigued and interested in our camp and various accoutrements and we spent nearly two hours talking with them, even showing them how to start a fire with flint and steel. When they left they thanked us for our hospitality and said how glad they were that they’d seen us. We neglected to tell them that we’d had them under observation for nearly thirty minutes before they “spotted” us. I might point out here that while we are in no way hostile to the public or other hunters, our general rule is that it is always better to “see them before they see us,” then if we choose to make contact, it is on terms and terrain which we have chosen. This not only helps keep misunderstandings to a minimum, but is also in keeping with the laws of survival during the time period we are striving to re-create. After our company left, we built up the fire and settled in for a delicious and well earned supper of roasted rabbit and squirrel with homemade fruit leather for desert. Later, over steaming cups of tea, we couldn’t help but laugh as we recalled the looks of dis-belief on the faces of the horsemen as we’d stepped from the brush that afternoon. And it was with no small amount of pride that we realized we’d done things exactly in the manner of Jedediah Smith and others of his ilk who’d been through this same stretch of country more than 160 years before. After a good night’s sleep, it was time to once again shoulder our bedrolls, grab guns and shooting bags and move out. This time, unfortunately, we were headed back towards the 21st century, rather than away from it. All in all our outing was a success, despite the rain, and we are looking forward to many more primitive outings in the years to come. Although there are a good many in Kansas who prefer the time period of the Eastern long hunter, there are even more who emulate the western mountain man of the early 1800’s. My friend, Cord and I fit into the latter category and our gear and accoutrements are based almost entirely upon that premise. Our clothing is simple, consisting of buckskin breeches and leggings, with calico or walnut dyed linen shirts over flannel “union suits.” Our outfits are completed with moccasins and felt slouch hats. In colder temperatures, a coyote hat, buckskin war shirts and woolen blanket capote or blanket poncho are added. Our camping gear consists simply of tightly rolled tumpline bed rolls enabling us to comfortably carry our personal items securely tucked inside or tied to the outside. Generally we each carry flint and steel, gourd canteens, copper billy can with lid, horn spoon, a small amount of coffee and/or tea along with dried fruit, parched corn or cornmeal, pemmican and/or a few squares of hardtack with an occasional slab of home cured bacon. The type of fruit we take varies somewhat, but I generally prefer dried pears. Though less common on the 1800’s plains than apples and not as historically correct, I prefer using pears in colder temperatures simply because of the higher caloric content. Of course during hunting season, we tend to carry less food relying instead upon our ability to procure small game along the way. During our outings we have very few rules, but adhere to those rules strictly. They are: 1.) Abide by any and all hunting/fishing/conservation laws even at the cost of period authenticity. 2.) Always have permission to be where you are. When in doubt about land ownership, either ask or go somewhere else. 3.) Never be taken by surprise. Always see others before they see you. 4.) Have fun! Laugh at your partner when he slips on a beaver slide and gets wet up to his waist. Laugh at yourself when you forget to duck and the limb in front of you smacks you in the forehead. Laugh when it rains for the 9th time in a row and hope it’s dry on the 10th. 5.) If you encounter the public, be gracious. Explain what you are doing and why it’s important to you. Offer to demonstrate the use of your rifle or how to start a fire with flint and steel. It is these types of encounters which can help us to gain new areas to camp/hunt. If nothing else, it helps show that we’re really not part of some lunatic fringe. And maybe, just maybe, we’ll have a new convert into doing things the old way.

As it turns out, I had the good fortune of being busy with an experiment last time the census taker came by: I'd melted some dry ice in a big tub in the back yard to see if I could give the cat a bath without getting him wet. (It didn't work, but it sure scared hell outta' the census guy and the mailman... and the Jehovah's Witnesses won't even come up the driveway any more!)

Since this thread was first started this morning, I've been trying to think of what age I was when I discovered that Santa Clause was a lie. Was it four? Six? Ten? I honestly can't remember. Maybe I've failed at life because now I'm pushing 51 and I'm still not altogether convinced that Santa Clause IS a lie and that he doesn't exist. Ban Santa? I don't even have kids, let alone grandkids, and still I can't bring myself to contemplate such a thing! Ban Santa from my home? Might as well ban hope and dreams and the simple joy of temporarily suspending disbelief. When I think of all the joy this so-called "mythical" gentleman has brought to the world, it fills my very soul with hope. Santa a lie? Oh, what evil! And worse, an evil continually perpetrated upon the world by generations of parents who were lied to by their parents!! Oh, the inhumanity of it all! Unless... maybe... possibly... he's not really a lie. I'll admit that I've never seen Santa Clause (although I've seen plenty of his helpers), but I've never seen an iceberg either and yet scores of people whom I respect tell me that they do indeed exist. I've never had a fireplace and chimney for Santa to come down and I've heard that it would be physically impossible for one being to travel as much as he is purported to travel on one night, but then I think of Einstein's famous theory and I can't help but wonder. Ban Santa? No. I'm sorry, but I just can't bring myself to do it. I have no real proof that he exists, except for what I feel in my heart of hearts and the joy I've witnessed at the very mention of his name. But neither have I seen conclusive proof that Santa does NOT exist. In fact, the only evidence I've had to the contrary has come from those I'm not inclined to believe anyway. Ban Santa from my home? No thank you. Even at my age and without children of my own, I find it much more comforting somehow to continue to bid him welcome here. And I think he likes it that way... I know I do!

Thanks, Mike. I'm glad that you had a great day. Sometimes they get in pretty short supply. Truth is, I'm not really disappointed myself. I know I didn't give much notice and that sometimes things happen. In my own case, I spent a good portion of the day crawling around under the house working on water lines and praying that my plumbing repairs will hold up long enough to have time to do them right.