Meet Ford Gamble

Ok, we're in the Okanagan and we have wheels! The famous farm truck. This is on loan with the instruction to fire it up daily, as it won't hold a charge. But when it runs it's a tough old goat. I'm on a mountaintop, nestled into a ski resort that's closed for the season. What could possibly go wrong? I went out this morning to fire it up. Nada. And not a soul around to help me. But I'm here with my groceries, guitars, art toys. A few days of solitude, I can do it.

Ford Gamble, that's what I'm calling the truck. It's a Ford, and it's a gamble whether it'll start or not, but I'm grateful to have a ride while I'm here.

The original Ford Gamble was my uncle. He was a gentle soul; a family man, a newspaper man. He was a twinkle in his eye kind of guy. It's anthropomorphic, but I do like this hunk of rust more now that I associate it with him, and I'm kind of happy that I can just let it sit now, knowing the battery is already dead and I don't need to go tend it daily. I have a booster box. I'll deal with it later. For now I’m just nestling in with my guitar.

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