Saturday, June 23

Calling 911

Today's excitement started in the bank parking lot when my little, poor excuse for a car (the Tracer) began sounding like an old washing machine on steroids. The AAA tow truck driver was a really nice guy, told me what to look for when I got it home (loose lifters, improperly seated plugs). Okay, that didn't work. Must be the timing belt or a second flywheel has gone out or ? I don't really care at this point since this Ford lemon has cost me much more than your average bear repair. So it will sit.

While changing the truck oil (going to have to start using it again), that familiar whiff of grass fire smoke wafted by, so I went around to the back yard and looked over the fence. Sure enough, another conflagration to deal with across the tracks. I went in and called 911 so the firemen could go across the street and check on this one. The station is literally across the road from where this was. A few minutes later, the sirens wailed and small truck scooted down the tracks while a few men tried to douse it with the little hose.

The big truck had to go way around the neighborhood to get into the backyard of this place where the fire had started. I think it was at our friend's house. They're on vacation. The blaze stayed at the fence line, so I don't believe there was much property damage, thankfully.

This is one part of our tax bill I don't complain about --- fire protection.

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