Day: April 27, 2026

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Balancing Recreation and Reality

Lately, I’ve found myself in a state of quiet apprehension, staring at the global oil market headlines with a new kind of personal stake. Just last month, I pulled the trigger on a 2026 Ford F-350 Super Duty, and while the truck is nothing short of incredible, the timing feels like a gamble against a volatile world.

There is no denying the machine itself is a marvel. On rural roads, it handles with a confidence that makes every mile a pleasure. I’m currently counting down the weeks until my camper shell arrives; I can already see the open road ahead and the quiet solitude of the wilderness that awaits me on the weekends. But that vision of the future is currently clouded by a very practical question: Will there be gas available by summer, and if so, at what cost?

I realize this is likely short-term anxiety. Things will eventually stabilize, or, in a darker scenario, a global economic crash will simply gut demand and bring prices down with it. But it’s the “in-the-meantime” that haunts the dash. Right now, the pickup is essentially a recreational assetβ€”a luxury of utility. It’s fully paid off, and because I spent the entire winter commuting to work and the store via bike and bus, I know I don’t need it to function in my daily life. Yet, I can’t help but worry that my dream rig might become an expensive “driveway ornament” if fuel becomes a scarce or unaffordable commodity.

The reality check comes every time I look at the trip computer. Over the first 330 miles, I’ve averaged a sobering 13.1 mpg. Granted, I haven’t spent much time on the highway yet; most of those miles were chewed up in city traffic or on the winding, hilly rural roads that the truck was built to conquer. I’m hoping for better numbers once I can get it up to cruising speed on the interstate, but for now, I’m left cringing at the digits.

In the end, it’s a conflict between the intentional, frugal life I’ve built and the thirsty reality of my new passion. I have the rig, I have the desire to explore, and I have the mechanical freedom of a paid-off truck. Now, I just have to wait and see if the world will let me keep the tank full enough to reach the woods.

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Kenwood 1893

After hiking in the Normans Kill Gorge, I was curious about the old routing of Glenmont Road and South Pearl Street.

You know I don’t feel all that guilty for all that plastic crap I’ve burned over the years! πŸ”₯

You tell some people you burn your garbage, and they freak out! It’s illegal! It’s toxic! It’s smelly! Don’t be a cheap motherfucker, recycle, use the landfill.

But then I watch the toxic disaster of the Iran War, the urban garbage heaps all over, the fact nobody really recycles, and plastic has very little value in scrap market, and I’m like whatever, the shit burns well and makes an excellent fire starter. And if you burn it hot, it doesn’t really smell. Most plastic isn’t PVC anymore, or have nearly the amount of plasticizers and toxins of a generation ago.

Honestly, I don’t care. And I like fire. I’d rather just toss it in that white plastic garbage sack and into the fire and watch it be gone.

Smolders