When I got back from the arboretum this afternoon, I noticed my bike ride was becoming increasingly wobbly. I thought I had a broken spoke, but it turned out the worn-out tire had completely failed with a blown-out sidewall and a ripped bead. After showering, I decided to swing by Steiner’s to get a new one. They had the exact model—pricey at $84, but whatever, inflation. I make good money, I guess.
What I didn’t notice was that they sold me a tubeless tire, while I run old-fashioned tubes on my mountain bike. That explains the high cost; tube tires are much cheaper, even if they have inferior performance. When I discovered this in the evening, I was pissed because it meant no riding the bike to work tomorrow. Traffic was so bad in Glenmont this afternoon, and Steiner’s was a zoo, too. Maybe I’m just a bit freaked out about driving an F-350 through traffic. Even worse, I’m going to have to drive to work so I can swing by Steiner’s afterward. I can’t help but think of the bumper-to-bumper traffic, the cops with their penises sticking out their windows, and the drivers all looking to crash into a brand-new Super Duty. There are few things I despise more than having to drive to work, and I’ll have to burn all that gas in the truck to make the trip. It’s not that much money, really—I just bought the truck with cash.
I keep looking at the MPG calculator, which has gone down since I drove more in traffic on Central Avenue and in Glenmont. Rural driving with all the hills isn’t quite as easy on gas as I expected, though highway driving is remarkably efficient. It’s stupid; the Super Duty is not a commuting car, and I don’t plan to make a habit of driving it to work every day.
The truck is paid for, except for the $4,900 remaining on the cap after my $500 deposit, plus maybe a bit for miscellaneous parts to move the electrical components over. That’s just one more bank check in May when I take delivery, as Ruth’s charges 3.5% on credit cards and doesn’t take personal checks. And maybe a bed liner and undercoating in the autumn. Still, this has felt like such a costly project. Maybe I should have kept “Big Red” on the road, but he needed to be retired since I still want to travel. I could have gotten a smaller truck, but I didn’t want a lift kit and the alternators were too small on the other models. I’m just freaking out a bit over the cost of it all, even though I knew what I was getting into.
The truth is, I really like the way the Super Duty drives now that I’ve got things adjusted, especially on rural highways. It feels at home with the big tow mirrors that make it easy to spot the lines on the road and find my position. With those mirrors, I think it’s easier to drive in traffic than the lifted Silverado. The views are great and it has a solid ride—which, as the frame got floppy on the Silverado, wasn’t the case anymore. I like the true big-truck feel and the roar of that 6.8L “Minizilla” V8. It really is a fun toy, something that reminds me of the years I’ve spent working hard and saving for a little fun. I don’t buy many toys, and my idea of a good vacation is camping at a dispersed site for free. Once the cap arrives, it will be great. I just have to keep my eyes off the MPG gauge.
Honestly, the fewer miles I drive the Super Duty, the longer it will last. It’s a pretty amazing truck. I don’t know how to compare the fuel economy to my old truck, since the big tires on that one threw off the mileage calculations anyway. One trip into the office to get the correct bike tire won’t change much. The truck fits my needs, and since it’s primarily a recreational vehicle, who cares if it drinks slightly more fuel? The big expense—paying for the truck—is done, and soon the cap will be too. Selling Big Red will also bring in some money. Choosing this truck isn’t going to permanently alter my life; I didn’t even touch my savings or investments.
The repulsive chemical smell of the new interior is rapidly fading. The hard plastic of the steering wheel is irritating my hands less, and it feels less “plastic-y” now that I’ve broken it in a bit. I was going to get a cover because it annoyed me so much at first, but I think I’m becoming okay with it. I’m also figuring out the ins and outs of the various features, personalizing it, and getting to know it. The things I didn’t love I am overcoming, and the things I did love—like how it handles rural roads—I am loving even more. It’s big, but not so big that it’s hard to drive; it’s only slightly larger than my lifted Silverado. I am adapting. Still, change is hard, and the cost of both the truck and the cap is a bit of a shock.
The breeze blows in with a heavy flair, A gift we call the “dairy air.” The tractors crawl across the dirt, Spreading “perfume” till your nostrils hurt!
The children grimace, pinch, and poke, “That smell!” they cry, “It’s not a joke!” But Farmer Dan just shakes his head, “That’s the smell of money, kids!” he said.
It’s the tangy scent of life anew, Where brown turns green beneath the dew. Soon little rows of corn will peep, While alfalfa wakes from winter sleep.
From hay and grass and clover sweet, Comes a feast for bossy cows to eat. And happy cows with heavy silk, Turn that salad into golden milk.
So when you gulp a glass so cold, To beat the summer heat, be bold! Or pull a slice of pizza high, With melted cheese to catch the eye. When ice cream drips on a sunny day, Remember how it started—the stinky way.
For every scoop and every treat, Began with the smell of a muddy street!
Baumol’s Cost Disease is an economic theory explaining why the costs of certain services—like healthcare, education, and the arts—rise over time, even when their productivity does not.
The Core Concept
The phenomenon occurs because of a mismatch in productivity growth across different sectors of the economy:
Progressive Sectors: Industries like manufacturing or tech constantly use new tools and automation to produce more with less labor. This higher productivity allows them to pay workers higher wages.
Stagnant Sectors: Services like education or live music rely on human labor that cannot be easily automated. For example, a string quartet still takes four people the same amount of time to perform a piece today as it did 200 years ago.
The Wage Pull: Even though stagnant sectors aren’t getting “faster,” they must raise wages to compete for talent. If a hospital or school doesn’t increase pay, its doctors and teachers will leave for higher-paying jobs in progressive industries.
The Result: Because stagnant sectors can’t offset these higher wages with more output, they are forced to raise their prices, leading to costs that consistently outpace general inflation.
Key Affected Sectors
Healthcare: Relying on person-to-person care makes it difficult to scale productivity without sacrificing quality.
Education: The time required for a professor to mentor a student remains relatively fixed despite modern technology.
Performing Arts: Live performances are the classic example; you cannot “speed up” a play to increase profit without ruining the product.
Government Services: Public sectors like law enforcement and the court system are highly labor-intensive and susceptible to this effect.
Is it a “Disease”?
While the name sounds negative, many economists view it as a side effect of a healthy, growing economy.
Positive Perspective: It is a sign that the overall economy is becoming so productive that it can afford to pay more for vital human-centric services.
Challenges: It creates massive pressure on public budgets and can lead to income inequality if lower-income families cannot keep up with the rising costs of essential services like medical care.
In the second week of April, the Albany Pine Bush undergoes a subtle but profound transformation. While the high dunes of the inland pine barrens often appear stalled in winter’s grip—brown, wind-swept, and stark—the low-lying hollows tell a different story. It is a period of “waking up” that requires a close look to truly appreciate.
The most aggressive sign of life is found in the wet, mucky depressions between the dunes. Here, the skunk cabbage has already pushed through the thawing mud. Its mottled, maroon spathes have used metabolic heat to melt any lingering late-season snow, and by mid-April, its bright green, fan-like leaves are beginning to unfurl. These are the first true splashes of vibrant color in an otherwise dormant landscape, providing a critical early food source for emerging insects.
Higher up on the banks of the intermittent streams and vernal pools, the willows are reaching their “catkin” stage. Their slender branches, which turn a vivid yellow-gold this time of year, are dotted with fuzzy silver buds. These willows are among the first woody plants to break dormancy, their swelling tips signaling the return of the sap’s flow long before the pitch pines or scrub oaks show any sign of new growth.
The atmosphere of the Pine Bush in mid-April is defined by this contrast. On the ridges, the wind still whistles through dry needles and the brittle, tan leaves of scrub oaks that refused to drop in autumn. Yet, in the damp shadows of the ravines, the air smells of damp earth and the skunk cabbage’s pungent scent. The “greening up” is not a blanket effect but a strategic, localized emergence.
This week is a fleeting bridge between seasons. The migratory birds are just beginning to return, their calls punctuating a landscape that is finally shaking off the grey. It is a quiet, hopeful time when the barrens transition from the resilience of winter to the frantic energy of a Northeast spring.
I was delighted that I could have the new truck cap before the end of May, though maybe less delighted with the price, which is about 2/3rds more then almost the same cap I had built for my Silverado 14 years ago. But I do get a lot of use of cap, and I do want to camp and travel for at least a few more years before I settle down.
I mean I shouldn’t cringe that much about cutting another bank check of $4,900 to pay off the balance on the truck cap, 🚚 after spending $59,750 on the underlying the truck, but I do. But over 14 years, especially if I travel as much as I did in the previous decade and half, it will be worth it. I don’t stay in fancy hotels or resorts, but camp under the truck cap most of the time. And inflation has gone up by 45% in the intervening years, and my income by by like 325%. 💸 And I still live in my very frugal apartment that is only seen modest rent increases since my college years 20 years ago, ride my mountain bike or take city bus to work. Still I do feel awful about spending so much money, even if I know I will get a lot of use out of the new rig. With the MX Cap and Outdoorsman Windoors, it’s spec out almost the same as the old cap. Too bad the trucks are different sizes.
I mean, old Andy Ruth is always entertaining to deal with his shop, as he goes over all the details of the truck cap. 🛠️ Definately an old grease monkey 🐒 type, I got to hear his gripes about how expensive everything has gotten in recent years. I have to agree. 🔥 After the controlled burn in the Pine Bush apparently an ember fell on a stack of boxes and burned up a car behind his shop yesterday. 🧑🚒 And of course the fire department promptly pointed their finger at him for burning garbage during the spring burn ban. I doubt it, he’s too urban, with roads on both sides of his shop and houses down the road. 20 years ago, things were different.
But after going through the details carefully with a copy of the specs I set up in spring, 📄 I ended up ordering basically the same cap I have on my old truck, with one change – a sliding front window that also folds down. I will use sticky door foam strips around the sliding window in the truck, as a boot between the cap and cab, allowing me to pass a power cord or even some heat or air conditioning from the cab back to camper. I decided, especially with the costs, to for now just fully reuse all of electrical components – solar, batteries, controllers, relays – in my new set up with no upgrades at this point. 🔋 I do want to add a cellphone booster before my Michigan trip or at least the autumn but then it’s just the diesel heater for winter. Eventually I want to add a second solar panel and maybe a lithium ion phosphate battery for more storage, but the existing system works well enough on the old truck, and solar keeps things topped off. With remote start on the new truck, 🔑 should I get an undervoltage condition, I just tap the start button twice on key fob and it will run for 15 minutes and reset things automatically. Andy’s not wrong, shit has just gotten so expensive. People have suggested all other kinds of caps and campers, and I’ve looked into alternatives, but I have found the configuration on Big Red 🛻 to have served me well.
I pulled the bolts for mounting the CB radio 📻 on the dashboard, but I will need longer bolts to make it fit from the stock bolts. It will fit nice there, but then again it’s were Ford intended a CB or police radio to be mounted. Still studying my options on where to run the CB antenna wire through the firewall – I don’t want to accidentally cut any of the many bundles of colorful wires that are everywhere or get leaks in my new truck. There are several issues, as mounting radios and running antennas are a pretty common thing on a SuperDuty. Then I got to figure out where the up fitter switch tie-in within the cab are located. I do need to order a specific hood mount for the CB antenna for a SuperDuty, and I also want an intergrated-ampflier PA Speaker to install when I install the CB antenna on SuperDuty. I should order that this week. I think I might need a trim puller to access those wires. Holding off on the cellphone booster until mid-summer, though I want that before my trip to Michigan.
As far as the electrical for camping 🏕️, once I get the new truck cap installed hopefully in late May, then I will mount both batteries in opposite sides of the bed from my old truck. I should be able to reuse most of the fuses, wires and control circuitry from the old configuration, but I will need a second battery box but I they have them in stock at Wally World in Albany. It should be pretty straightforward. Going to run a wire straight back from from one of the starting batteries back to the big can relay I will mount in the bed. I will use big two diodes for monitoring voltages from the solar and alternator/starting batteries and that XY-60 switch, and when the engine is spinning, it will charge the camp batteries with ease (it’s a 420 amp dual alternator), and when the solar is out putting enough power, reverse the charge to the starting batteries.
So yeah, I got a lot of plans 💭 for the new truck. Drove nicely through traffic yesterday, the city gas milage ⛽ was nothing to brag about, but it is an HD truck. With a truck that big though the towing mirrors are wonderful (they let you see the lines on the pavement and cars in blind spots) as are the back up camera. 🔑 And I do love the remote start. Hiked for a while yesterday in the Pine Bush, 🌲 tried on shirts at Goodwill and Salvation Army, 👚 only found one that fit nice and was good at Salvation Army, the one I liked at Goodwill had stains from a leaky pen in a shirt pocket so I did not buy. It was kind of windy and cold though hiking in the Pine Bush. Ended up just stopping at Hannaford in Voorheeesville for some groceries, but forgot Apple Cider Vinger and cinnamon but I Might get some this morning at Market 32 for I am sure a premium price after doing some hiking and searching for spring signs 🌸 at the Pine Hollow Arboretum 🪷.
I made the tragic mistake of clicking on an article about the next generation of Schizophrenia drugs designed to help people with serious mental illness overcome their delusions and paranoia without many of the traditional side-effects of Schizophrenia drugs – namely the withdrawal from daily life and uncontrolled body movements.
Now I’m being followed around the internet with ads with creepy faces on toasters and refrigerators saying, “Know the Sneaky Signs of Schizophrenia”. The rather colorful and cute ads remind me of a psychedelic album cover from the late 1960s. You know the kind of artwork you might enjoy when you are pretty darn stoned and looking for something to be tuned into.
The irony of it all is such targeted advertising is not only creepy and plays in one’s own paranoia, it actually is in many ways a realization of the modern suburbanite’s home, full of internet connected appliances, constantly beaming information over the internet, some that you consent to and find useful but much of which can be used for nefarious or even surveillance purposes by hackers or government agents if they actually found you to be of something of interest.
I don’t have Internet at home but I have been to plenty of homes where people have Amazon Echos and “smart” televisions and refrigerators with large displays that smile at you and try to be friendly in appearance, even if they are data collecting machines, mostly for innocent purposes like telling you when your toast is done on your cellphone, that and selling your data and marketing to you. I mean, the schizophrenic aren’t exactly wrong about whereAmerica is going these days in your typical suburban home.
Even as a person who prides myself on financial responsibility, I occasionally find myself staring at my Ford SuperDuty and grappling with the sticker price. At nearly $60,000, it is a staggering sum for a vehicle. I know it isn’t an “investment”—at least not in the sense that my brokerage accounts are. It is a consumption expense, a heavy-duty truck that will eventually wear out. Yet, as I look toward the next fifteen years of my life, I’ve come to view this truck not as a lapse in judgment, but as a deliberate investment in personal freedom.
My professional life is defined by the structured world of middle management, overseeing Data Services Unit for the NYS Assembly. It is a career built on twenty years of steady growth, and this year, my total income—bolstered by dividends and side projects—will reach well into the six figures. Despite this, my daily habits remain rooted in frugality. I live in a modest apartment; I commute by bicycle or the local city bus. Because I am disciplined in the areas of life I care little about, I have granted myself the permission to be expansive in the areas I do.
The logic for a heavy-duty F-350 is admittedly more emotional than strictly utilitarian. I could have settled for a used Tacoma or a smaller Ranger, but those wouldn’t capture the “Big Truck” stability or the power of the “Minizilla” engine. This truck is a vessel for the wilderness. I see the years ahead clearly: camping under a new truck cap in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula, navigating the rugged terrain of West Virginia, and eventually installing a diesel heater for warm winter expeditions. There is a specific, quiet joy in sitting on a tailgate at a remote campsite, the woods illuminated by lighting powered by the truck itself, listening to music as the fire crackles.
Critics of such a purchase might point to the “opportunity cost”—the reality that these funds could have been diverted toward my dream of an off-grid homestead or an earlier retirement. I am keenly aware of this trade-off. However, intentionality is the bridge between my current reality and my future goals. Currently, I am still funneling 50% of my income into retirement and investment accounts. My path toward a “free state” where I can raise livestock and listen to the birds on my own land remains secure. This truck doesn’t derail that future; it simply makes the journey there more capable and enjoyable.
Ultimately, the SuperDuty is a work truck with vinyl floors, not a status symbol to be polished in a suburban driveway. It is a functional necessity in a car-driven society, transformed into a tool for escape. By being frugal where it counts, I have earned the right to be intentional where it matters. “Big Red,” my previous vehicle, eventually met its end, and in fifteen years, this truck likely will too. But in the intervening decade and a half, the memories of the trail and the campfire will have far outlived the sting of the price tag.
