I’m staring at my shiny new 2026 Ford F-350, and all I see is a countdown.
People raise an eyebrow when I say this is likely the last rig I’ll ever buy before I punch out from the state. To them, 2040 feels like a sci-fi movie. To me, it feels like next Tuesday. In fourteen years, I’ll be fifty-seven, backed by three decades of state service and a Tier 4 pension that says I don’t have to answer to anyone. If the math holds and the markets don’t implode, I’ll be sitting on a net worth that could buy a “vinyl-covered” life in the suburbs—the kind with the 72-degree HVAC, weekly trash pickup, and a porch cluttered with Amazon boxes.
But I don’t want the plastic life. I want the dirty life that smells a little like hog shit and burnt plastic.
While the rest of the world is busy paying for high-speed internet and utility bills that never end, I’m scouring listings on NY Land Quest and Christmas Associates. I’m not looking for a McMansion; I’m looking for the “backwaters.” I’m looking for a place where the only recurring fee is property tax and the only “smart” thing I own is the phone in my pocket to check the weather.
The dream is simple: fires and guns. Livestock that I’ve raised, hunted, and butchered myself. I want a life that isn’t wrapped in cellophane and sold back to me at a markup. I want pigs, goats, and maybe a few head of cattle on a patch of land where a burn barrel isn’t a legal liability and my constitutional rights aren’t up for debate.
Every time I fire up this truck to commute through the city, I feel the wear and tear—not just on the engine, but on the vision. Right now, every trip to the woods is a “burden,” a logistical dance of fuel costs and travel time. By 2040, I want to be in it. I want to trap and homestead full-time, trading the bus pass and the bike commute for a pair of hog shit-covered farm boots and a quiet morning somewhere far beyond the New York border.
Of course, fourteen years is a long time for things to go sideways. A market crash, a catastrophic wreck, or a literal bus with my name on it could end the dream before the first post-hole is dug. There’s also the nagging voice that says fifty-seven is too young to toss the hat in. Maybe 2041 will offer some “interesting opportunity” that keeps me at the desk for one more year of golden handcuffs.
But then I look at this truck again. I built my last camping rig fourteen years ago, and it feels like it happened yesterday. Time isn’t just moving; it’s accelerating.
Some people spend their lives buying things they’ll eventually throw away. I’m spending mine building a future where I don’t have to buy anything at all. 2040 isn’t just a retirement date—it’s the year I finally go home.
Rained for a while after dark yesterday, but this morning has brilliant but maybe a bit chilly skies with a stiff breeze,mercury around 42 degrees. Still my windows are open as I like fresh air, though I may close them before I head out for the day.
I am going to head over to Ruth’s to order the truck cap today, 🚚 hoping that I can take delivery in June or maybe July at this point, but I think it’s worth the wait to get the one I really want. Patience is a virtue. I go back and forth about the ARE MX Cap, but I like the one I had on my old rig, doing a similar configuration with the outdoorsman windoors, but with one change – I want a sliding window in the front and if possible a boot between the cab and cap to keep out dust and allow at least some heat/air conditioning to pass betwee, along with run a power cord to cab when I want to work from the cab. 🤷♂️ We will see how it goes, I have no idea about order delays until I got there. But I know what I am up against, but what may have been true a few years ago with order delays may be less true now. Things will be a lot more expensive then 15 years ago, but I’ll get a lot of use out of this truck cap like I did the other one. I guess if it’s not an option I could swing by Capital Region Truck Center and look at a Jericho Cap or maybe head up to Galway and consider a Leer but I might not want to do that this weekend.
I am going to shower in a bit, 🚿 but first the pinto beans 🍲 need to cook down a bit on the stove. Maybe head out a little after 9 AM this morning. First stop would be to head to Goodwill on Western Avenue to look at clothes for work, then over to Ruth’s to hopefully order a cap there, and then over to Salvation Army to see what other clothing options are out there. 👚 Then hiking in the Pine Bush. I would bring my mountain bike, but I don’t have bed map out of my old truck, and no good way to secure the bike in the truck, and I don’t want to scratch the bed or bike up. So it will be a nice hike day to hike. 🚶 Going to bring the camera and take a bunch of picture to upload later on. Hoping to spot a lot of signs of spring. 🌸 Then I want to go to Walmart on Washington Avenue Extension and get some groceries, and head home. But not until after 5 PM to avoid the worse of the Saturday. I would prefer to watch the sun set in Pine Bush but that would make for a pretty long day. 🌇 We’ll see.
Fire all the experienced employees. Slash and burn programs, get rid of the scientists and experts. Repeadly enact policies that go against the scientific consensus. What could go wrong?
Experts matter. Experienced employees get critical work done, even if it’s not immediately apparent the value of their work. Getting rid of such people only risks things going terribly wrong, and not having the people needed to discover risks and address problems when they arise.
