Consumer prices soared in March, pushed higher by skyrocketing gasoline prices. The numbers
Consumer prices were up 3.3% in March from a year earlier, the Labor Department said Friday, much hotter than February’s gain of 2.4%.
It was the highest reading in two years. But it was also in line with the expectations of economists surveyed by The Wall Street Journal. Inflation Soared to 3.3% in March, Putting the Fed in a Tight Spot You may also like Your browser does not support HTML5 video.
Let’s be honest: I have trust issues. The idea of outsourcing my brain to a remote server I can’t see or control makes my inner skeptic twitch. Yet, here we are. Over the last few months, the internet has become a buffet of free Artificial Intelligence, and I’ve finally picked up a plate.
I haven’t fully surrendered to our robot overlords yet, but I’ve learned to love the leverage.
Why I’m Letting a Bot Hold the Pen
Writing is hard. Proofreading is harder. AI has become the ultimate “force multiplier” for my creative process. It allows me to generate content with significantly less manual labor. Here is the reality of our new partnership:
Grammar Without the Headache: It usually spits out text that is syntactically sound, saving me from the “did I use the right ‘their’?” death spiral.
The Ultimate Explainer: It leverages the entire internet to flesh out concepts that sit just outside my personal expertise.
Copyright Freedom: Since AI-generated content isn’t copyrightable, I can mold, mash, and publish it however I please.
Concept Expansion: I provide the spark—the thoughts and core ideas—and the AI handles the heavy lifting of elaboration.
The “Customer is Always Right” Problem
Working with AI is a bit like managing a very talented, very sycophantic intern. It has some quirks that drive me up the wall:
The “Pleasant” Filter: AI has an annoyingly “artificial” voice. It’s often overly sentimental and pathologically eager to please.
Blind Obedience: If I tell an AI the moon is made of spare ribs, it will likely agree and provide a recipe for BBQ sauce. It defers to the user even when the user is objectively wrong.
The Hallucination Factor: It makes mistakes. Bold, confident, flat-out lies.
How I Keep the Human in the Loop
I don’t let the bot go wild. My process is less “autopilot” and more “power steering.”
I treat AI outputs as a rough draft—a lump of clay that needs a human touch. I carefully monitor every sentence. I edit out the fluff, correct the “hallucinations,” and strip away that weirdly polished, robotic tone to make sure the final post actually sounds like me.
It’s a strange new world, but having a partner that never gets tired and knows almost everything? It’s kind of great—as long as I’m the one holding the leash.
Tomorrow, I’m headed over to Ruth’s to finally pull the trigger on an ARE cap, and I’m still sitting here chewing on the same old bone: flat roof or mid-rise? My old truck had the MX mid-rise, and it served its purpose, but this new Ford SuperDuty has a bed deep enough to camp in comfort even sitting up. I’m leaning toward the flat roof this time. It’ll grab less wind on the highway, keep the gas mileage from plummeting further into the basement, and making the kayak less of a wrestling match to unload. It just feels more stable for the long haul—whenever that haul actually happens. I had visions of the Upper Peninsula of Michigan this year, but at the rate the world moves lately, that might just be a “next year” dream.
I’ll admit, I had a bit of a moment last night. I started spiraling about the lead times. Ever since the pandemic turned everyone into a “rugged outdoorsman,” the demand for recreational gear has been a circus. Pair that with labor shortages, and suddenly a “ten-week estimate” feels like wishful thinking. I’m bracing myself to not see this thing until late June, though I’m just guessing based on internet hearsay. Maybe Ruth will have a dose of reality for me tomorrow.
The annoyance sets in when I look at the alternatives. I checked out Leer, but since American Auto Glass folded, the nearest dealers are out in Glenville or Bennington. I’m not exactly thrilled at the prospect of driving an hour each way twice and then have to figure out what to do while new cap is being installed. Besides, Leer doesn’t offer the bells and whistles ARE does. I thought about those prefab steel caps—indestructible, sure—but I want windows with screens. I want to be able to reach in from the side with the sliding windows that open like the Outdoorman Windows on ARE Caps. I also need a front window that opens so I can run cables or with boot to the cab letting a little A/C or heat circulate while I’m camping back there.
Some folks suggest a full slide-in camper, but I can’t stand the thought of all that bulk. All that fabric and particle board just waiting to get soggy? No thanks. I’d much rather cook my meals under the open sky and poop in a bucket outside. Keeps the smells out of my sleeping quarters, and frankly, the bears don’t need the invitation.
I suppose I could just wait for ARE Cap. I plan on keeping this SuperDuty for fifteen years, so what’s a few months? I’m not some kid I once was looking to ruin a perfectly good truck with a lift kit and “ginamormous” tires that prematurely wear out everything. The 33 mud tires it came with are plenty, and that Minizilla engine with the one-ton axles should make it hopefully to my retirement without replacement. So waiting seems worth it.
But a summer without a shell feels a bit hollow. I’ve already resigned myself to a “shell-less” through June. I might do some hammock camping at Cole Hill State Forest—just a night or two at that hillside spot I like. I could brave the Adirondacks, but that’s black fly territory. Honestly, camping in a cloud of biting flies is a special kind of misery I’m not sure I’m ready to volunteer for.
I’ll miss the easy nights in the woods, the fires, and the glow of the camp electric lights, but staying closer to home isn’t the worst fate with gas prices climbing toward the moon as look up from my campsite. I don’t think my SuperDuty is that hungry, compared t some, but it is a HD truck. I can manage my trash and recycling without fires in wilderness the legal and proper way at the transfer station or sneak a bag into a bin along the way. I’ve made it ten weeks without a truck; I can survive another ten without a cap. It will save money to not be doing many trips in near futrue, which is more I can invest in my camping future.
The real goal is autumn. That’s when the shell becomes a necessity. Even if Michigan trip falls through for this summer, I want to spend my Fridays through Mondays working remote from camp come the autumn. With the truck’s free one year of unlimited Wi-Fi, a second solar panel, and my old battery setup, I’ll have a proper mobile office. Labor Day is twenty weeks away. Surely, even in this sluggish world, I can get that big fancy piece of fiberglass delivered by then.
It is what it is. I could kick myself for waiting until March to get the truck, but I didn’t want the thing marinating in road salt all winter anyway. It saved me on insurance and fuel while I wasn’t going anywhere. This summer isn’t the end of the world. Michigan will still be there next year, and the truck will be in better shape for it.
By looking at the crops planted, you can distinctively see the Black River Valley between the hills of the Western Adirondacks and the Tug Hill Plateau.
Angie Howard lives in a walkable neighborhood in Portland, Ore., and works from home, so she has not had to shell out for higher gas prices since the war in the Middle East began. Still, Ms. Howard, who lives alone, said she had noticed costs jumping all around her anyway. “You go into the grocery store, you buy the things you normally would, and then all of a sudden it’s $20 or $30 more there, and you start to see additional fuel charges,” she said. “And at the end of the week, where you would normally have two nickels to rub together, now they’re not there.”
But first a brilliantly sunny morning to start the day, as I ride my bike to work. I’ll pack a rain coat. Things are starting to green up, slowly but surely, but I suspect things will really start to pop into bloom come next week.
I slept much better come morning, 🛏️ once I opened my windows. I dream of nights in wilderness, but it’s not going to happen for a while until I get my truck cap, though I might hammock camp with the screen in the mean-time. Thinking about how long it will be before I have my truck cap has me down, 🐜 but black fly season camping sucks, and with gas prices likely to be elevated all summer, ⛽ maybe it’s best to minimize miles on the new SuperDuty.
Last night was another Save the Pine Bush meeting via Zoom, which I did from Five Rivers. It was a nice evening, breezy and a lot of people at Five Rivers until around dark, but I enjoyed the fresh air and it wasn’t too cool. I tried to not be too much of an argumentative, contentious fellow, but yeah I’m kind of a blow-hard at those kinds of meetins.
Apple 🍏 cinnamon carrot 🥕 pancakes this morning, 🥞 like usual, it helps buffer and fill my stomach so I’m not hungry all days. I grated up a massive fat carrot and then half of a smaller one, I try to include one to two cups of carrots in my mix, so I can use much less whole wheat flour, and that fiber not only helps with passing the stool but also keeping my stomach full as I hate to be hungry. 😋
Tomorrow it’s off to Ruth’s to order the truck cap, 🚚 and get the bad news about how long I have to wait. ☹️ Then off to Goodwill and Salvation Army to look for some more work clothes. Then maybe a hike in Albany Pine Bush until dark, and then maybe I’ll swing by Wally World Albany Edition for groceries and supplies. I don’t want to get too much stuff, but just basics. And then head home. ⛽ It will be interesting to see what the fuel economy of the SuperDuty is when I’m driving through traffic with that big block.
Well folks, I need to get in the shower and then head off to work on this most beautiful of spring days, as the birds chirp and the grass starts to green up. Of course, I’m riding my bike in this morning, but I’ll also bring a rain coat to ensure no rain this evening. Probably have meetings downtown, so if it pours by evening I can take the bus home, assuming the iRide app works on my phone as my Navigator card is now disabled.
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which I did from Five Rivers. 
It was a nice evening, breezy and a lot of people at Five Rivers until around dark, but I enjoyed the fresh air and it wasn’t too cool. I tried to not be too much of an argumentative, contentious fellow, but yeah I’m kind of a blow-hard at those kinds of meetins.
and then head off to work on this most beautiful of spring days, 
as the birds chirp 
and the grass starts to green up. 
Of course, I’m riding my bike in this morning, 
but I’ll also bring a rain coat 
to ensure no rain this evening. Probably have meetings downtown, so if it pours by evening I can take the bus home, assuming the iRide app works on my phone as my Navigator card is now disabled.