Day 6 (371) – January 6, 2019
The local fire house got a new truck recently. Driving past their auxiliary garage, I noticed that for a what I would imagine to be a good chunk of change, you could get yourself a used hose and ladder truck or an ambulance. It’s a sight you just don’t see every day. As I walked by the main fire house this morning, the shine off the new truck caught my eye. When I turned look, the row of gear, neatly and methodically hung, struck me. There was something about it that just stopped me in my tracks and left me riddled with somber thoughts. Knowing that each of those kits is occupied by someone who has volunteered (80% are volunteers) to risk their life, to fight an opponent with the power to make each of them a huge underdog, is a sobering thought. Especially when you look at the number of kits ready for their occupants to come home. When I moved to Albuquerque back in 1990, I actually took the test to become a firefighter. I passed the written and returned the following day to do the physical portion. After the 4th (of 7) obstacle, my breakfast decided that it was giving up, and as is policy, if that happens, it’s immediate disqualification. I am not sure why I didn’t go back and retest. I really wanted to be a firefighter. But I suppose it just wasn’t in the plans. I was fairly certain, as well, that I had managed to get through the most difficult obstacle on the course and that the last 3 wouldn’t have been as much of a struggle. I blamed the altitude. I still do.
Look What I Found