It’s time to begin my sabbatical blog. We’ll call it “Roamin’ Rev Ramblin’s.”
I began my sabbatical May 15. After a couple of quick trips, on May 22 I finally left Phoenix to begin the journey back to our cabin in Minnesota, which will be the base camp for my various projects and adventures until I return to Shepherd of the Valley the middle of August.
Now, in order to properly set the stage for upcoming blogs, and to make my adventures a bit more understandable, let’s get the “material” out of the way.
Preparing for the coming year, we needed one more car, now that both of our kids drive. I made the executive decision that it was finally time for me to get the car that “I” wanted. You would have to go back decades to find that situation.
I don’t follow cars much, but it occurred to me that I really like the newest Ford Mustangs. After a discussion with a couple of guys who do know cars, I realized that since 2005 Ford has been making the Mustang to look like it did from 1964-1968, the first years it was built. Well, that corresponds exactly with my high school years, and I guess unconsciously nostalgia overtook me.
And, of course, like nearly every Phoenician, I had to have a least one convertible. I quickly discovered on the Ford website that a new Mustang was beyond what I was willing to pay. Thanks to autotrader.com, and stops at three dealerships, I found a 2005 blue Ford Mustang Convertible in fantastic condition with only 4300 miles on it.
Next, at a PGA promotion at the Accenture Match Play Championshiop in Tucson, where I had gone in March to follow Tiger Woods, I received a satellite radio kit for $10 if I would sign up for 6 months of service. Installing it myself, much to the surprise of my wife, most of the time it is tuned to the 60’s and 70’s channel, and when I am missing my wife, to the channel called The Heart which presents a steady progression of love songs (Honey, are you following my blog?)
Two trips to Sanderson Ford gave me a license plate holder that says “1968,” the year of my high school graduation, and a cap that says, “Ford Mustang: The Legend Lives.”
Finally, there was the issue of a vanity plate, which I swore I would never have. Since I was a child my nickname has been Bear. Even in Mexico, I was known as Oso Grande (Big Bear.) A quick search of the Arizona government website revealed that our license plates can contain up to 7 letters, and, guess what: REVBEAR was not taken. Much to my delighted surprise, I received two license plates (for you now-Arizonans, we are not required to have a license plate on the front of our vehicles) and so now, for better or worse, people get to guess what I do for a living from both directions. And Mary, my wife, got to keep the golfing license plate on the front of her Ford Windstar.
I have already had several people ask me if I am going through a midlife crisis, to which I respond, “If only I was still at midlife.”
So, there you have it. Now you will be able to understand why, when I pulled up to my motel room in Lusk, Wyoming this afternoon, the guy next door said to me, “Does this mean I will have to listen to you preach in the morning?” Of course, I am hoping that if he is planning on a loud, drinking party tonight, that he might change his mind.
I know. I am a dreamer.
I began my sabbatical May 15. After a couple of quick trips, on May 22 I finally left Phoenix to begin the journey back to our cabin in Minnesota, which will be the base camp for my various projects and adventures until I return to Shepherd of the Valley the middle of August.
Now, in order to properly set the stage for upcoming blogs, and to make my adventures a bit more understandable, let’s get the “material” out of the way.
Preparing for the coming year, we needed one more car, now that both of our kids drive. I made the executive decision that it was finally time for me to get the car that “I” wanted. You would have to go back decades to find that situation.
I don’t follow cars much, but it occurred to me that I really like the newest Ford Mustangs. After a discussion with a couple of guys who do know cars, I realized that since 2005 Ford has been making the Mustang to look like it did from 1964-1968, the first years it was built. Well, that corresponds exactly with my high school years, and I guess unconsciously nostalgia overtook me.
And, of course, like nearly every Phoenician, I had to have a least one convertible. I quickly discovered on the Ford website that a new Mustang was beyond what I was willing to pay. Thanks to autotrader.com, and stops at three dealerships, I found a 2005 blue Ford Mustang Convertible in fantastic condition with only 4300 miles on it.
Next, at a PGA promotion at the Accenture Match Play Championshiop in Tucson, where I had gone in March to follow Tiger Woods, I received a satellite radio kit for $10 if I would sign up for 6 months of service. Installing it myself, much to the surprise of my wife, most of the time it is tuned to the 60’s and 70’s channel, and when I am missing my wife, to the channel called The Heart which presents a steady progression of love songs (Honey, are you following my blog?)
Two trips to Sanderson Ford gave me a license plate holder that says “1968,” the year of my high school graduation, and a cap that says, “Ford Mustang: The Legend Lives.”
Finally, there was the issue of a vanity plate, which I swore I would never have. Since I was a child my nickname has been Bear. Even in Mexico, I was known as Oso Grande (Big Bear.) A quick search of the Arizona government website revealed that our license plates can contain up to 7 letters, and, guess what: REVBEAR was not taken. Much to my delighted surprise, I received two license plates (for you now-Arizonans, we are not required to have a license plate on the front of our vehicles) and so now, for better or worse, people get to guess what I do for a living from both directions. And Mary, my wife, got to keep the golfing license plate on the front of her Ford Windstar.
I have already had several people ask me if I am going through a midlife crisis, to which I respond, “If only I was still at midlife.”
So, there you have it. Now you will be able to understand why, when I pulled up to my motel room in Lusk, Wyoming this afternoon, the guy next door said to me, “Does this mean I will have to listen to you preach in the morning?” Of course, I am hoping that if he is planning on a loud, drinking party tonight, that he might change his mind.
I know. I am a dreamer.
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