OK, I think I’ve finally mustered the courage to start this particular story. It’s 3 parts so I think that the daunting task has discouraged me. So, here goes….
This story begins on a weekday evening, March of 1990 or possibly 1991. Honestly, I don’t remember the correct year, but because we were still living on Moffett Drive, it was before Alessandra was born.
This particularly beautiful spring day I had taken Charlotte and Cara skiing at Mammoth. We had returned home about 4:00 in the afternoon and things were just settling in for the day. About 5:30 as the sun was still shining brightly outside, my pager went off, “Attention Bishop Volunteers, Attention Bishop Volunteers, we have a report of a structure fire at Green Motors on Main St., please respond.”
Green Motors was a fairly large Chevy dealership in the middle of town. It had a showroom large enough for 2 or 3 new cars and a repair center that seemed to be able to hold 20 cars inside, 10 on each side the large garage portion of the building. It was owned by Joe & Jan Green whom we knew from town; in fact Melodie had worked for the dealership for a while when were first married.
Before the announcement was even finished I was heading out the front door to jump in my pickup and drive to the firehouse. From Moffett I could look about six blocks west and 2 blocks north and immediately saw a large thick column of black smoke. I took just a moment to stop and holler to Melodie and the girls to look outside, this was going to be a big one. In fact, little did I know then, but this fire would be the largest fire I would ever respond to.
I arrived at the Main Station to find that Engine 10 had already responded and the next truck to roll would be Engine 6, a 1959 American LaFrance with an incredibly low 6300 miles on it. It was in mint condition and was capable of pumping 1250 gallons per minute. It had room for a crew of 6 , 2 in the cab, 2 in the jump seats and 2 more on the tailboard. However on this particular day the Engineer rolled with just 2 in the cab and 2 on the tailboard, Alan Kendrick and me.
With full lights and siren and all the air horn we could muster we turned north onto Main Street only to see that the column of smoke had continued to increase in size and anger.
Alan and I knew that we would be “taking a hydrant” on this fire, it was going to be a long night. Note: Most fire apparatus carry between 250 and 1000 gallons of water and on large fires it is necessary to find a source, typically a hydrant. Pumping at ½ of its capacity Engine 6 would be out of water with in 120-180 seconds of arrival, but this should be enough time to connect the hydrant to the intake of the pump to continue the assault on the advancing fire.
The discussion on the tailboard was about who would take the hydrant while the other began donning a SCBA (Self Contained Breathing Apparatus), a tank that should last 30 minutes. It was pretty obvious that I would be closest to the hydrant and it made sense that I wrap the fireplug and send the truck down the road a bit while I worked to connect the source. I was disappointed because this meant it was likely that I would not be on the hose of the initial attack. It was my favorite place to be, on the tip of the nozzle, where the most action was to be had.
I completed my task and moved quickly back to Engine 6 that had pulled across the road closer to the structure. I noticed that the initial attack had not been launched so I quickly put on my SCBA, a task that I could do in less than 60 seconds. As I came up to the tip of the hose I realized that Chief Phil Moxley had decided to wait until we had multiple lines charged and ready before we opened the locked drive through door to the garage. This was my lucky day. Alan would be on the tip and I would get the chance to be right behind him after all.
The padlock was broken and we began to crawl our way in. The fire was raging in a fairly large but confined area about 75 feet beyond the doorway. It was dark and smoky as we moved forward. Within 5 feet of entering the smoke, Alan dropped the nozzle and motioned to me that we were backing out. Apparently he had not taken enough time to put on his mask properly and was taking smoke in through the seal. He was going back outside to adjust it. As I picked up the tip I really knew it was my lucky day. Before I reentered I felt the presence of a second firefighter and turned to see Battalion Chief Dick Weller behind me. Dick was the training officer for the department and with 25+ years of experience there was no one else that would give me more comfort in this situation.
We crawled our way into the building through heavy thick smoke. After about 60 feet we began our assault on the seat of the fire before us. In the meantime additional men and equipment began to arrive, setup and also make attacks.
We had been working on our knees for about 20-25 minutes when I felt a loud, heavy thump on my left shoulder. It was Weller and through his mask he told me to we were to drop the tip and get out as fast as possible. I knew that something was wrong because in a typical situation you back out with the tip in your hand as others pulled the slack from the outside. His instructions were very clear and he pointed to the ceiling of the building. I knew his point was that the roof was coming in and we were in danger.
Even though the smoke had cleared some it was still very difficult to see more than a foot or so in front of my face. I turned and immediately became disoriented. There was no way to find my bearings. Weller was there and calmly grabbed my hand and placed it on the hose. From that point my training kicked in and I simply crawled out to safety using the hose line as my guide.
Within a minute after our exit the entire roof did collapse as expected and from that point on the firefight went from “offensive” to “defensive”, in that we conceded that we had lost this building and our job now as to contain it so that no other neighboring buildings were also lost.
In less than one hour the Bishop Volunteer Fire Department was 100% committed to this fire. Of the 55 men on the department, 52 were on scene, 2 were out of town and one was home in bed with the flu. We were so committed that we asked an Engine Company from the neighboring town of Big Pine to come and sit at our station just in case a second call came in while we were mopping up at Green Motors.
TO BE CONTINUED: Green Motors Fire – The Investigation (Part Two)
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
Saturday, January 30, 2010
Let's Go Camping!!
Well these are words that I don’t think Melodie will ever answer positively to again. We’ve done plenty of camping over the years but our last trip might have been the trip to end it all. Let me explain.
This trip occurred over Memorial weekend 2008. It was sort of a last minute idea to hook our tent trailer to the pickup, put our road bikes in the back of the pickup and take ourselves up to the Skagit Valley; a lush, fertile valley about an hour and a half north of Seattle. The area is abundant with flat country roads perfect for cycling. When we weren’t riding we’d stay around camp and read and such. It was a perfect plan.
The first challenge we has was to find a location. Since we had waited until just a week before the holiday we felt lucky to find a space at a KOA near Burlington. I’ve always thought of camping as fairly cheap, but campsites were $35 per night. Kind of pricey but that did include wireless internet near our site and since I was on call that weekend, that was an added bonus.
As we were packing to leave on Friday morning I noticed my lawn was looking pretty shabby and since there was no time to get it done while camping I found a lawn maintenance company driving by that would give it a quick trim for just $40. Next we had to buy food and gas for the trip. Groceries came to about $100 and to fill the pickup was $55.
We checked the weather and it looked like it might be cooler and wetter than we liked and might end up spending the weekend in the trailer. Rather than cancel the trip I went to Costco and bought a portable DVD player. That would be our plan if the weather was bad.
We arrived at our site Friday afternoon and it wasn’t long before we were so cold that we needed to buy firewood from the KOA store. Each bundle was about $20.
The first night was miserable. We couldn’t get our heater to work in the trailer and after waking discovered that the much needed, yet 5-year old battery, had died. Into town we went to buy the replacement battery. Oh, and it’s really too late to go back to camp and make breakfast so we decided to eat out in town.
The rain was relentless. Alessandra and I tried to sit outside next to the fire, reading and playing cribbage, proving we were troopers, while Melodie stayed inside watching DVDs and reading. Over the weekend we continued to run back to the KOA store to pickup bundles of firewood. The weather never did get nice enough to even take the bikes out of the back of the pickup. Finally on Monday we took our wet selves back to home and took warm showers as they were much needed.
On our trip home we did some quick calculations.
3 nights stay at the KOA @ $35 = $ 115
Lawn service = $ 40
Food for weekend = $ 100
Gas for pickup = $ 55
New battery = $ 60
Breakfast out = $ 45
DVD player = $ 100
5 bundles of firewood @ $20 = $ 100
Saturday evening ice cream social = $ 15
Total for the cheap camping weekend $ 630
After totaling this Melodie was a bit frustrated as she wasn’t 100% behind this camping weekend anyway. I was more optimistic about the weather, she was more realistic. But she looked at me and said that this may be her last camping trip. Her exact words were “For the money we spent we could have had 2 nights stay at the Four Seasons Olympic in downtown Seattle.” This might have been a better weekend.
She was correct. I had no argument.
Anyone want a tent trailer? It's a great way to have a cheap weekend away!!
This trip occurred over Memorial weekend 2008. It was sort of a last minute idea to hook our tent trailer to the pickup, put our road bikes in the back of the pickup and take ourselves up to the Skagit Valley; a lush, fertile valley about an hour and a half north of Seattle. The area is abundant with flat country roads perfect for cycling. When we weren’t riding we’d stay around camp and read and such. It was a perfect plan.
The first challenge we has was to find a location. Since we had waited until just a week before the holiday we felt lucky to find a space at a KOA near Burlington. I’ve always thought of camping as fairly cheap, but campsites were $35 per night. Kind of pricey but that did include wireless internet near our site and since I was on call that weekend, that was an added bonus.
As we were packing to leave on Friday morning I noticed my lawn was looking pretty shabby and since there was no time to get it done while camping I found a lawn maintenance company driving by that would give it a quick trim for just $40. Next we had to buy food and gas for the trip. Groceries came to about $100 and to fill the pickup was $55.
We checked the weather and it looked like it might be cooler and wetter than we liked and might end up spending the weekend in the trailer. Rather than cancel the trip I went to Costco and bought a portable DVD player. That would be our plan if the weather was bad.
We arrived at our site Friday afternoon and it wasn’t long before we were so cold that we needed to buy firewood from the KOA store. Each bundle was about $20.
The first night was miserable. We couldn’t get our heater to work in the trailer and after waking discovered that the much needed, yet 5-year old battery, had died. Into town we went to buy the replacement battery. Oh, and it’s really too late to go back to camp and make breakfast so we decided to eat out in town.
The rain was relentless. Alessandra and I tried to sit outside next to the fire, reading and playing cribbage, proving we were troopers, while Melodie stayed inside watching DVDs and reading. Over the weekend we continued to run back to the KOA store to pickup bundles of firewood. The weather never did get nice enough to even take the bikes out of the back of the pickup. Finally on Monday we took our wet selves back to home and took warm showers as they were much needed.
On our trip home we did some quick calculations.
3 nights stay at the KOA @ $35 = $ 115
Lawn service = $ 40
Food for weekend = $ 100
Gas for pickup = $ 55
New battery = $ 60
Breakfast out = $ 45
DVD player = $ 100
5 bundles of firewood @ $20 = $ 100
Saturday evening ice cream social = $ 15
Total for the cheap camping weekend $ 630
After totaling this Melodie was a bit frustrated as she wasn’t 100% behind this camping weekend anyway. I was more optimistic about the weather, she was more realistic. But she looked at me and said that this may be her last camping trip. Her exact words were “For the money we spent we could have had 2 nights stay at the Four Seasons Olympic in downtown Seattle.” This might have been a better weekend.
She was correct. I had no argument.
Anyone want a tent trailer? It's a great way to have a cheap weekend away!!
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
The Comeback in the nick of time!
You know those situations where you have an encounter, you don’t know what to say and then you mumble some lame, nonsensical comment, only to think of the perfect comeback hours later? Well me too, except for yesterday.
I was standing at the Membership counter at Costco, waiting for the employee to finish with the current customer. Rather than standing right at the counter where I might make the employee uncomfortable, I stayed back about 3 or 4 feet from the counter. There was an older man, 75ish, in line behind me and just as the guy was finishing up with the first customer, the man walked past me and went up to the counter.
The Costco employee finishes and then walks to where the old guy is and says “can I help you?” I’m waiting for him to point my way and reply, “no, he was first”. That didn’t happen and I was pretty hot about it. I didn’t say a thing, just simply stepped closer to the counter, making the employee nervous as previously avoided. He looks up and says “do you need something”, to which I reply “I was just waiting for you to help me.”
The man who stepped past me looks my way, winks at me and then says, “I didn’t mean to cut in front of you.” This was the defining moment. I paused for a few seconds, looked directly at him and said, very clearly, “Actually, I think you did. You knew I was in line ahead of you, but you just decided that your time was more valuable than mine.” I think he was surprised that I didn’t just roll over. No further words were exchanged; no victory was obtained. But I felt a lot better for having given him my perspective, rather than simply raising my hand and saying, “no problem”. What do you think?
I was standing at the Membership counter at Costco, waiting for the employee to finish with the current customer. Rather than standing right at the counter where I might make the employee uncomfortable, I stayed back about 3 or 4 feet from the counter. There was an older man, 75ish, in line behind me and just as the guy was finishing up with the first customer, the man walked past me and went up to the counter.
The Costco employee finishes and then walks to where the old guy is and says “can I help you?” I’m waiting for him to point my way and reply, “no, he was first”. That didn’t happen and I was pretty hot about it. I didn’t say a thing, just simply stepped closer to the counter, making the employee nervous as previously avoided. He looks up and says “do you need something”, to which I reply “I was just waiting for you to help me.”
The man who stepped past me looks my way, winks at me and then says, “I didn’t mean to cut in front of you.” This was the defining moment. I paused for a few seconds, looked directly at him and said, very clearly, “Actually, I think you did. You knew I was in line ahead of you, but you just decided that your time was more valuable than mine.” I think he was surprised that I didn’t just roll over. No further words were exchanged; no victory was obtained. But I felt a lot better for having given him my perspective, rather than simply raising my hand and saying, “no problem”. What do you think?
Thursday, October 29, 2009
Mom & Dad, What Were You Thinking?
This story goes back as far as the early 70s, long before I met Melodie but not before I first met a bicycle. For many troubled youths bicycling became an escape from a rough family life. They would travel into worlds unknown for as long as they could before returning home to a turbulent life. This was not the case for me.
I loved being on a bike for the simple joy of having the air blow in my face. I love to hear the sounds and smell the smells. I don’t know, maybe I’m part cocker spaniel or something. Anyway, I have had a bike (or 2 or 3) ever since I was old enough to ride “a two wheeler”. I dreamed of one day taking my bike on the open road. I had little, ok no, idea of what that entailed; but I was going to do it someday.
That day finally arrived in 1971, the summer between my years at James Monroe Jr. High and Burroughs High School. I don’t really recall where the genesis for this trip was but at some point my friend, Gary Woods, and I decided we would take a bike trip. I was 14 years old and Gary was 13 years old. Neither of us had a bike worthy of going but that didn’t deter us. Mine, was actually my sister Nancy’s bike, an old 10-speed Schwinn that she had paid $10 for at a yard sale.
We didn’t have modern day “panniers” which are bags that are attached to the frame near each wheel, so we improvised with what we knew. Being avid backpackers we simply devised a plan to secure my backpack to the bike rack on the rear. Dad found some angle metal that allowed us to cut and fashion the perfect solution. Once completed, I could take my backpack, set it on the base of the frame, just above the rear wheel, and strap it to the uprights. Gary’s bike came over for the same retrofit job. Once loaded this 25-30 pound pack made the bike extremely heavy and unstable, the entire weight of it all resting on what were probably $.15 bolts (only 3) attached to the bike frame.
Our plan, albeit loosely defined, was to get dropped of at Lone Pine where we would camp and fish for a few days and then we would ride our bikes back to Ridgecrest, a distance of 80 miles. The route would be Hwy 395, which even now is not a route I would call safe. Then it was mostly a 2-lane road with an occasional 3rd center lane for passing. The “bike lane” then and now could not have been more than 4 feet wide at its most generous point.
My dad drove us to Lone Pine on the appointed day and dropped us off at Tuttle Creek Campground, just about ¾ of a mile from the town center. There was a stream for fresh water and bathrooms nearby. The proximity of the town would facilitate both food and entertainment. We each had about $20 for the 4-day trip, but since we expected to catch and eat most of our dinners that seemed very doable.
We explored town and many of the side streets on our bikes. One day we rode our bikes about 4 miles up Whitney Portal Road to where we found excellent fishing. We both caught our maximum, coasted back to our camp, unloaded and head back up to do it again. Our youthfulness knew no limits of energy. One day we rode north to Independence, a distance of 32 miles round trip, just to eat a burger and milk shake. I don’t remember if the burger joint was our destination or simply what we did to once we arrived at the smaller town and county seat.
For four days and three nights we had an absolute blast. There were no beds to make, certainly no lawns to mow but best of all we were our own captains. We rode when we wanted, ate when we wanted, slept when we wanted and arose when we were good and ready. However there came a time when we were expected to be home so we prepared ourselves for the ride south.
We woke early that day and packed up our equipment and loaded them on the bikes. This was really going to be our first effort to ride any considerable distance with the racks fully loaded. After a few miles I knew this was going to be tougher than expected. Although we each had one water bottle fitted snuggly in a new bottle cage recently purchased from Western Auto on China Lake Blvd, we had absolutely no training; we had no tools or extra equipment for repairs and to top it off we didn’t have a two pennies to rub together.
I think my most vivid memory is of the heat and my unquenchable thirst. My water bottle became bone dry after 10 miles or so. At one point we were coasting down a hill and saw some greenery along side the road. There were a few cars pulled over there so we figured it must be a rest area of sorts and would certainly yield us more water for our bottles. We stopped. Not only was there no water to be had, we also lost all of our downhill momentum in the failed effort.
We continued on and after 20 miles we were nearing Cartago. There wasn’t much there, and certainly less today, except an auto repair shop and a few homes. About a mile from town I spotted and retrieved from the side of the road an 8-inch Crescent Wrench that someone had the misfortune of losing. I put it in my pocket for safekeeping.
Just as we were approaching Cartago part of the framework my dad and I had fashioned broke. This loose piece wanted to work its way into my spokes and made riding impossible. Now, you probably think that I’m going to tell you the wrench I found allowed me to fix the problem and triumphantly finish the ride. Not so. Who do you think I was, a 14-year old MacGyver?
The breakdown was a big problem. It quickly became evident that this was a showstopper. Gary and I never talked about it but I believe both of us were somewhat relieved that we had an excuse to abandon the trip. In our youthful excitement we had clearly bitten off more than we could chew or swallow. Today I wonder if our parents knew this and were willing to simply let us learn a life lesson. If not, then I have to ask, “Mom and Dad, what were you thinking?” Were you crazy? We were just 13 and 14.
Well, we limped our way into town and pulled into the auto repair shop. The mechanic took time to look at our problem and agreed there was no way to repair it without the likelihood that it would fail again just 5 miles down the road. We were going to have to call home to get rescued.
We had no money……but I did have that wrench. With little hesitation I accepted the offer from the mechanic to trade that wrench for 4 quarters. It was enough to make the call home and buy each of us a pop to quench our thirst while we waited for the ride to show.
I really wish I had pictures from this trip, as it was such a blast. Was it a failure? In some respects yes, and in other respects it was a launching pad to bigger and better things. I have continued to cycle since those days and have had much more success at planning and executing successful trips. Please see http://www.crazyguyonabike.com/doc/ttfc for an example. Thanks for joining me on this adventure.
I loved being on a bike for the simple joy of having the air blow in my face. I love to hear the sounds and smell the smells. I don’t know, maybe I’m part cocker spaniel or something. Anyway, I have had a bike (or 2 or 3) ever since I was old enough to ride “a two wheeler”. I dreamed of one day taking my bike on the open road. I had little, ok no, idea of what that entailed; but I was going to do it someday.
That day finally arrived in 1971, the summer between my years at James Monroe Jr. High and Burroughs High School. I don’t really recall where the genesis for this trip was but at some point my friend, Gary Woods, and I decided we would take a bike trip. I was 14 years old and Gary was 13 years old. Neither of us had a bike worthy of going but that didn’t deter us. Mine, was actually my sister Nancy’s bike, an old 10-speed Schwinn that she had paid $10 for at a yard sale.
We didn’t have modern day “panniers” which are bags that are attached to the frame near each wheel, so we improvised with what we knew. Being avid backpackers we simply devised a plan to secure my backpack to the bike rack on the rear. Dad found some angle metal that allowed us to cut and fashion the perfect solution. Once completed, I could take my backpack, set it on the base of the frame, just above the rear wheel, and strap it to the uprights. Gary’s bike came over for the same retrofit job. Once loaded this 25-30 pound pack made the bike extremely heavy and unstable, the entire weight of it all resting on what were probably $.15 bolts (only 3) attached to the bike frame.
Our plan, albeit loosely defined, was to get dropped of at Lone Pine where we would camp and fish for a few days and then we would ride our bikes back to Ridgecrest, a distance of 80 miles. The route would be Hwy 395, which even now is not a route I would call safe. Then it was mostly a 2-lane road with an occasional 3rd center lane for passing. The “bike lane” then and now could not have been more than 4 feet wide at its most generous point.
My dad drove us to Lone Pine on the appointed day and dropped us off at Tuttle Creek Campground, just about ¾ of a mile from the town center. There was a stream for fresh water and bathrooms nearby. The proximity of the town would facilitate both food and entertainment. We each had about $20 for the 4-day trip, but since we expected to catch and eat most of our dinners that seemed very doable.
We explored town and many of the side streets on our bikes. One day we rode our bikes about 4 miles up Whitney Portal Road to where we found excellent fishing. We both caught our maximum, coasted back to our camp, unloaded and head back up to do it again. Our youthfulness knew no limits of energy. One day we rode north to Independence, a distance of 32 miles round trip, just to eat a burger and milk shake. I don’t remember if the burger joint was our destination or simply what we did to once we arrived at the smaller town and county seat.
For four days and three nights we had an absolute blast. There were no beds to make, certainly no lawns to mow but best of all we were our own captains. We rode when we wanted, ate when we wanted, slept when we wanted and arose when we were good and ready. However there came a time when we were expected to be home so we prepared ourselves for the ride south.
We woke early that day and packed up our equipment and loaded them on the bikes. This was really going to be our first effort to ride any considerable distance with the racks fully loaded. After a few miles I knew this was going to be tougher than expected. Although we each had one water bottle fitted snuggly in a new bottle cage recently purchased from Western Auto on China Lake Blvd, we had absolutely no training; we had no tools or extra equipment for repairs and to top it off we didn’t have a two pennies to rub together.
I think my most vivid memory is of the heat and my unquenchable thirst. My water bottle became bone dry after 10 miles or so. At one point we were coasting down a hill and saw some greenery along side the road. There were a few cars pulled over there so we figured it must be a rest area of sorts and would certainly yield us more water for our bottles. We stopped. Not only was there no water to be had, we also lost all of our downhill momentum in the failed effort.
We continued on and after 20 miles we were nearing Cartago. There wasn’t much there, and certainly less today, except an auto repair shop and a few homes. About a mile from town I spotted and retrieved from the side of the road an 8-inch Crescent Wrench that someone had the misfortune of losing. I put it in my pocket for safekeeping.
Just as we were approaching Cartago part of the framework my dad and I had fashioned broke. This loose piece wanted to work its way into my spokes and made riding impossible. Now, you probably think that I’m going to tell you the wrench I found allowed me to fix the problem and triumphantly finish the ride. Not so. Who do you think I was, a 14-year old MacGyver?
The breakdown was a big problem. It quickly became evident that this was a showstopper. Gary and I never talked about it but I believe both of us were somewhat relieved that we had an excuse to abandon the trip. In our youthful excitement we had clearly bitten off more than we could chew or swallow. Today I wonder if our parents knew this and were willing to simply let us learn a life lesson. If not, then I have to ask, “Mom and Dad, what were you thinking?” Were you crazy? We were just 13 and 14.
Well, we limped our way into town and pulled into the auto repair shop. The mechanic took time to look at our problem and agreed there was no way to repair it without the likelihood that it would fail again just 5 miles down the road. We were going to have to call home to get rescued.
We had no money……but I did have that wrench. With little hesitation I accepted the offer from the mechanic to trade that wrench for 4 quarters. It was enough to make the call home and buy each of us a pop to quench our thirst while we waited for the ride to show.
I really wish I had pictures from this trip, as it was such a blast. Was it a failure? In some respects yes, and in other respects it was a launching pad to bigger and better things. I have continued to cycle since those days and have had much more success at planning and executing successful trips. Please see http://www.crazyguyonabike.com/doc/ttfc for an example. Thanks for joining me on this adventure.
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
It’s a Burger To Go
Each year the BFD would host an awards dinner. We would take all of the engines out of the main bay at Station 1, sweep, mop, set up tables and chairs and throw ourselves a party. This was the one and only time when alcohol was available at the firehouse, as wine was served that night. You might think it’s stupid for the one and only fire department in town to start drinking together but it wasn’t really that way. There was always about 15 or 20 men who didn’t drink at any time and this was no exception. Addtionally there were always designated firemen who were not allowed to leave the city limits. We called this “on standby” and this assignment rotated every 2 weeks. These 5 men had to stay at the firehouse even if the rest of us left the city limits. The logic being that we needed to be able to respond with a full engine company to the city limits at any given time. If you were designated as “on standby” during this dinner you also couldn’t drink. So, out of 55 firemen there were nearly half there that didn’t drink wine that night. Now that I have managed to digress a bit, I’ll continue.
This special awards dinner was the culminating night of the year for everyone. Awards and promotions were given and we wanted to honor each other and do so in front of our families that supported us throughout the year. I remember that every year as the event approached, Phil Moxley, the fire chief would always remind us to bring our families and guests in this manner, “Bring your wife or your girlfriend, but please don’t bring both. We don’t need that kind of mess that night”.
Here is another digression that I must take. At this dinner there were nearly 100 -120 people. Some had attended the dinner for years, others were new to the department or had just recently married or begun dating a fireman, but it was a huge crowd. Every year, Stan Lloyd, the Assistant Fire Chief would get up and without notes introduce everyone in attendance. He would simply go down the tables and say “This is Steve Perkins and his wife Melodie, next to them is Ray Walker and his date, Susan. Across from them is longtime friend of the fire department and widow of…..”, until everyone in that room was introduced. Occasionally he’d have to pause to remember a name of someone he had just met that night, but he’d do an amazing job. At the end there would be an applause. It was awesome.
Anyway, because the dinner was hosted by the members, we created a committee of about 5 guys to plan and present the awards, etc. For many years I was on that committee and enjoyed taking the time to plan and prepare. This required about 5 or 6 meetings in the months just proceeding the dinner. One Tuesday night I had barely made it home from work in time for the meeting so I simply picked up a couple of burgers and arrived just as the meeting started.
We began our discussion and I started chowing down my first burger. It was so good, because I was so hungry. I was only a few bites into it when our pagers went off, “Attention Bishop Volunteers, Attention Bishop Volunteers, please respond to an auto accident, with possible extrication at North Sierra Highway and Tu Su Lane.” Before the announcement was finished we were all scrambling for the trucks. I ended up dressed and in the driver’s seat of Engine 5, our utility vehicle. I fired it up and realized since we were at the station it was still going to 2-3 minutes for enough men to staff that rig before I could roll. I hopped out, leaving Frank Carr in the passenger side and ran back and got my 2 burgers.
Shortly we had our crew and headed north on Main Street, full lights, siren and air horn, which by the way is so fun you wouldn’t believe it.
After a few blocks Frank looked over at me and said, “What are you doing?” It was at that point I realized I was driving code 3 with one hand and eating my burger with the other. I just looked him and said, “it’s a burger to go”, reached in the pocket of my jacket, pulled out my second and offered it up. “Do you want one?”
At this point we started laughing so hard at our ridiculous situation that it made it very tough to continue, but we managed to settle down by the time we had to pick up the radio and transmit, “Engine 5 to Bishop Base, We are on scene and in service”.
This special awards dinner was the culminating night of the year for everyone. Awards and promotions were given and we wanted to honor each other and do so in front of our families that supported us throughout the year. I remember that every year as the event approached, Phil Moxley, the fire chief would always remind us to bring our families and guests in this manner, “Bring your wife or your girlfriend, but please don’t bring both. We don’t need that kind of mess that night”.
Here is another digression that I must take. At this dinner there were nearly 100 -120 people. Some had attended the dinner for years, others were new to the department or had just recently married or begun dating a fireman, but it was a huge crowd. Every year, Stan Lloyd, the Assistant Fire Chief would get up and without notes introduce everyone in attendance. He would simply go down the tables and say “This is Steve Perkins and his wife Melodie, next to them is Ray Walker and his date, Susan. Across from them is longtime friend of the fire department and widow of…..”, until everyone in that room was introduced. Occasionally he’d have to pause to remember a name of someone he had just met that night, but he’d do an amazing job. At the end there would be an applause. It was awesome.
Anyway, because the dinner was hosted by the members, we created a committee of about 5 guys to plan and present the awards, etc. For many years I was on that committee and enjoyed taking the time to plan and prepare. This required about 5 or 6 meetings in the months just proceeding the dinner. One Tuesday night I had barely made it home from work in time for the meeting so I simply picked up a couple of burgers and arrived just as the meeting started.
We began our discussion and I started chowing down my first burger. It was so good, because I was so hungry. I was only a few bites into it when our pagers went off, “Attention Bishop Volunteers, Attention Bishop Volunteers, please respond to an auto accident, with possible extrication at North Sierra Highway and Tu Su Lane.” Before the announcement was finished we were all scrambling for the trucks. I ended up dressed and in the driver’s seat of Engine 5, our utility vehicle. I fired it up and realized since we were at the station it was still going to 2-3 minutes for enough men to staff that rig before I could roll. I hopped out, leaving Frank Carr in the passenger side and ran back and got my 2 burgers.
Shortly we had our crew and headed north on Main Street, full lights, siren and air horn, which by the way is so fun you wouldn’t believe it.
After a few blocks Frank looked over at me and said, “What are you doing?” It was at that point I realized I was driving code 3 with one hand and eating my burger with the other. I just looked him and said, “it’s a burger to go”, reached in the pocket of my jacket, pulled out my second and offered it up. “Do you want one?”
At this point we started laughing so hard at our ridiculous situation that it made it very tough to continue, but we managed to settle down by the time we had to pick up the radio and transmit, “Engine 5 to Bishop Base, We are on scene and in service”.
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
A sheepish Standby Call
I should have known this was going to be different. It was very unusual for my fire pager to go off and request a crew without being specific what the need was. This was one of those unusual calls.
It began about 2:00 in the morning. I don’t recall what year, but it was a wintery night. My pager went off like this, “Attention Bishop Volunteers, Attention Bishop Volunteers, We need a standby crew to report to Station 1 for assignment”. My assumption was that we were receiving snow and needed to chain up trucks “just in case”.
I got dressed into my turnouts and drove to the firehouse with a bit less urgency than normal. My thoughts raced as questions entered my mind. If we needed to chain trucks, wouldn’t we do so at all 3 stations? And, how come I don’t see any snow at all?
I arrived at station 1 within minutes of the call. I stood and waited with the others until Chief Phil Moxley explained our assignment. North of town there was a wide sweeping turn near the “town” of Laws. It was a turn that could be taken at 50 mph, but not on an icy night. This particular night a tractor and trailer rig hauling a load of sheep was heading south and had not successfully negotiated this turn. It was on its side with the sheep trapped in the trailer. We needed to get the sheep out before a Class 1 wrecker could even attempt to right it.
We arrived on scene to find the scene exactly as described. There were about 200 sheep in this trailer that lay on its side. We had access to the side door but because the way the trailer was, that door was about 8 feet in the air. There was no way we could lift that many sheep to safety.
We made the decision to cut a section out of the back of the trailer, using a metal cutting saw blade and the Jaws of Life. It was harder work than imagined and we only opened a hole large enough to send small men in and sheep out. There was no way these sheep would exit on their own. Many sheep had not survived the accident and others were trapped beneath them. Those that were free were so scared from the accident and then from the equipment we used that they weren’t going anywhere near the hole we had just created.
We sent 3 men in; John Williamson, Dick Weller and Donny Kunze. All 3 were about 5’6” or so and weighed about 150 lbs. The sheep were scared beyond imagination. Most had urinated on themselves or each other. Add that smell to the natural sweet smell of 200 sheep, coupled with a cold crisp windless night and you had a situation that was nearly unbearable. It was great to be 6’1” at that time because the work inside the trailer was horrific.
My job along with the other 15 or so guys was to herd the sheep as they exited. Once the 3 men inside got a “victim” outside, the sheep would run the first direction it saw, which in most cases was back towards the highway. We had to grab and stop them, settle them down and give them a shove back towards the rest of the herd that was slowly growing about 75 yards from US Hwy 6.
After about 4 or 5 hours, we eventually extricated all of the living sheep but there were more than 80 that did not survive. Even though they were “just sheep” it remains a tragedy that could have been avoided by a more cautious driver.
Oh…my turnouts were not allowed in the house for weeks. They continued to smell like sheep urine and the only way to resolve this was to continuously scrub them and let them sit in the sun day after day after day, until the smell was gone.
It began about 2:00 in the morning. I don’t recall what year, but it was a wintery night. My pager went off like this, “Attention Bishop Volunteers, Attention Bishop Volunteers, We need a standby crew to report to Station 1 for assignment”. My assumption was that we were receiving snow and needed to chain up trucks “just in case”.
I got dressed into my turnouts and drove to the firehouse with a bit less urgency than normal. My thoughts raced as questions entered my mind. If we needed to chain trucks, wouldn’t we do so at all 3 stations? And, how come I don’t see any snow at all?
I arrived at station 1 within minutes of the call. I stood and waited with the others until Chief Phil Moxley explained our assignment. North of town there was a wide sweeping turn near the “town” of Laws. It was a turn that could be taken at 50 mph, but not on an icy night. This particular night a tractor and trailer rig hauling a load of sheep was heading south and had not successfully negotiated this turn. It was on its side with the sheep trapped in the trailer. We needed to get the sheep out before a Class 1 wrecker could even attempt to right it.
We arrived on scene to find the scene exactly as described. There were about 200 sheep in this trailer that lay on its side. We had access to the side door but because the way the trailer was, that door was about 8 feet in the air. There was no way we could lift that many sheep to safety.
We made the decision to cut a section out of the back of the trailer, using a metal cutting saw blade and the Jaws of Life. It was harder work than imagined and we only opened a hole large enough to send small men in and sheep out. There was no way these sheep would exit on their own. Many sheep had not survived the accident and others were trapped beneath them. Those that were free were so scared from the accident and then from the equipment we used that they weren’t going anywhere near the hole we had just created.
We sent 3 men in; John Williamson, Dick Weller and Donny Kunze. All 3 were about 5’6” or so and weighed about 150 lbs. The sheep were scared beyond imagination. Most had urinated on themselves or each other. Add that smell to the natural sweet smell of 200 sheep, coupled with a cold crisp windless night and you had a situation that was nearly unbearable. It was great to be 6’1” at that time because the work inside the trailer was horrific.
My job along with the other 15 or so guys was to herd the sheep as they exited. Once the 3 men inside got a “victim” outside, the sheep would run the first direction it saw, which in most cases was back towards the highway. We had to grab and stop them, settle them down and give them a shove back towards the rest of the herd that was slowly growing about 75 yards from US Hwy 6.
After about 4 or 5 hours, we eventually extricated all of the living sheep but there were more than 80 that did not survive. Even though they were “just sheep” it remains a tragedy that could have been avoided by a more cautious driver.
Oh…my turnouts were not allowed in the house for weeks. They continued to smell like sheep urine and the only way to resolve this was to continuously scrub them and let them sit in the sun day after day after day, until the smell was gone.
Friday, June 5, 2009
Happy Birthday Melodie - 2009
Wow…it wasn’t easy converting my thoughts about Alessandra to words. This task however may prove to be impossible. Alas, challenging as it may be, I must try. There is no way that I can write a tribute to my wife in a page or two, but I will try my best to convey through images some of our experiences.
I first met Melodie in the fall of 1973. She was a 14 year old, giggly, outgoing freshman in high school. I, on the other hand, was a sophisticated junior. We were introduced by Melodie’s sister Candy, whom we lost to an untimely death in April 2005. It was my opinion that she was about the cutest girl to ever step foot on that campus. I didn’t let on to that but simply kept that opinion stored away.
Melodie & her mother Charlotte - 1976
I first met Melodie in the fall of 1973. She was a 14 year old, giggly, outgoing freshman in high school. I, on the other hand, was a sophisticated junior. We were introduced by Melodie’s sister Candy, whom we lost to an untimely death in April 2005. It was my opinion that she was about the cutest girl to ever step foot on that campus. I didn’t let on to that but simply kept that opinion stored away.
Melodie & her mother Charlotte - 1976
My best friend, Gary Tharp, and I would go to the campus early enough to sit down in the main portion of “The Quad”. Like most of our days we had no real purpose, other than to entertain ourselves at anyone else’s expense.
Melodie and her seminary carpool would arrive on campus shortly there after and walk past us. Occasionally she would stop to say hi, or wave as she passed, always with that awesome smile that has brought me so much joy over the years. One day after she gave me an encouraging look, I turned to my friend and said, “I’m gonna marry that girl someday.”
Our friendship continued for the next few years, most of that time spent somewhere between good acquaintances and friends. Let me just say that even though we had a few common interests, we ran in different circles.
After my High School graduation, I left town and went to Bakersfield to work and attend college. I returned to Ridgecrest (R/C) in the early fall of 1976 and spent much of my leisure time with my very good friend Dave Colpitts.
Melodie in front of my pickup - 1977
One evening Dave and I were walking through K-Mart when this same giggly, outgoing, now 17 year old senior literally jumped out from behind a clothing rack to stop me. She had seen me approaching and wanted to be sure to say “hi”. Well in the midst of our conversation she asked how long I had been back in R/C. When I replied, “since September”, she quickly retorted with these exact words. “You’ve been back for 4 months and you haven’t called me yet?” I stumbled out a befuddled reply, “er, I guess I’ll have to”. She confidently said, “Yes, it’s in the phonebook, on Coral”. She then turned on her toes and walked away.
Even with that obvious provocation, it took me 3 weeks to muster the courage to call her. Well I did and we had our first date on January 25, 1977 when we went to see the movie “Noah’s Ark” which was showing at the Ridge Theater.
We were inseparable for many weeks until I moved north to Bishop California where I had started a job as a firefighter with the California Dept. of Forestry. Unfortunately time and distance caused us to break it off after months of a “long distance” relationship. A work injury and 2 subsequent surgeries brought me back to R/C for recuperation later that year.
Melodie at my parents house - 1977 (no wonder I was twitterpated, sheeze)
I got in touch with her and she came by for a visit with her friend Kathy Kruse. It must have been extremely awkward for Kathy, because I felt there was this instant spark and rekindle between us and it seem like Kathy wasn’t even there as we visited.
Well, we’ve been together ever since. We were engaged in 1978 and married in 1979. Our union has brought me immense joy and satisfaction. Melodie has always been a blast to be with, always with a positive attitude. Never has there been a worry about what her mood would be like. She is fun, laughable, loveable, and beautiful beyond looks, caring, giving, and selfless.
Melodie in San Diego - 1978
We celebrated 30 years (28 beautiful years, not bad out of 30) just last April. I wonder how and why she invested so much in me. I’ll never understand her commitment to me but will always appreciate it. She is my rock, my buddy and pal, my partner in crime, my cycling mate, and the one who keeps me motivated. She has provided me with 3 daughters that bring such joy and blessings into my life.
Melodie & first fish - 1979 Bishop California
So, Melodie , Happy Birthday**. I love you….looking forward to many more of these great years with you.
(** Editorial note: This was posted one day late ‘cause yesterday was just crazy busy.)
Melodie and her seminary carpool would arrive on campus shortly there after and walk past us. Occasionally she would stop to say hi, or wave as she passed, always with that awesome smile that has brought me so much joy over the years. One day after she gave me an encouraging look, I turned to my friend and said, “I’m gonna marry that girl someday.”
Our friendship continued for the next few years, most of that time spent somewhere between good acquaintances and friends. Let me just say that even though we had a few common interests, we ran in different circles.
After my High School graduation, I left town and went to Bakersfield to work and attend college. I returned to Ridgecrest (R/C) in the early fall of 1976 and spent much of my leisure time with my very good friend Dave Colpitts.
Melodie in front of my pickup - 1977
One evening Dave and I were walking through K-Mart when this same giggly, outgoing, now 17 year old senior literally jumped out from behind a clothing rack to stop me. She had seen me approaching and wanted to be sure to say “hi”. Well in the midst of our conversation she asked how long I had been back in R/C. When I replied, “since September”, she quickly retorted with these exact words. “You’ve been back for 4 months and you haven’t called me yet?” I stumbled out a befuddled reply, “er, I guess I’ll have to”. She confidently said, “Yes, it’s in the phonebook, on Coral”. She then turned on her toes and walked away.
Even with that obvious provocation, it took me 3 weeks to muster the courage to call her. Well I did and we had our first date on January 25, 1977 when we went to see the movie “Noah’s Ark” which was showing at the Ridge Theater.
We were inseparable for many weeks until I moved north to Bishop California where I had started a job as a firefighter with the California Dept. of Forestry. Unfortunately time and distance caused us to break it off after months of a “long distance” relationship. A work injury and 2 subsequent surgeries brought me back to R/C for recuperation later that year.
Melodie at my parents house - 1977 (no wonder I was twitterpated, sheeze)
I got in touch with her and she came by for a visit with her friend Kathy Kruse. It must have been extremely awkward for Kathy, because I felt there was this instant spark and rekindle between us and it seem like Kathy wasn’t even there as we visited.
Well, we’ve been together ever since. We were engaged in 1978 and married in 1979. Our union has brought me immense joy and satisfaction. Melodie has always been a blast to be with, always with a positive attitude. Never has there been a worry about what her mood would be like. She is fun, laughable, loveable, and beautiful beyond looks, caring, giving, and selfless.
Melodie in San Diego - 1978
We celebrated 30 years (28 beautiful years, not bad out of 30) just last April. I wonder how and why she invested so much in me. I’ll never understand her commitment to me but will always appreciate it. She is my rock, my buddy and pal, my partner in crime, my cycling mate, and the one who keeps me motivated. She has provided me with 3 daughters that bring such joy and blessings into my life.
Melodie & first fish - 1979 Bishop California
So, Melodie , Happy Birthday**. I love you….looking forward to many more of these great years with you.
(** Editorial note: This was posted one day late ‘cause yesterday was just crazy busy.)
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