"Working With Thor"

Dave’s first night in the Sierra Nevada mountains, he was greeted by rain - and a harrowing situation.

“I made it out of LA.”

That was my thought as I passed Bakersfield and it sounded so sweet, I said it aloud.

Adventures are adventures because you have no idea what will happen. You plan, you imagine, you visualize, but all that means squat to adventure. Adventure doesn’t follow rules or have morals or care what’s fair or mean, and that’s what makes it so damn exciting.

As an artist, failure is my best friend. Without it I’d be unsuccessful, lost. After living with failure for more than 60 years, you sense it’s coming - but you never know when. It is possible to anticipate, but failure always catches me like a baseball bat to the head. A catastrophe is a combination of unforeseen failures that fall like dominos. I’m not friends with catastrophic failure. I hate the guy, he’s a prick and makes me feel all icky inside. The only good to be taken from catastrophe is in making a great recovery.

The first truck I rented wasn’t big enough. A measly one hour delay. I know, it doesn’t sound like a falling domino. Patience.

Daylight and my cell phone signal started fading around Fresno and by the time I turned off the interstate onto a two-lane highway into the Sierra Nevadas it was dark, the navigation on my iPhone quit, and I started to realize just how alone I really was. On cue, the asshole voice in my head started with the I-told-you-so’s and the you-should-have’s. It was hard to stay positive and the feeling morphed a little into… survival.

The weather changed, just some rain sprinkles, but it continued to build as I reached the end of the road where my winding driveway started up a long hill to my new life. I could feel badness, waiting for me in the dark like a predator. I sat idling in the huge diesel truck with my animals next to me. The extreme darkness of the country made it seem like I was looking at the worldthrough a pinhole camera. I had doubts about being able to get the huge truck close enough to the house. I just couldn’t see, and then it started raining harder.

I wasn’t seeing any dominos fall though, and I didn’t want to be scared into inaction. The truck was strong, it was heavy, I’d have plenty of traction, it wasn’t as steep as it looked… but the trees hanging over the drive were a problem. And I’d have to move with a good pace up the hill because it was getting muddier. I talked myself into it.

I gunned the truck, dropped it in low gear, and gathered speed so I could hit it hard and barrel though it. It’s all about confidence and doing stuff - like, with confidence. Unfortunately, I missed “smart” by a mile and picked “stupid.” I should have turned the truck around, gone into town and slept in a hotel and had a big expensive breakfast in the morning.

Avoiding the trees, I caught the front tire in the soft muddy ditch, only barely getting out beforeover-correcting and sliding off the driveway onto the steep hill, finally catching the bumper of the truck on a utility pole. My heart bumped like a hummingbird’s and waves of adrenaline made my bones ache. In a state of shock, I climbed out of the truck into the pitch-black night and was greeted by my neighbor’s dogs. I followed them home and asked my new...