By Rebecca Volent
My father retired from the fire service a handful of years back.
We talk often about my observations of the old timers and the young bucks and he laughs and says something about how all those old timers used to be young bucks. We talk about modern firefighting, my role as a paramedic supervisor and share stories about these calls from time to time.
Recently, a photo was being shared in a fire truck buff group that was identified as an old truck my dad rode on early in his career. As he looked through the photos of the old beat up truck, slowly sinking into the ground in a wreck yard in the desert, something caught his eye.
A shifter handle was positioned near the base of the driver’s seat, just to the right, and was always hard to reach. In 1980, dad fashioned an old axe handle into a long shift lever. It was still there. Over 35 years later, something he made was still in place and, by the looks of the photos, is about to succumb to the elements. I am considering an epic road trip to find the truck and retrieve the handle. I’ll keep you up to speed on that adventure.
Here is the picture of baby me in the jump seat (rear-facing firefighter) of Truck 4 in 1976. Aside from some grey hair, I look pretty much the same today.
The same year this picture was taken, somewhere in the Midwest, another fire apparatus was being placed into service for the first time: A 1976 International 1000 gallon water tender.
They say you always remember your first.
No matter how many came after, regardless of shape, size or ability, that first one will always have a special place in your heart.
That 1976 International was my first rig. We shared some great experiences together and at times was my only friend out in the middle of nowhere New Mexico (I was assigned to the Pueblo of Isleta Indian Reservation) on an abandoned car fire or running as fast as we could (mid 40s) to a freeway crash.
I learned from her that if you take care of your equipment, there is still no assurance it will work when you arrive on scene.
Aside from the water, she carried eight pieces of assorted cribbing, 50 feet of supply line, two preconnects and a shovel. That was it.
Every time we went to the gas station on the other side of town she would backfire ... loud enough to make folks duck. She had no primer motor and the light bar gave out from time to time, but it was experiences like that that taught me to expect the unexpected and adapt to ever changing situations.
The year before I left that department for another, I installed some flashing red lights on the front bumper, just above the grill. They were no axe handle shifter, but I wonder how I would feel if, in 20 years, someone shared a picture of a beat up old tender half buried in sand and it still had those lights on the bumper.
To have something you did, even something so simple as a light or a shifter not only survive your time, and the time the rig was actually in service, but to pass the test of time?
That‘s just too cool.
I hope to take dad on that road trip to see his first with his own eyes; maybe step on the running boards of the trailer, climb in the cab and for one last time travel back to 1980 when he put that shifter in. And who knows … maybe I’ll jump in behind him like I did back in 1976 for another picture.
What we do now makes a mark on the future. Be it a bumper light, a shifter handle, a policy, or even mentoring a new member. Be the change you want to see in the world. When it comes back to visit you, I can tell from dad’s voice on the phone, it will make your month.
