Brad Nelson

I drive an older Lincoln Town Car. It’s old enough to have its own driver’s license. Being fond of the car, I’m on a Facebook page with others more or less obsessed with the vintage auto. (They stopped making them 10 years ago.)

Google says “perdiddle” or “padiddle” are Canadian and North American terms that refer to a vehicle with one headlight or one taillight burned out.

I learned, after a couple of mishaps, that it was wise to carry a walking cane with me in the hay truck – a good oak stock cane because it wouldn’t shatter when I had occasion to swat something with it.

For most of the years I spent seeing the Northwest through the windshield of a hay truck, that hay was loaded one bale at a time via a hay elevator. And usually unloaded the same way.

Late last summer, we had a pair of stray dogs show up. Big dogs. With paws almost as big as my hand. One had husky or malamute markings in mostly white and a head size and shape showing some Great Pyrenees characteristics; the other was a beautiful tan and brown-and-white fellow of the same size whose markings were similar to a German shepherd, with the head also showing some Great Pyrenees.

“An acquaintance saw what I had done with this old bread truck and was so impressed that he went out and bought one like it to make into his own camper.