30 Years in a Housetruck

Page Seventeen: Recovery

So... I spent the next week going around looking like Frankenstein's Monster. I was able to pull a hat over the shaved area of my head, but my facial injuries were right out there for all to see. I got asked a number of times if I had a bicycle accident, apparently, the scrape marks on my chin made it appear that I had gone over the handlebars.

In about a week, Sarge removed the sutures, saving me another visit to the doctor's. From that point on, I let my moustache grow, partly to cover the scars, but also because shaving over the proud flesh with a razor was not a pleasant, or bloodless experience. In fact, I think I shaved my upper lip only once since then, which will be explained in a future posting.

The need for Woodley and me to have our own kitchen was still a pressing issue, so when we had the opportunity, we worked on the counter/cabinet, and I began installing one of the operable windows that I had salvaged out of the old Flamingo trailer factory. Some 2x2 framing was secured between the steel framing of the truck box, and a hole the correct size for the window was cut using a reciprocating saw. Some "putty tape" and drillets, and the window was in! Tres Bien! New light into the back of the truck and new energy for getting the rest of the project underway.

Of course, we were still regarded as servants, although unlucky and accident-prone servants by this time.

At some point, Kitty decided that Woodley and I needed jobs to bring in some money, and I got hauled off to the electronics repair department of Montgomery Wards in town to see if my TV repair experience would land me a paying job. In Oregon, it seems, repair of consumer electronics requires a CET (Certified Electronic Technician) license, which I didn't have. I was actually relieved, and when Kitty pressed me to check into getting the license, I told her that if I needed to study for and take a test to obtain a license, that I'd rather do that to get my First Class Radiotelephone license, which would allow me to work in my field of interest, radio broadcasting. (some years later, I did take classes to that end).

All in all, we were coping, but I think we were both aware that we were living out of touch with what we'd really rather be doing. This would soon change, the next event would be something that would affect me, at least, for the next 28 years or so…