Beginning Earl

A couple 40-something guys...

Earl

Yesterday, I began a partnership with a 38-year-old truck.  My daughter says he is an Earl.  It’s nearly as old as me.  My friend Brant discovered him after someone else found him languishing namelessly in a field, starved of fuel and rusting in the rain.  After working hard to be a benefit for his owner, who recently passed away, Earl found himself on the sidelines with muddy, flat feet and no where to go… Poor Earl.

While tending easily toward over thinking and complication, I’ve always, as part of my foundational thinking, believed in the virtue of simple, strong, well crafted anything.  I am a builder of decks, porches and outdoor furniture for this reason.  They are rough and made to withstand traffic and the elements.  I love the simplicity of running in the country – nothing but shoes, shorts and a long road.  I can do it if I can endure.  A fifth generation 67-72 Ford f100 is in this category.  It is a simple machine, well built with intention and made to last.

During this season of my life, while I am considering and recovering from my past and moving slowly into the future, I need to stay grounded in the simple, the strong and the enduring.  I need to keep my hands busy with things that can be measured at the end of the day.  So much of my heart and mind are taken up with the philosophical, ethereal considerations of the discoverable but unknowable.  That’s ok.  I am bound to the eternal and I need to become more a man of eternity.  But I am also a man of the earth, demonstrating the power and life and love of God in each moment and in each circumstance.  It can’t all be talk. 

Mark, Loren and I used to teach young men how to build.  We told our guys, “if you work with your hands, your craftsmanship tells people what kind of man you are.  Leave accurate evidence.”  We built buildings that could be seen from the inside and outside.  Often no insulation or drywall covered our work.  We nailed and bolted in clean patterns, cut straight, plumbed lines, culled knots, sap and waning and pre-drilled for perfectly straight screw lines.

Earl is that kind of truck.  You can inspect him inside and out.  Not much is hidden.  He is readily accountable and will answer the hard questions with honesty and immediacy.  He is a good example for me.  He shows the quality of craftsmanship that went into innovation, durability and simple beauty.  Somewhere, there are men who can be judged by this truck.  If the rest of their lives follow the example, they are good men, worthy of honor and appreciation. 

Earl is a bit rusty now.  His window seals whistle in the wind and there are tiny little plants growing through the rust holes in the front of his bed.  Small tears show stuffing in the seat and cracks are in the dash.  He has the wrong mirrors and holes from the right ones.  His bumper is bent just a little, his hood springs are weak and his transmission is a little whiny.  There is some surgery needed for his leaky heart.  It will require donation and sacrifice from his peers.

I am making a commitment to this tired old truck.  I will care for him and restore him to a new version of his original condition.  When we are done, we will spend time on the roads remembering the good old days and congratulating ourselves on the healing.  We will exult in the sound of combustion and the grunt of solid shifting.  He will carry his weight and pull his load and I will breath fresh air at 50 mph.

My heart will make this journey as well.  I hope that I will be as honest and accountable as Earl.  As I am restored and unfettered from the damage in my past, I will be a testament to the one who crafted, innovated and made me durable.  I’ll do what I am meant to and be an example of a simple, well-designed man.  Along the way, every twist of the wrench, every scrape of file and the removal of every broken piece will count.