Mackey came to B.O.N.E.S. from a bad situation in central Massachusetts. He was underweight and limped painfully. X-rays revealed a displaced femur fracture in his right hind leg – it was amazing that Mackey could use the leg at all. The options didn't look hopeful, but with help from the B.O.N.E.S. Medical Director, a carefully-structured exercise program, and a lot of TLC, he can now lead a normal life.
As Mackey recovered from his injuries, long-time B.O.N.E.S. adopter John was mourning the loss of his long-time beagle companion, Hudson, whose "Chronicles" were documented here for many years. John was settling into a new job with lots of driving, and Mackey loved to ride... a great match. John and Mackey will both share their viewpoints with us on this page.
Good morning from Tugalo Dam in northeast Georgia.
The job here is winding down, so the next few weeks we are going to be busy hauling all the equipment back to Baltimore.
Last Monday we had a little excitement on the beltway in Baltimore — the drive shaft broke!
I had just entered the beltway and was busy grabbing gears, when all of a sudden there was a loud bang, a terrible crashing, and a lot of thumping somewhere under the truck.
I didn't see anything in the road that I might have run over, so I thought something major had broken. Luckily, I was not up to speed and was in the right lane, so I coasted over to the breakdown lane. I coasted because I had no power!
I got out and looked under the truck and saw the problem: the drive shaft had broken at the yoke where it enters the transmission. The broken end was sitting on the ground in a rapidly spreading pool of antifreeze. That was the terrible noise I heard — the drive shaft spinning wildly out of control. Luckily, it didn't do as much damage as it could have; it could have damaged air lines, cross members, fuel tanks, etc.
I called Penske. They sent a wrecker, towed the truck to their shop nearby, got me a loaner, and there we were. . .
While waiting for the wrecker, I called the Penske in Waterville, Maine, because they had replaced the clutch six weeks earlier. That included removing the transmission. Their service manager agreed that this seemed to be more than a coincidence, which I respect him for.
Hopefully, we'll be getting back into our own truck before too long.
Greetings,
We're in a gravel lot in the middle of nowhere with LOTS of great smells! I think this is one of my favorite places!
We were in a different truck this week because there was a big BANG and then a lot of crashing sounds. Another tow truck came (like the one that came in September) and towed the truck away.
They gave us a bright yellow truck, but we had to wait. They apologized, but they said it was dirty, and they wanted to clean it first.
When we got the truck, it seemed clean, and John remarked how nice it smelled. Sometimes I just want to bite him, he is so clueless. That truck smelled like a cross between a park bench and a dumpster!
Even so, I did enjoy sniffing around learning its intimate history. I will spare you the details in case there are any reading this with weak stomachs. Well, I may be exaggerating a bit, but John does, so why can't I?
Oh — I almost forgot: I enjoy the friends that John has and how funny they are. They gave him a bunch of new nicknames, such as "truck killer," "driveshaft," "clutch popper". They're pretty cruel, but they each have similar nickname that they've earned and wear with honor!
Anyway, that's about all for this chapter.
