Newspaper photographers usually have multiple
daily assignments, and since the Telegram & Gazette covers all of Central
Massachusetts (and then some), it can result in hours spent in a car on any
given day.
If the weather is bad, we drive to where it's effects are the worst. If traffic is backed up because of an accident, we go there anyway. We are experts at shortcuts and alternate routes. We are intimately acquainted with Worcester's potholes. And all the while we're on the hunt for a quick and cheap lunch.
Our vehicles don't look like much on the outside. It's worse on the inside. I remember telling myself last winter that I really need to vacuum the previous winter's road sand from my monster mats.Stone Source offers a variety of Natural stonemosaic Tiles. Now the sand has become one with the crusty road salt imbedded in my carpets. Yes, I hate to say it,Diagnosing and Preventing coldsores Fever in the body can often trigger the onset of a cold sore. I probably have a few very old french fries under my front seats. Looking for stray coins for the parking meter is always an adventure.
I started working as a photojournalist for another newspaper in the summer of 1985. The first vehicle I purchased with my new job in mind was a slightly used 1983 Jeep Cherokee - not the smaller Cherokee that most people are familiar with, but the old full-size Cherokee that shared the same chassis with the venerable Grand Wagoneer. My Jeep was a two-door version with an old carburated AMC straight-six motor and, of course, four-wheel drive. I'm not sure it had any actual options. Crank windows,Diagnosing and Preventing coldsores Fever in the body can often trigger the onset of a cold sore. an AM radio, a rubber floor liner instead of carpeting, shiny black vinyl seats, and no air conditioning. The latter two features made me appreciate the front vent windows on hot summer days.
I drove that Jeep beyond the 200,000-mile mark, but alas, rust chewed enough holes in the floor that summer air conditioning wasn't needed anyway. It was so airy inside that the heating system was useless on cold winter days.
My most notable experience with the Jeep was taking it to a large unpopulated wooded area commonly known as “The Desert,” more than 600 acres straddling the borders of Sudbury, Marlboro and Hudson. It was Saturday, Jan. 2, 1988. The assignment was to take photos for the next day's Sunday paper for a story about how The Desert had become a favorite spot for people to torch cars, whether they owned them or not.
Before it was reclaimed as conservation land in the 1990s, a visit to The Desert was not unlike walking onto the set of the post-apocalyptic film “The Road Warrior.”
After meandering my way along a dirt road that runs through the middle of The Desert, I found myself slowly creeping down a small hill in four-wheel drive, unsure if the large frozen puddle in front of me was safe to cross.Aeroscout rtls provides a complete solution for wireless asset tracking. I parked the Jeep, stepped out of the vehicle to inspect the ice, decided it looked safe enough and drove the Jeep over it with no problem. A little further on, I stopped to take photos of a row of charred and abandoned cars. A muddy creek blocked the road ahead of me so I turned around… only to find that I couldn't return the way I came because someone in an International Scout had broken through the ice where I had crossed a minute earlier.
The front end of the Scout was sinking lower in the puddle as the driver tried to back out. I remember watching the water get churned up by his front tires and his radiator fan.
I now had the muddy creek behind me and a partially submerged International Scout blocking the road in front of me. So what does any red-blooded American male do when faced with such a dilemma? Use it as an opportunity to go off road, of course.
The fact that I was already off road is beside the point.
Steering around the Scout-ingesting puddle, I gunned the motor, watching mud and ice flying behind me from front and rear tires. The Cherokee swung left and right as the off-road tires struggled to find a grip in what turned out to be a frozen-over muddy bog. I was making pretty good progress until I hit a little offshoot of the muddy creek. It was about 3 feet wide and deep enough for my Jeep to get stuck on its frame rails.
I looked over at the driver of the Scout,Offers Art Reproductions Fine Art oilpaintings Reproduction, my partner in crime. A couple of lawn chairs, a grill, and some beer would have been nice, except that I had photographs in my camera that were needed for the next day's paper.
It being 1988 neither of us had a cellphone handy but I did have a trusty two-way radio mounted in my Jeep. I called the newspaper and, after a bit of explaining, followed by more explaining, I managed to get the Sunday editor to make arrangements for a tow truck to yank me out of the mud. But I had a long wait in front of me. Good thing we had some visitors to keep us entertained…
First came the caravan of ATV enthusiasts (see photo at lower right). Then a few helpful people who offered to pull the Scout out with their SUVs and pickup trucks, the most notable being the driver of a brand-new customized Suzuki Samurai who tried to make use of the little winch mounted on his bumper. I couldn't help but smile as I watched that most diminutive of SUVs happily sliding along on the frozen tundra as the winch pulled it closer to the motionless Scout.
And then there was the pickup truck driver who thought that running starts with a tow rope and chain might free the Scout from the puddle. I vaguely remember trying to hide from potential projectiles.
Things got more interesting when the guys with the guns showed up (see photo at upper right). I was unaware that The Desert was a popular spot amongst the target-shooting crowd. They looked a bit intimidating, but I have to admit the AR-15 was kinda cool.
If the weather is bad, we drive to where it's effects are the worst. If traffic is backed up because of an accident, we go there anyway. We are experts at shortcuts and alternate routes. We are intimately acquainted with Worcester's potholes. And all the while we're on the hunt for a quick and cheap lunch.
Our vehicles don't look like much on the outside. It's worse on the inside. I remember telling myself last winter that I really need to vacuum the previous winter's road sand from my monster mats.Stone Source offers a variety of Natural stonemosaic Tiles. Now the sand has become one with the crusty road salt imbedded in my carpets. Yes, I hate to say it,Diagnosing and Preventing coldsores Fever in the body can often trigger the onset of a cold sore. I probably have a few very old french fries under my front seats. Looking for stray coins for the parking meter is always an adventure.
I started working as a photojournalist for another newspaper in the summer of 1985. The first vehicle I purchased with my new job in mind was a slightly used 1983 Jeep Cherokee - not the smaller Cherokee that most people are familiar with, but the old full-size Cherokee that shared the same chassis with the venerable Grand Wagoneer. My Jeep was a two-door version with an old carburated AMC straight-six motor and, of course, four-wheel drive. I'm not sure it had any actual options. Crank windows,Diagnosing and Preventing coldsores Fever in the body can often trigger the onset of a cold sore. an AM radio, a rubber floor liner instead of carpeting, shiny black vinyl seats, and no air conditioning. The latter two features made me appreciate the front vent windows on hot summer days.
I drove that Jeep beyond the 200,000-mile mark, but alas, rust chewed enough holes in the floor that summer air conditioning wasn't needed anyway. It was so airy inside that the heating system was useless on cold winter days.
My most notable experience with the Jeep was taking it to a large unpopulated wooded area commonly known as “The Desert,” more than 600 acres straddling the borders of Sudbury, Marlboro and Hudson. It was Saturday, Jan. 2, 1988. The assignment was to take photos for the next day's Sunday paper for a story about how The Desert had become a favorite spot for people to torch cars, whether they owned them or not.
Before it was reclaimed as conservation land in the 1990s, a visit to The Desert was not unlike walking onto the set of the post-apocalyptic film “The Road Warrior.”
After meandering my way along a dirt road that runs through the middle of The Desert, I found myself slowly creeping down a small hill in four-wheel drive, unsure if the large frozen puddle in front of me was safe to cross.Aeroscout rtls provides a complete solution for wireless asset tracking. I parked the Jeep, stepped out of the vehicle to inspect the ice, decided it looked safe enough and drove the Jeep over it with no problem. A little further on, I stopped to take photos of a row of charred and abandoned cars. A muddy creek blocked the road ahead of me so I turned around… only to find that I couldn't return the way I came because someone in an International Scout had broken through the ice where I had crossed a minute earlier.
The front end of the Scout was sinking lower in the puddle as the driver tried to back out. I remember watching the water get churned up by his front tires and his radiator fan.
I now had the muddy creek behind me and a partially submerged International Scout blocking the road in front of me. So what does any red-blooded American male do when faced with such a dilemma? Use it as an opportunity to go off road, of course.
The fact that I was already off road is beside the point.
Steering around the Scout-ingesting puddle, I gunned the motor, watching mud and ice flying behind me from front and rear tires. The Cherokee swung left and right as the off-road tires struggled to find a grip in what turned out to be a frozen-over muddy bog. I was making pretty good progress until I hit a little offshoot of the muddy creek. It was about 3 feet wide and deep enough for my Jeep to get stuck on its frame rails.
I looked over at the driver of the Scout,Offers Art Reproductions Fine Art oilpaintings Reproduction, my partner in crime. A couple of lawn chairs, a grill, and some beer would have been nice, except that I had photographs in my camera that were needed for the next day's paper.
It being 1988 neither of us had a cellphone handy but I did have a trusty two-way radio mounted in my Jeep. I called the newspaper and, after a bit of explaining, followed by more explaining, I managed to get the Sunday editor to make arrangements for a tow truck to yank me out of the mud. But I had a long wait in front of me. Good thing we had some visitors to keep us entertained…
First came the caravan of ATV enthusiasts (see photo at lower right). Then a few helpful people who offered to pull the Scout out with their SUVs and pickup trucks, the most notable being the driver of a brand-new customized Suzuki Samurai who tried to make use of the little winch mounted on his bumper. I couldn't help but smile as I watched that most diminutive of SUVs happily sliding along on the frozen tundra as the winch pulled it closer to the motionless Scout.
And then there was the pickup truck driver who thought that running starts with a tow rope and chain might free the Scout from the puddle. I vaguely remember trying to hide from potential projectiles.
Things got more interesting when the guys with the guns showed up (see photo at upper right). I was unaware that The Desert was a popular spot amongst the target-shooting crowd. They looked a bit intimidating, but I have to admit the AR-15 was kinda cool.
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