Follow the trail crew social feed on your favorite social media, linked to the right.
If you’d prefer to just lurk, you’re welcome to see what’s happening on the most active Adventure Adjacent social media right here on the site at this link: Trail Crew Social Feed.
Follow the trail crew social feed on your favorite social media, linked to the right.
If you’d prefer to just lurk, you’re welcome to see what’s happening on the most active Adventure Adjacent social media right here on the site at this link: Trail Crew Social Feed.
Follow the trail crew social feed on your favorite social media, linked to the right.
If you’d prefer to just lurk, you’re welcome to see what’s happening on the most active Adventure Adjacent social media right here on the site at this link: Trail Crew Social Feed.
Follow the trail crew social feed on your favorite social media, linked to the right.
If you’d prefer to just lurk, you’re welcome to see what’s happening on the most active Adventure Adjacent social media right here on the site at this link: Trail Crew Social Feed.
The National Park Service isn’t glamorous, but some of the most American places we have run on very unglamorous things:
Payroll
Vault toilets
Trail crews
Historians
Biologists
Seasonal workers
Maintenance shops
The person who answers a confused visitor’s question with a map in one hand and a pocket full of patience.
That matters, because when people say the Trump administration is trying to defund the National Park Service, they’re not usually talking about a mustache twirling supervillain. They’re talking about a long, bureaucratic squeeze:
Hiring freezes
Attrition
Proposed budget cuts
Directives to shrink the federal workforce
It’s all snore-inducing, CSPAN drone until the visitor center door is locked, the trail bridge stays busted, and the interpretive program quietly disappears from the schedule.
What Would You Say You Do Here, National Park Service?
A lot of people hear “national parks” and picture Yellowstone, Yosemite, and maybe a bison blocking traffic.
The real thing is much larger and much more interesting. The National Park Service manages 433 units covering more than 85 million acres across all 50 states and several territories. That includes national parks, monuments, battlefields, historic sites, seashores, recreation areas, rivers, trails, and more. Its governing mission, written into the 1916 Organic Act, is to conserve scenery, wildlife, and natural and historic objects while providing for public enjoyment in a way that leaves them unimpaired for future generations.
That last sentence is heavy like a Chevy.
The Job is Bigger Than a Postcard
In the budget documents themselves, Park Service operations are broken into:
Resource stewardship
Visitor services
Park protection
Facility operations and maintenance
Park support
In plain English, that means scientists, archivists, law enforcement rangers, fee staff, trail crews, custodians, mechanics, planners, historians, and the people trying to keep a century-old stone staircase, a Civil War battlefield, and a backcountry wastewater system all functioning in the same week.
The agency also works with communities around the country through programs tied to historic preservation, the National Register of Historic Places, National Historic Landmarks, trails, rivers, and close-to-home recreation. So, when the budget knife comes out, it’s not aimed at only the biggest parks out west.
Those visitors spent an estimated $29.0 billion in gateway regions, supporting 340,100 jobs and $56.3 billion in national economic output. That’s hotel housekeeping in Moab. That’s a diner near Shenandoah. The gas station outside Acadia. The mechanic, the guide, the grocery store, the coffee shop, and a whole pile of towns that are not interested in becoming collateral damage in somebody’s ideological war on public institutions, crony capitalism, and personal enrichment.
Follow the Money: Why the National Park Service is Getting Cut
The Trump administration’s FY 2026 budget request proposed cutting the Park Service’s core Operation of the National Park System account from about $2.894 billion to $1.994 billion.
It also proposed dropping National Recreation and Preservation from about $89.6 million to $12.0 million, the Historic Preservation Fund from about $168.9 million to $11.0 million, and Construction from about $172.3 million to $99.5 million. Those aren’t trimming the fat, they’re feeding the NPS to the chipper-shredder.
The Newest Numbers are Harsher for the National Park Service
In the White House’s FY 2027 budget materials released in April 2026, the administration proposed cutting the Park Service’s operations account from an estimated $2.9 billion in 2026 to $2.143 billion in 2027.
The same documents show National Recreation and Preservation falling from $92 million to $6 million, and the Historic Preservation Fund falling from $181 million to $11 million.
The employment tables project direct civilian full-time equivalent staffing dropping from 11,488 in 2026 to 8,984 in 2027. Congress still has to act on those requests, but the administration’s direction of travel is not exactly subtle.
There’s one thing worth pointing out, because honesty matters more than a tidy villain speech: The administration’s 2026 budget also proposed reauthorizing the National Parks and Public Land Legacy Restoration Fund for another five years. That fund, created by the Great American Outdoors Act, is aimed at deferred maintenance.
So, the story is not that every single park-related line item moved in the same direction. It’s stranger than that. The administration proposed keeping a major maintenance tool alive while also proposing deep cuts to day-to-day operations, preservation programs, and staffing. A park can get a repaired road and still lose the people who interpret the trail, clean the campground restroom, catalog the archive, or keep the visitor center open six days a week instead of four. Infrastructure matters. So do caretakers.
Stripping the Copper from the Walls
Outside the Park Service fence line, the broader public-lands fight is already leaning on the same philosophy.
In March 2025, Interior and HUD announced a joint task force to identify federal land suitable for housing development and streamline land transfers.
In June 2025, the Senate Energy and Natural Resources Committee released a proposal for mandatory disposal of a slice of BLM and Forest Service land for housing, calling it central to “President Trump’s housing and public lands agenda.”
The National Park Service is not a luxury line in a federal spreadsheet. It’s one of the few institutions in American life that still tries to hold beauty, history, grief, science, leisure, and public access in the same pair of hands.
It manages battlefields where the country tore itself open. It manages shorelines, deserts, trails, ancient dwellings, memorials, and odd little places that would never survive a strict profit-and-loss test. The National Park Service keeps a piece of the national memory from being paved, privatized, or forgotten.
So yes, we need to talk about the National Park Service.
We need to talk about what it does, what it costs, and what gets lost when an administration decides public goods are soft targets.
In the next posts, I want to get more specific. The budget fight. The push to dispose of public land. The founding story. The famous parks everybody knows and the quieter sites they don’t. Because, if you’re going to defend something, you should know what it is before the auctioneer starts clearing his throat.
Some of the best things in a garage don’t belong there for very long. This is about those borrowed tools: a 10 mil, a neighbor’s torque wrench, a loaner code reader that has diagnosed three check-engine lights and one bruised ego. (It’s not the gas cap… or is it?)
That’s the good stuff.
We learn early that self-reliance means ownership. Buy your own, keep your own, want for nothing.
But the best things in life are the small acts of trust between people who know each other well enough to knock on the door without rehearsing the request.
Borrowed Tools: Trust is infrastructure.
Not the kind of glamorous infrastructure people take pictures of.
Just the invisible system that gets somebody’s brakes done on a Thursday night, so the kids get to school Friday morning without the family having to eat ketchup soup for a week.
A neighborhood with borrowed tools is a neighborhood with fewer emergencies.
The tool matters, sure.
The torque wrench keeps wheels on and the shiny side up.
The code reader tells you whether the truck is annoyed or actually wounded.
But the real machinery is the little agreement underneath it all: I trust you with this. You bring it back. Next time, maybe I’m the one knocking on your door asking you to pump the pedal while I crack the bleeder.
That is a far better system than twenty households each buying the same rarely used thing, letting it rust in a drawer, and pretending this is the peak form of civilized living.
You do not need a formal lending library to start. In fact, please don’t. The minute somebody says, “we should make a spreadsheet,” half the magic packs its bags and leaves town.
None of us needs to own every tool, and all of us need help sometimes.
Borrowed Tools: Start small.
Make a loop. One friend. One sibling. One decent neighbor. Trade the boring useful stuff first. The things people actually need on an ordinary bad day. Keep it to boring, useful stuff:
torque wrench
code reader
trim tools
compressor
jack
scanner
Put one rule on it all: return it clean and intact.
If something broke, say so.
If you lost the 10mm, congratulations, you’ve participated in the tradition.
A tiny loop works because it stays human-sized.
And that, really, is the point. Not the wrench, the socket, or even the money saved, though those help.
The point is learning, in a small, repeatable way, a life where capability gets shared around.
Sometimes the strongest thing a neighborhood can build is the habit of sharing what keeps the neighborhood moving.
I opened my inbox, saw the Trail Guide acceptance, and immediately did the same thing I do when I hear an unfamiliar rattle in the Cruiser. I got excited, then I got suspicious, then I started looking for the part where I’m about to learn something the hard way.
So, I dove in like I always do. I opened two browser tabs: one for onboarding, one for research.
New Trail Guide? Sign up for Circle.
Circle.so, for anyone who hasn’t encountered it yet, is basically a private clubhouse for people who are all trying to do the same thing without stepping on each other’s bumpers. I posted my little Trail Guide bio and an intro in the “Start Here” forum.
Folks chimed in from Colorado Springs, northern Georgia, all over. It felt like walking into a new shop where everyone already knows where the 10mm is kept.
Now the program rule is simple: I need to map and submit one trail within 30 days to stay in.
I love deadlines that are close enough to feel like a dare.
What is onX, exactly?
If you’ve been living under a rock, onX is one of the largest offroad mapping apps in the world.
It started in Missoula, Montana, and built its reputation on one core promise: help people know where they stand. Literally, in the land-ownership sense, and later in the “how do I not get lost out here” sense. They’ve grown into a suite of outdoors navigation apps, with different flavors for different kinds of dirt (hunting, off-road, backcountry, fishing).
They’re also not a scrappy little garage project anymore.
onX has raised significant funding and has taken outside investment over the years, including a Series B round led by Summit Partners in 2022 and a strategic investment announced with growth equity firm TCV in 2025.
None of that is automatically “good” or “bad.” It just means the stakes are different now. Growth changes incentives. Incentives change products. Products change behavior. Behavior changes trails.
That last part is why I’m taking the Trail Guide thing seriously.
So, what’s the Trail Guide program?
On the off-road side, onX has two big buckets of trail information:
Community reporting, where regular users can submit trail reports or flag issues.
“Guided Trails,” which onX says are scouted and documented by their Trail Guides with photos, descriptions, and difficulty ratings.
That second bucket is what I just got accepted into.
The stated goal is pretty wholesome: inspire people to get outside, equip them to off-road responsibly, and help protect trails for the future.
A Trail Guide is a human being who turns “I drove a road” into “here’s what you need to know before you do.”
The genuinely good stuff
I’ve used onX long enough to know why people like it.
MVUM access in one place.
onX Offroad highlights US Forest Service (USFS) Motor Vehicle Use Maps (MVUMs) as part of the product, which matters because MVUMs are where “it’s a road” becomes “it’s a road you’re allowed to be on.”
Offline maps that don’t turn into a blank panic screen.
The app emphasizes offline access to trail descriptions, land boundaries, and layers once you’ve saved your map areas. That’s a big deal when your signal disappears faster than your confidence.
Dispersed camping, with an official backbone.
onX Offroad advertises USFS-verified dispersed camping data integrated into a map layer for National Forest land. That’s the kind of thing that can keep people from “accidentally” camping where they shouldn’t.
If mapping tools can reduce the amount of wandering, guessing, and “we didn’t know,” they can reduce damage.
That’s the optimistic version of the story, and I still believe it.
The stuff worth squinting at
Here’s the part where I talk myself down from pure hype.
1) Maps don’t just describe places, they change them
This isn’t unique to onX. It’s the “digital guidebook” problem.
When an app makes a route easier to find, it also makes it easier to overuse. That’s been a big conversation in the hunting world with onX in particular: access is good, but crowding and pressure are real, and the data people generate becomes valuable in ways most users don’t think about when they drop a pin.
Off-road trails have the same vulnerability. Traffic concentrates impact. Impact triggers closures. Closures punish the people who were trying to do it right.
So, if I’m going to contribute to a system that helps people find places, my job is also to help people not wreck them.
That means being picky about what gets highlighted, how it’s described, and what warnings get attached.
2) Accuracy is a moving target
Maps get outdated. Gates move. Storms re-write roads. A trail that was fine last month can be a liability today.
And if you spend five minutes in any off-road forum, you’ll find people who love onX and people who don’t trust it at all.
Some of those complaints are about closures and trail details being wrong or inconsistent.
That user feedback is a signal: the real world changes faster than any dataset.
Trail Guides are one attempt to narrow that gap. A vetted write-up beats a mystery line on a map. That’s part of why I wanted in.
3) The data question is not paranoia, it’s realism
onX has been unusually direct about some of this. They publish a page about “Volunteered Geographic Information” (VGI) and explain that, with permission, they collect GPS coordinates frequently while the app is open in the foreground, and use that to improve knowledge like trail networks, gate locations, and open/close dates.
They also provide privacy documentation, including a “Do Not Sell My Personal Information” page that says they don’t disclose personal data for money, but may share limited data in ways that could count as “sale” or “sharing” under some state privacy laws, including for targeted advertising.
Again, not a scandal. Just reality.
If you use modern apps, you are in a relationship with a data pipeline. It’s smart to know what you’re agreeing to.
Trail Guide: Where I land on it
I’m not joining because I think onX is perfect. I’m joining because maps are already shaping where people go, and I’d rather be part of the force that makes usage better for everyone now AND in the future.
My personal rules for this, at least right now:
Is the trail status questionable? I’m treating “maybe” as “no” until it’s confirmed.
If there’s a gate, a sign, or a closure notice, that becomes first-class information, not a footnote.
Is the route legal but fragile? It’s getting marked accurately in my description.
If I’m unsure, I’ll ask the people who actually manage the land.
That’s how stewardship works.
The 30-day assignment
So, here’s what happens next: I need to map and submit one trail within the next 30 days to stay in the program.
I’m going to pick something representative of the Pennsylvania and Mid-Atlantic reality I actually drive:
Not a rock-crawling flex photo. Not a viral viewpoint.
A real route with real details that help people drive it legally and leave it in the same, or better, condition than they found it.
If you’ve got a favorite forest road in PA that you think deserves a careful, responsible write-up (or one that desperately needs updated info), hit me up.
I’ve added battery hold downs to my list of regular checks, because a few days after I flushed the power steering, I pulled into a gas station and did my little ritual:
Pop the hood. Fluids. Belts. Anything leaking? Smoking?
Anything that looks like it is about to become an unplanned story on this site?
That’s when I saw it.
Battery Hold Downs: Fantastic Failures, Shocking Surprises
My battery was tipped off its tray. I caught it kissing the radiator. Only the positive and negative cables were keeping it in the engine bay.
Not dramatic enough to strand me. Just… wrong.
I stared at it for a second, doing the mental math of how long it might have been like that. The power steering flush was January 11. This gas stop was January 20. Somewhere in that window, the battery hold downs got loose enough for gravity and my… spirited driving to start writing its own version of the maintenance log.
What broke?
The only obvious casualty was a thick ground wire that ran to the fender. Snapped right at the lug, copper strands splayed like a bad haircut.
Everything else looked intact. No sparks, smoke, or melted insulation. Most surprising of all: No warning lights, weird idle, or glitchy radio.
The Cruiser had been quietly tolerating my neglect.
Here’s the part that’s uncomfortable to admit: I try to be the guy who does maintenance. I carry tools. I write how-to posts because I’m trying to be more intentional in the future.
And I still missed a basic, boring, foundational thing: making sure the battery was actually secured.
A loose battery is not just a nuisance. As you can see, it can tug on cables, damage connections, and in the worst cases, battery movement can create a short circuit that can cause a fire. Especially if the positive terminal ends up contacting something it shouldn’t.
So, yeah, I got lucky.
How I fixed the Battery Hold Downs
I was really fortunate. None of the hardware got scattered. I just grabbed the battery, put it back on its tray, and tightened everything down.
Took some photos, made a plan to repair the ground properly, and then I did the thing I always do after a close call: I replayed it in my head. Not to spiral, but to find the lesson.
I’ve had to learn the hard way that “be perfect next time,” isn’t a lesson. That’s a fantasy.
The real lesson was mindfulness. Not the incense kind. The under-the-hood kind.
Mindfulness is being present to notice the boring stuff before it becomes expensive stuff.
It’s doing the 30-second check because you respect what the machine is doing for you. Toyota used the same designs on FJ as the 4Runner for almost twenty years.
“Old” doesn’t mean “bad.” Sometimes old means:
Forgiving
Reliable
Overbuilt
Old means it will keep running even when you accidentally sabotage it a little. But forgiveness isn’t permission for neglect.
There’s also a quieter, more human angle to this: the world trains us to rush. To skip checks. To treat maintenance as optional until something breaks, and then to blame ourselves for not having more time, more money, more energy.
Just more everything.
I’m trying to do the opposite. Not perfectly. Just consistently.
So if you want the practical takeaway, here it is: Add quiet, thoughtful moments to your routine. Even if it’s 30 seconds of skipped scrolling while you pump.
Mindfulness makes everything better. A quick wiggle on your battery hold downs while you wait for the DinoJuice™ is a smart habit. And it’s the kind of habit that prevents dumb problems from multiplying.
The 60-second battery hold downs check
Grab the battery and try to move it. If it shifts, your battery hold downs aren’t doing their job.
Look at the cables. If the battery moved, the cables took the stress.
Scan for rubbing and pinch points. Vibration plus time equals mystery failures.
Check the battery hold downs hardware. Rust, missing pieces, stripped threads, all of it matters.
Do not “temporary fix” this with bungees. Hold downs exist for a reason.
I didn’t catch this one in my garage. I caught it under fluorescent lights, standing at a pump, heart thudding and blood pressure spiking in public. Which is, honestly, a pretty classic way for lessons to play out.
Anyway, check your battery, stay grounded.
Help the wheels keep rolling, and show your love of affordable adventure with clothing designed by yours truly!
I’ve never done this before. But a power steering fluid flush is an easy maintenance item that can save big dollars down the road.
Honestly, I had no idea how old the power steering fluid was when I came home with the Cruiser. When I was checking fluids during one fuel up, someone leaned in and told me it smelled gross. One of the many drawbacks of not being able to smell.
I got a rare warm day in January a couple weeks ago. I decided to take care of a slightly past due oil change and tire rotation, and tackle this new task at the same time.
It was easy. Right up until I realized I did not have the one dumb thing that makes this job clean: a little spare tubing or a cap for the return port on the reservoir.
Cue the spill.
Into the catch pan.
I scrambled, stuck my finger over the hole, and cursed myself for not having the little things.
Then I discovered the most accidental tool in Toyota engineering: the dipstick attached to the reservoir cap is almost the perfect size to plug the return opening. It is not elegant, but neither is mopping ATF off your sway bar and skid plate.
Is Doing a Power Steering Fluid Flush Worth it?
Old, cooked ATF stops being a nice slippery hydraulic helper and starts acting like a tired, gritty pulp fiction detective, finding every potential weak spot in your power steering system and trying to exploit it.
If you never do a power steering fluid flush, this is what it could cost you:
What I learned (besides “buy spare hose and keep it in the bin”)
You can do a clean return-line flush with basic tools, but the difference between “clean” and “crime scene” is one cheap cap or a short length of scrap hose, plugged. Even an old screw in the end of the hose is better than nothing.
Having a new return line and fresh clamps on hand is smart. Mine survived and is holding tight, but I would rather replace aging rubber on my schedule than on the shoulder.
Turning the steering wheel engine-off moves fluid through the rack, but it does not spin the pump. I started the engine for short 2 to 3 second bursts to cycle the pump without running the reservoir too low.
Two quarts of fresh fluid was enough to get the old stuff out.
A Note on Safety and Sanity When Doing a Power Steering Fluid Flush
I’m sharing what I did on my own truck. Use your judgment, follow your service manual, and know your limits. Keep hands and tools away from belts and fans, support the vehicle safely if you lift it, and do not let the pump run dry.
If you see foaming, whining, or the fluid turning into a strawberry milkshake situation, stop and bleed the system properly before you call it “done.”
Just the Specs – Power Steering Fluid Flush
Item
Spec
Vehicle
2007 Toyota FJ Cruiser
Toyota spec for power steering fluid
Automatic transmission fluid (ATF) DEXRON II or III
What I used
Valvoline DEX/MERC ATF (DEXRON III / MERCON), about 2 quarts total for the flush, I had a third on-hand, just in case
What “normal” looks like after
No foam, no groan, smooth assist, level in the HOT or COLD range depending on temp
Step-by-Step: Power Steering Fluid Flush (the driveway version)
Tools and supplies
Catch bottle or drain jug (clear is best)
Rags, gloves, funnel
Pliers for hose clamps
A short length of hose to extend the return line into your jug (helpful, but not necessary)
Something to plug the reservoir return port (a proper cap, a spare hose with a bolt in it, or in my case, the reservoir cap dipstick hack)
Undo the top hose on the reservoir.
1) Get set up
Park level, set the parking brake, and chock a rear wheel.
If you can, lift the front end so the tires are off the ground. Turning lock-to-lock is easier and you’re not grinding the tread across your driveway.
2) Identify the return line
This is the bottom side of the return hose, you’re undoing the top side.
On the power steering reservoir, remove the return hose and aim it into your catch jug. If you need to extend it, slip on a length of clear hose and clamp it.
Plug the open return port on the reservoir so it does not spit fluid everywhere while you work.
3) Start flushing
Fill the reservoir with fresh ATF.
With the engine off, turn the steering wheel slowly from lock to lock a few times. Keep an eye on the reservoir level and keep topping it up.
Top it ALL the way up, particularly for the next step, because that pump works QUICKLY.
4) Cycle the pump carefully
Once I wanted to move fluid through the pump itself, I started the engine for short 2 to 3 second bursts, then shut it off and topped the reservoir again.
When I say 2-3 second bursts, I mean I started it and shut it down before the idle settled.
Repeat until the fluid coming out of the return line looks consistently clean.
5) Button it back up
Reattach the return hose to the reservoir with the clamp seated correctly.
Fill to the appropriate range on the dipstick/reservoir for fluid temperature.
The World’s Worst Egg Nog.
6) Bleed and verify
With the engine idling, turn the wheel to just shy of full lock and hold for 2 to 3 seconds, then go to the other side and hold for 2 to 3 seconds. Repeat several times.
Check for foaming or emulsification, and recheck level after a few minutes.
If you get foaming, don’t freak out.
As long as the pump isn’t whining, you’re okay.
Walk away for 10-15 minutes with the cap off, then repeat the process above.
7) Clean up like your dog is gonna be licking the pavement
Dispose of used ATF properly at a recycling center or auto parts store that accepts waste fluids.
Cavitation Caveat
What is pump cavitation? When the pump sucks air instead of fluid, it complains loudly and turns your “quick job” into foam and regret. Don’t let the pump run dry when you’re doing a power steering fluid flush.
How to avoid cavitation
Don’t run the reservoir dry.
DON’T RUN THE RESERVOIR DRY.
How to correct cavitation
Okay, so you ran it dry.
If you hear whining or see a ton of foam in the reservoir, stop the engine ASAP.
Top off the reservoir (engine off).
If it’s not already, jack it up, put it on stands.
Engine OFF: slowly turn the wheels lock to lock several times.
Do this slow and steady. It helps push the air up toward the reservoir.
Lower the vehicle. Put the return hose back on.
Start the engine and let it idle for a few minutes.
Engine IDLING: turn to full lock and hold 2-3 seconds, then go to the other full lock and hold 2-3 seconds.
Repeat this several times. Keep the holds short.
Shut it down and check the reservoir.
Look for foaming or emulsification. If it’s still foamy, repeat the bleed steps.
If you have to bleed it twice because it keeps foaming, stop and inspect for leaks.
Toyota specifically calls out checking for fluid leakage if you’re stuck doing multiple bleeds due to foaming. Loose clamps on the return line are the usual suspect after a flush.
If it still whines after all that
Stop and troubleshoot before you cook the pump.
Recheck fluid level.
Look for seepage at the return hose connection and clamps.
Make sure the hose isn’t cracked or collapsing.
If it keeps pulling air, it will keep making foam, and you’ll keep chasing your tail.
A power steering fluid flush isn’t rocket science. Follow these steps, be cautious, and you can save yourself hundreds or thousands of dollars in repairs.
Help the wheels keep rolling, and show your love of affordable adventure with clothing designed by yours truly!
Saturday night, the Cruiser and I took an unplanned break on the shoulder because my registration was expired. Not “I forgot by a week.” Expired-expired. It’s time to get this adventure back on track.
There’s a particular kind of shame that only exists under flashing lights. Sitting in a truck you maintain obsessively, while realizing you did not maintain the paperwork that allows the truck to legally be a truck. Capability is great right up until bureaucracy taps the glass.
Anyway. Hi.
If you’ve noticed a quiet stretch here, you’re not imagining it. I’ve been head-down, trying to get real work done on the video backlog and build a rhythm for the next few months of Adventure Adjacent.
Where I’ve been
The short version: I’ve been making progress, just not the kind that turns into a post, video, or anything public-facing.
I’ve been working, editing, planning, rebuilding my workflow, and doing the unglamorous stuff that makes all the other stuff possible. The upside is the pipeline is real now, not a stack of clips whispering accusations from a hard drive.
The downside is: it looks like I fell off the planet.
Also, I hit the point where streaming felt like dessert when I hadn’t eaten dinner yet. So game streams are paused until Monday, January 26. That’s the line in the sand. If you’re a stream regular, thank you for your patience. If you’re new here, welcome to the part where the sausage is made and occasionally dropped on the floor.
Next steps to Getting Back on Track
The part my brain needs in plain text
Here’s what’s happening next, in the order it needs to happen:
Fishing Creek Revisited: I’m writing the outline for the voiceover script this week, and I’m finally settling on a real title instead of “Fishing Creek Revisited FINAL FINAL v7.”
Alternator swap video: this is next on the editing bench. It’s straightforward, useful, and it deserves to exist as something other than “that folder I keep meaning to open.”
Power steering fluid flush write-up: I did the flush in a rush and didn’t film it, which means it’s getting turned into a proper Field Notes post. Not a how-to masterpiece, but a practical “here’s what I did, here’s what I’d do differently” for anyone else who’s staring at tired fluid and a busy calendar.
And yes, a little post about the registration. That is now on the list too. The reminder is written in all caps in the mental notebook. It’s next to where I keep my hate for bureaucracy and nowhere near the mail about renewal.
Accountability corner: the registration incident
I don’t love sharing that I got pulled over. But I also don’t love the version of adulthood where we pretend we’re all perfectly on top of everything.
I’m building this project around the idea that competence is a form of self-care. For the people riding with us, for the places we visit, for the rigs we depend on. Paperwork counts. Boring counts. The little stuff is the stuff.
So here’s the accountability part: I paid the state their money, while the cop was writing the ticket. I’ve set up recurring reminders so this doesn’t become a yearly tradition. The Cruiser, and my wallet, deserves better.
Side Quest: Mapcase
I’ve also been quietly working on something that looks like adventure software.
It’s early. Like “one working integration and a dream” early.
But the direction is clear: I want a tool that helps you make better calls out there. Weather, road conditions, trail conditions, alerts, the kind of context that keeps a fun drive from turning into a dumb story. When there’s something solid enough to show, I’ll bring you along for the ride.
For now, consider this a breadcrumb: there’s a small map-shaped project growing in the garage.
Back on Track: The weekly rhythm returns
The plan from here is simple: weekly blog posts. Why? The habit makes me show up, and showing up is how any of this becomes real.
If you’ve been here through the quiet stretch, thank you. If you’re also juggling a pile of half-finished things, consider this your friendly reminder that “back on track” usually starts with one unsexy task and a stubborn little decision to keep going.
Next post is one of the items above, no new side quests allowed. If you’re digging yourself out of a backlog too, tell me what you’re up to this week. I’ll cheer from the garage.
