The Beginning - As Told by Sister

If you were at all amused at the narrative of how I came about obtaining Engine 17, you might want to read the first several posts of my sister's blog, which is a thorough review of her point of view of the same events.

I just finished re-reading it, and was again amused. It is much easier to be nuts when you can freely admit it.

Click here to start.

Pickup Day - Part II

Sister is realllly wanting in the engine with me, so first things first. Go to her south end house so she can drop the burden of having her own vehicle along, and we have a few places we want to go. We pull up, neighbors giving us undisguised and puzzled stares, and I give a couple of blasts on the out-of-tune Grover 1510's (they have lost their 'firetruck' stuttertone sound and bring to mind instead a UPS truck... another project).

The brother in law was just heading out the door to pick up the nephew in the north end. Sister parks the Explorer and in a flash she has an evil plan.

Soon she and I are on our way to pick up her kid and his girlfriend from an afternoon party. In the engine, of course. All the way across town to another neighborhood, more stares, more honks, more fun. It was unclear if nephew would be mortified or thrilled. He claimed the latter, and he and his girlfriend took the jumpseats before we pulled away with more weak UPS truck honks.

First stop: Tacoma Fire Station 2, where rumor has it one of the other 1970 ALF sisters is in storage in the basement (Station 2's basement has a rear ground-level entry and used to be the Fire Garage a long, long time ago). TFD has a handful of old apparatus quietly retained for eventual museum purposes, it is hoped, and in future years it will be realized just how valuable and cool this is. As luck would have it, a Battalion Chief was just returning from another errand and met us at the back. Alas, the sister is not here, but in another facility not easily accessed without prior arrangements. Amusingly, this BC also vaguely remembers me as the whacker kid fire buff from 8's of many years ago. I think he is pleased to see that I turned out sane and allegedly a productive member of the service. But wait, I just drove up in a privately-owned fire engine.... OK never mind the appearance of sanity. I think he was just being polite.

Next stop: Old Tacoma Fire Station 8. It is a private residence now, so we don't want to intrude. I park the engine in the street in front of the apron, jump out and grab a couple of pictures, and we're out of there. We amuse ourselves ever so slightly by running the engine back down 43rd Street towards 'M' Street as we recall Engine 8 doing endless times from our childhoods.

The nephew and girlfriend have had about enough now (it is a super-hot day even without sitting next to the hot cowl over the raging Detroit Diesel), so we drop them off at home. Still, they were all grins waving back at people giving them the usual puzzled stares and happy waves from the children.

Next stop: Tacoma Fire Station 10, this engine's apparent last full-time house when assigned in Tacoma. Luckily, the current iteration of Tacoma Engine 10 is in the house. 10's is one of the busiest companies in Tacoma now (~3,000 runs per year), so this is a stroke of good luck. We park across the street at first to stay out of the way, and knock on the door. Listening to just the duty crew, it was something like "Can we help you? You have a what? Really? Oh, it's here??" So we have FF Brent and FF Karen humoring us and our surprise drop-in, but you know it is cool for them to get a first-hand contact with the past of their house, something they are too young to have ridden when it was still with Tacoma. The LT didn't come out. Maybe he knew who I was, heh. Anyway, soon they insist that we back the engine right onto the apron for pictures. FF Karen even presented me with a parting gift when it was time for us to move on and let them get back to their day, which was extremely nice of her, and above and beyond... as for me it was gift enough to see old Engine 10 in front of her old house.

I'd post pictures - I have them - but the Blogspot posting interface doesn't work 100% on the computer I am using at the moment, but pictures will be forthcoming at some point.

Next stop: Mom's house. Living by old Station 8 was a significant part of her life, too, though she moved away from there several years before old Station 8 closed. Sister and I stop and switch places before we pull up, and Mom's husband is shocked to see sister behind the wheel as we pull up... "Wait.... you're driving??" This tickles him and Mom to no end. It is a short visit because time is tight. Mom really and truly thought I was nuts to buy this engine and made sure to tell me as much in advance, but I arrange for silence before starting up the big engine again, and she cannot contain her emotional reaction. She clenches a fist in victory, looks up and says "Yessssss!" You see, she's not nuts, but if it invoked this response in her anyway, then you get what it does for my sister and I. Well, just say you do and we'll move on anyway.

The last two appearances of the day were at house parties. One was a party that sister was involved in, and all of the grownups came out and walked around and climbed on and poked in and opened every door and compartment on that engine. Like young kids always wanted to do, but I gave them the green light to explore to their hearts content, and they all dropped 20 years for the next fifteen minutes.

Finally to a housewarming party that I had been invited to that day, and I parked the engine right on the front lawn. I'll tell ya... that sure brought out the neighbors for a meet and greet at the housewarming! There were lots of actual children this time, and again they got the green light to have fun. If I ever get this engine a new paint job, access will be restricted, but right now it is a 'working' piece, and a few more scuffs are of no importance. We stayed close to keep them from falling off or getting hurt, but I am here to tell you those kids had a blast. Literally. Lots of them. Lots and lots. So much so, in fact, that I swear they would have emptied the air tanks completely out with all that air horn blasting action except that I was sure we were heading towards a disturbing the peace complaint and finally put the kabosh on air horn usage.

It was a long and lonely dark drive home after that.

It was about as grand of a pickup day as one could hope for.

I don't know when this engine will get back to her hometown again, but the one grand day in town was sort of epic considering how long she had waited for it. And sometimes home isn't about place as much as it is about being cared for. I have a wife and six children who are my first priority, and other obligations that come after, but I intend to provide old Engine 10 a good place.

Welcome home, baby.

Pickup Day - Part I

I rode up from the Portland area to Tacoma by train, and crashed out at the in-laws (they're the best.. it just kicks all to have great in-laws). Bright and early Saturday morning, my sister picks me up, and northward we go, through Seattle up to Mukilteo to catch the ferry to Whidbey Island, where my pumper awaits. It is a great drive up, filled with anticipation for both of us. My sister is every bit as nuts about this as I am.

We arrive at our destination, and I see the rig parked at the end of the field. Wow, I am actually buying a fire engine. I am nuts... yeah yeah, we've been over that. Sister feels the same way... wow, he's really buying a fire engine.... he's nuts... we both are.

The gentleman selling her walks us around the rig. I've been holding a slight hope that it was my 'home' rig, Engine 8, but we quickly spot the '10' on the back. That's cool, it is still one of the eight sisters, and 10 is a busy house adjacent to 8's first-due that shares nearly all its fires with 8, as 8 often did with 10. She was missing her Q siren and all of her original warning lights, only a slightly modernized roof warning beacon remained. She was missing several of her intake and discharge caps as well as her Stang water cannon. A couple of rolls of hose were all she had for equipment, hosebed and ladder rack bare bones empty. But that can all be fixed later.... this is one of the eight sisters.

Then, he started her up.

Oh.... that SOUND! I remember it well, and a lot of memories came right back. Hearing that old familiar Detroit Diesel roar to life was.... well... amazing. Inside I am all... 'Yessss!'

We took her out for a quick test drive, and she ran beautifully.

I drove two other American LaFrance engines often on the job before this day. One was a 1984 refurbed 'Type 1000 Century Series', and the other a 1990 'Century 2000'... and while I loved them for being ALF rigs, they did not have the same sound as old Engine 10 and her sisters. What was markedly different this time, was that the sound was a constant for us in the cab as we drove, not a coming or going. Interesting.

We returned, exchanged funds and paperwork, and headed out.

First stop, the hardware store. She still bore the markings of the last agency she worked for, Grant County Fire District #13. We purchased some white contact paper and cut it to size to cover the door markings, the unit ID markings under the jumpseat windows, and the unit ID marking on the nose. On the doors and nose we use a permanent marker to clearly mark this engine as NOT IN SERVICE, and also to cover the warning light on the roof and the now-invalid Washington State "Aid Car License" on the windshield.

You see, I had no interest whatsoever in being waved down by someone in distress. I anticipated having no equipment, and although it turned out to have a little bit of hose aboard, a pneumatic actuator was not functioning and she would not go into pump gear, nor was a nozzle to be had. I admit I did bring my turnout gear and a very nice first-aid/trauma jump kit, but I hoped to not need it. I deliberately avoided wearing anything that would made me look even remotely like a firefighter on or off duty.

It started quickly... I think we talked to five people in the parking lot of this small hardware store on Whidbey island who stopped to look at her, realizing it was a privately-owned toy. Mostly older guys. Yeah, they had boats and stuff... but you could tell they suddenly (if only temporarily) had Fire Engine Envy. This continued all day.

Driving her onto the ferry was a treat. Sister had the roughest time... she wanted to be in the fire engine, not following. Darn all the luck, I swear she would have sold that Ford Explorer to the first person that offered $100 just so she could ride back in the engine, but no one came forward in time.

The ride back to Tacoma was uneventful, except for the part where I spoke inside the cab while approaching the Tacoma Dome on I-5 as if old Engine 10 could hear me.

"Welcome home, baby. Welcome home".

Nuts? Yeah, I am. But I accepted that many years ago.

The Beginning

I grew up in Tacoma, Washington, just a few doors down from Fire Station 8 at South 43rd and "L" Streets. Although my sister had the 'bug' first, by the time I was out of elementary school, I knew that I wanted to be a firefighter when I grew up.

I started hanging around Station 8 all the time. I mean, ALL the time. I was an over-the-top Fire Buff... someone who just loves being around firefighters and firefighting. Without going into too much detail (because this blog isn't really supposed to be about me), let's just say that it is a miracle that I didn't get myself killed, the way I chased after calls in South Tacoma on my bicycle and often got a bit too close to the action.

I owe much to the patience of the firefighters of that time who kept me alive despite myself. Mel Smith, Milt Nelson, Joe Stiles, Brian Trunk, Kenny Faulkner, Mike Newhouse, Davey Jones, Don Hoffman, Jeff Hokensen, Ben Baltazar, Cornelius Winesberry, Lonnie Hampton ... these are a few of the names that come right to mind, but there were many others. Some patient, others not so much - but understandably so. Yeah you guys, I was pretty much hopeless, all enthusiasm and no common sense, but you all kicked me in the teeth and busted my balls enough that I eventually became useful as a firefighter later on.

ANYway.....

Back in the day, Engine 8 was a 1970 American LaFrance 'Type 900' pumper, and being the first engine I became very familiar with, it is established in my mind as the embodiment of the romanticised ideal fire engine. Tacoma had eight of these engines, as well as three ALF truck companies (two 80' (?) Snorkels and a tiller-driven aerial), from 1970. Tacoma already had some 1964 Type 900's before this, and also eventually ran another ALF TDA (1972) and a couple of ALF Century Series pumpers with 50' Telesqrt booms (1976) before moving to other manufacturers in subsequent years.

Fast forward.

I have been a firefighter since 1993. There is a small set of firefighters and other fire buffs who own old fire apparatus, not unlike all of the many car collectors out there. It's just that fire engines require a bigger storage space. I had long wanted to pick up an old pumper, but had no specific schedule to do so.

A month or so ago, an old engine showed up on a used car lot near me. I stopped in to see it, a 1966 Mack Model 'C'. It was nice enough, had issues to be expected on a 45 year old truck, but nothing show-stopping. I was hemming and hawing about it. Money I could arrange. Storage I had already. But was this 'the one'?

While discussing it with my sister, she asked about the old '70 ALF Engine 8, which had been replaced in 1987 with a lime-yellow Spartan/Thibault pumper that lacked character (and a Q2B siren). She didn't remember what year it was, or quite how it looked.

When crafting my reply, I did a web search to find pictures of a 1970 ALF pumper for reference.

The 3rd result: A CraigsList ad posted only the day prior, offering one of Tacoma's eight 1970 American LaFrance pumpers for sale.

No. Way.

It would have been grand to get my hands on any late 60's or early 70's ALF, that would have been close enough. Really cool to get a '70 ALF, the 'right' year. But one of the eight 1970 Tacoma ALFs? Are you kidding? I have heard so many times from people who talked about rare or once-in-a-lifetime opportunities to buy the fill-in-the-blank, didn't jump on it, and forever regretted it. The implausibility of how this played out only encouraged my feeling that it was 'meant to be'. So, I followed the advice given, contacted the seller immediately, and picked it up a few days later.

As it turned out, this pumper was Tacoma Engine 10 in its last full-time assignment with Tacoma, from the district located just to the south of Engine 8's district. When Tacoma eventually sold it from their reserve fleet, it was picked up by Grant County Fire District #5, who owned it for the next thirteen years. Grant 5 painted it white over lime yellow (travesty!!), and it was serving as Grant 5's Engine 561 upon its second retirement. Old Engine 10 found its third career with Grant County Fire District #13, where it was serving as Engine 1312 when retired for the final time three years ago.

At least two private owners later, I now own her.

And that's the story of how this all got started.