Bruce Blackwell (#1)

Bruce Blackwell, is the type of person who has his own way of doing things. He’s a man of his word. We will follow Bruce, on his journey in life.

Bruce Blackwell was a man of many talents. He wore many hats, so to speak.  Bruce is a very  handsome man, the kind of man who the ladies would chase. His eyes were sea wave blue. His hair was long, wavy and the color, of pale sand. Bruce was not a weight lifer, nor was he a fitness freak. But, his body was well maintained. He stands five foot, nine inches tall, not a giant among men. His completion, was that of a person who had been in the sun most of the day. Bruce had a smile, that could make any person look his way a second time. Bruce was an attractive man, but to him, he was just an ordinary guy. Bruce walked, or rode a bicycle, rather than drive a car. Bruce owned a trailer in a small trailer park, called Upside Down Trailer park. The trailer park was located on the out skirts of a thriving city, and down a dusty road that led nowhere.

trailer.jpgBruce had been living in the park for years. Maybe it was best to say, that his trailer had been there for several years. Bruce loved to travel. He save his money, and go to a location to explore. He was a designer, who helped people draw up plans for a house, business, or any other type of structure. He was in demand, but always made sure to get away for at least a month or two every year. His work most times would have him flying to different out-of-the-way places to see his client. He said, it always gave him a better understanding of what the client wanted on paper. He never got to see some of the creations he had made blue prints for, and it was a rare occasion, if he did. He was on his way to a remote place in Alaska. This place was going to be a lodge for hunters, and fishermen. Bruce had dug out his arctic style coat, boots, and ski pants. He was told it was very cold there, and to be ready for a skidoo ride from the air strip to the client’s home. winter.jpgBruce never realized how cold it was in Alaska, until he stepped off the plane. The wind stung any bit of flesh that was uncovered. Before, Bruce even got on the skidoo, his facial hair was filled with icy crystals, created by his breath. Alaska was darn cold, he thought to himself. He made his way over to a large building that looked like it would be for putting the aircraft in. Inside was slightly warmer than the outside. People were huddled around an old wood stove from the eighteenth century. “Hello,” Bruce said, as he drew closer to the group. “Oh, hello,” someone from the group had said. “I’m Bruce Blackwell, and I’m here to meet a Mr. Barton,” Bruce said, as hoped someone would leave the group, so he knew who he was talking to. A wiry looking fella emerged from the group, approaching Bruce with a hand extended. The man had a good grip on him, and Bruce felt like he was going to break his hand. “Howdy, I’m Mr. Barton, call me Rusty, my friends call me that.” “Are we leaving anytime soon for the clients house, and how far is it from here?” Bruce asked. “Not far,” Rusty said. “It’s about an hour ride by skidoo.” He said. “We’ll be riding through the woods, which will make the wind not bite so much.” Rusty explained. Bruce just stood nodding his head as Rusty spoke. “Do you have something to keep the cold off your neck?” Rusty asked. Bruce had packed a skidoo mask that went down into his coat, and a scarf. Bruce started to rummage through a back pack he had brought. While Rusty watched. 

winter.jpgBruce was dressed like one of those little children in a snow suit. The type of snow suit that if you fell down, there was absolutely no way of getting back up without help. Rusty said, “You ready to go Bruce?” “Yup, let’s get moving Rusty,” Bruce said. “Here is your helmet,” Rusty said, passing the helmet over to Bruce. The helmet felt tight on Bruce’s head. It made him feel like his ears were being shamed into the sides of his head. The skidoo was ready to go, and warmed up. Rusty sat on the front part of the seat, and Bruce at the back. “Hold on Rusty yelled to Bruce.” And before Bruce was totally ready, Rusty took off. Bruce strained every muscle in his body, trying not fall off.  He regained his up right position, and held onto a leather strap on the seat. The snow flew past Bruce’s face, like a blizzard was upon them. The evergreen branches were covered with ice crystals, that sparkled in the rays of sun light that had pierced through the trees. It was beautiful, and eerie at the same time. The sound of the skidoo bounced off trees, as they sped by.

snow.jpg The ride through the forest was beautiful, Bruce had even seen a herd of Elk, grazing on the blades of grass they had dug up from under the snow.  They stood staring as the skidoo as it buzzed by them. The trip seemed longer than expected, and Bruce was feeling the cold. His feet where warm, but his hands where beginning to freeze. Bruce could see a small cluster of cabins, or at least they looked like cabins. The snow was piled high, in front of the doors, and half way up the windows. There was no smoke coming from any chimney. This place must be where summer visitors came to stay while fishing or hunting. Rusty seemed use to this weather, and the cold. The cabins disappeared behind them in the whirling snow that had been thrown up by the skidoo. Bruce could see smoke creeping through the trees. There had to be a house up ahead, he had no idea if he could stand the constant pain in his hands. A memory of a man who had frozen fingers, so bad they had to be cut off, because of frost bite. “What would I do?” “How would I work?” Bruce thought. His mind was racing, and panic was creeping into his mind. He wanted to scream out loud, but what would Rusty think of him. “Am I just a whiny little city boy?” He thought to himself. He bit his tongue, and could taste blood in his mouth. “Am I going to make it to the client’s the forest opened up in front of them, and there was the house. The client’s house, he was finally there, and just in time. The skidoo parked by the garage door, and it opened to let Rusty pull his skidoo into the garage to keep the machine warm so it wouldn’t freeze up. The warmth in the garage was welcoming. Rusty got off the machine as Bruce tapped on the door of the house. 

Bruce had a very cold ride that had made his hands feel frozen. His mind was running wild, with thoughts of loosing his fingers. Join me tomorrow to see how Bruce’s frozen fingers made out.

Take care of those you love, and say I love you often.

I would like to thank all my followers, readers, and visitors for visiting. 🙂gran driving red  lips (2).jpgMAGS.

“Have a wonderful Monday.” “Keep warm when outside in the snow.”

I would like to thank the many talented photographers at Up Splash for their contributions.

Please, leave any comments below. Thanks. 🙂




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