We Have a New President!

Note:  This represents a departure from the norm of not writing anything about politics.

The fall election of 2012 is over.  Turnout for the election was good, meaning terrible.  Approximately 30% of registered voters did not vote, and a sizable minority of people are not even registered.  If any candidate or issue could tap into these groups, the election would be over before it started.
Turnout for presidential elections is typically higher than for off-year elections.  This is reactionary to the reality that while the president holds an important role, many other elections, whether issues or more local candidates arguably have a bigger effect on our day-to-day lives than the president.  But, the turnout on these elections is often 50% or less.  When unregistered voters are included, the turnout is abysmal.
It is easy to complain about the state or direction of current events and politics.  Decisions are made by apathy.  There is much complaining that the fringes of the two parties control the parties and thus the political machine.  The fringes vote, so they have the louder voice.  The fringe feeds the beast with the money it needs.  This feeds the impression that the country is more divided than it really is.
"To you:  The Great Silent Majority." - Richard Nixon

As the title of this post suggest, we have a new president.  He is the same physical human being as we have had for slightly less than the last four years, but this second election changes him.  It has to.  The type of personality that runs for president is an Uber-Type-A personality.  Obama started to think about the 2012 election the day after he was elected in 2008.  Or likely before.  He has more in common with the big business leaders he vilified in the election than the people who elect him.  Obama has more in common with Romney than the people who elect him.
People very often vote for the person who they think would be more like them, who would like to sit down over a beer with.  People in politics at that the upper federal level do not want to sit down with the common electorate.  The electorate are the tools they need to have their next career move.  It is instructive that people elected at the federal level are almost universally paid in the upper few percent of incomes in the United States.
Cynical?  Maybe, but honest.

Winning the election must be bit sad for Obama.  At the age of 51 he is at the pinnacle of his career.  He has four more years to be in the BabyFace-Nelson spotlight.  After that, his role will change to one of more a grandfatherly role for the Democratic Party.
Many presidents have gone on to do more important work after the transfer of power.  Nixon left in near-disgrace, but his behind the scene work in China laid groundwork that prevented the current US relationship with that country from being the current friend/competitor state, to outright enemy.  Carter left to go on to monitor elections around the world, calling corrupt third world elections free and fair while condemning minor issues in the US as disgraceful.  The odd-couple pairing of Clinton and GHW Bush is amusing, but further illustrates the point.  Yet, the spotlight is gone.
Most federal-level politicians will re-robe in politics for "major" elections, but it can not possibly be the same.

"This is my last election. After my election I have more flexibility." - Barack Obama
Winning the election must be very freeing for Obama.  At 51 he has the ability to do whatever he wants without the constraints of needing to reapply for his current job in for more years.  Financially, he and his family is set for life, but they already were years ago.
The reality is more complicated.  There is a separation of powers and in the short term, President Obama can only do what congress pushes his way.  He has other options for his agenda as president and commander-in-chief, but the Supreme Court also serves as a check.
While the three branches of government do serve as a roadblock to doing whatever he really wants to do, it is secondary to his own road block.  He is likely more worried about what his legacy will be, how history will perceive him in 10, 50, 100 years.  This includes what effect he has on his political partners and party.  If Obama were to push radical change he may (or may not?) believe in, but it resulted in years of set-backs for the political left, his legacy would be forever tarnished.
And so constrained by his own legacy, we are left with a political situation that exists only slightly different than what existed a few months ago.
If Romney would have been elected, things would be a little different, but the same personal constraints on history would have resulted in any difference being muted.

The press will deconstruct the election six ways 'til Sunday (I have no idea what that phrase means) and the political glitterati will speak prepared, tired lines about what the election really means and how this election sets the stage for years of change.
It may happen, but hundreds of years in this country suggest cynicism.  Globally it is the same, outside of dictatorial changes.
For most of us, we'll go on about our day-to-day lives.  Going to work, buying groceries and dealing with issues federal politicians can't possible fathom.  When is the last time that either Michelle or Barack Obama actually went into a Walmart to buy something?  Or went to Walgreen's since they were out of deodorant?  I'd suggest these mundane things we all do are about as foreign to both Obama and Romney as our visits to the West Wing.

And I'll move on to writing about more important things every week.  Especially since next week marks the beginning of my deer season.

2009 Toyota Tacoma Review

There are many reviews available for new cars.  Online reviews, magazine reviews, TV news reviews, etc.  The objectivity of these reviews can at times be questionable (who pays for the actual costs of the magazine).  How often do new car reviews really reveal what ownership may be like?
It does happen, but rarely are there true long term reviews.  I have now owned my 2009 Toyota Tacoma Access Cab truck for four years after buying it new.  I've put approximately 50,000 miles on it.  It has not had any major repair yet (more on that in a bit).  There have been a few warranty repairs, one recall and lots of maintenance.  Most of the maintenance I have done myself.
Details about the Truck:
2009 Access Cab (Generation 2)
2.7 Liter 4-Cylinder 2TR-FE Engine
5 speed manual R155 transmission.
Four Wheel Drive

I bought this truck in 2008 near the height of the high gas prices that year.  I had an F-150 that I liked, but it was starting to have issues with the transmission, likely started when I had a transmission line perforate with a pinhole due to corrosion and loose a lot of fluid.  I know it was fixable, but I had two hunting trips coming up a significant distance away and given the gas prices, it was time for a new truck.  The Tacoma was the only open-bedded pickup available with a four-cylinder engine and four wheel drive.  Compared to other 4wd trucks at the time, it gets comparably good gas mileage.  With the small engine, it can't pull anything, but I rarely to never need to pull a trailer.  The bed doesn't need to haul around a fifth wheel, but does need to carry bulky and bloody (hunting) stuff from time to time.

The only modifications I've made to the truck are installing fog lights in place of the ugly cup holders Toyota puts in the front bumper.  How can any car company do this when factory fog lights would only marginally add to the cost of the vehicle?  They all do it though.  The bed is made out of some kind of composite plastic and has held up very well so far.  It is very slippery though so I bought the Toyota rubber mat for the bed.  Oddly, the mat likes to grow algae.

Aesthetically, the truck is a good looking vehicle.  Of all the trucks I have owned, I have received more compliments on this truck than any other vehicle.  Surprising in that the Tacoma is not a very rare sight.  The "Electric Blue" paint does get noticed though.

I have not completed the only recall on the vehicle yet.  This is the floor mat and accelerator pedal issue that was in the news so much several years ago.  Frankly, given the anemic response of the underpowered engine, if the truck would suddenly accelerate fast enough to scare me it would be kind of refreshing.  I'll do it eventually, I'm not thrilled with the nearest Toyota dealer so it will take something else to get me in there.

As I've eluded to, the performance of the truck is anemic.  The 2.7 liter engine is adequate at best.  It sounds like an acceptable trade off for fuel economy, but given the performance the truck feels like it should get about 68 miles to the gallon.  To date, overall mileage is just over 23 miles per gallon.  Ford claims only slightly less than this in the turbo Ecotec V6 in their F-150.  Ram now has nearly the same in a normally aspirated V6 with the Pentastar engine and nearly 300 horse power.  Toyota has some catch up here - seriously!

The transmission is sound, but the shifter feels terrible, very rubbery.  This is surprising given that it is directly actuated and not done through cables or floppy rods.  Actually it is worse than terrible.  Toyota builds cars quickly and for the masses.  These are fast-food vehicles.  It is a truck, but it is not a Driver's Truck!  Toyota needs to drive some other manual transmission vehicles for comparison.  What I find surprising about manual transmissions is how bad they have gotten overall.  I cut my teeth on older British cars.  For all their faults, the transmissions shifted with a satisfying watch-like feel; the best ones "snicked" into gear.  The interior is laid out well with the exception of the cruise control.  There is a perfect spot on the steering wheel that looks like it was designed to house the cruise control buttons, but cruise control sits on an awkward stalk in the lower right quadrant hidden below the steering wheel.  All controls function well.  There was one clip in a door which broke loose resulting in horrid buzzing which was repaired under warranty - although the dealer seemed very put off at being asked to repair this $3 issue, asking me several times what I did to cause it.  When new, the radio in the truck had major issues.  It would turn on by itself, turn off by itself, randomly change stations and volume.  I had it replaced under warranty.  My local dealership took many many many months to get the new radio in.  I think they were totally jacking off at the time.

Despite the pathetic engine performance  the truck drives well.  It rides a little rough, but not unexpected given the light weight.  This is the first vehicle I've owned with traction control.  I was a little skeptical at first, but it works extremely well.  It can be annoying when it kicks in, like a parent taking over controls from a teenager, but it does work.  Rarely have I needed four wheel drive in winter and then only on the worst days.  Brakes are adequate but definitely not great.  They feel terrible.  Pressing the brake pedal feels like stepping on some rotten fruit.  Again, this is not a driver's vehicle.  It would have been nice if Toyota could have provided at least some brake pedal feedback.
I have done very little off-road driving in the vehicle.  In off-road conditions and when I have used it on deeply snowed roads, the performance of the four-wheel drive system has been flawless.  Given the light weight, I would have thought that driving in snow even with four-wheel drive would have been more difficult.  This is likely the strongest point of the truck.

The two biggest quality issues I have seen with the vehicle are the paint and the clutch.
After four years and 50,000 miles, I expect some chips and scratches in the paint.  However, there are obviously and significant flaws in the paint coming to through the surface.  This is not 1972 where cars are painted in lacquer and repainting should be expected.  This is horridly unacceptable.  The picture here shows one of the major flaws on the hood.

There are other examples spread over the vehicle so there is almost no chance the flaws are due to something external.  The most egregious example just happens to be in this most noticeable location.  Toyota should be embarrassed. The paint is starting to have issues on the wheels, but this is expected at this point in the life of the truck given the alloy wheels - I don't expect the finish to stay perfect.  Again, the paint flaws are numerous and tragic at this point.

On a few occasions  the clutch has been very slow to engage.  This has happened intermittently.  Unfortunately, this may mean that the clutch is starting to disintegrate, a failing common to the model.  There are other common and known clutch issues with this drivetrain.  Almost all of my driving is highway or rural roads.  Nearly half of the miles on the vehicle are from several trips taken across country on the interstate.  Given this and my conservative driving style, a clutch should last well over 100,000 miles and probably twice that.  What is most maddening about the clutch is that these trucks have had known issues with the clutches for years and years.  Toyota will only stand behind them for the original warranty even with multiple Technical Service Bulletins out on the issues.  See  T-SB-0066-11, T-SB-0128-12, T-SB-0103-11 for more information.  From what I've been able to glean, most of their clutches are iffy at best, but the LUK clutches should have been removed from new vehicles years ago.  Toyota should find other ways to cut costs rather than using substandard clutches.  The manual clutch is ancient technology, it is well past time to get it right.
The quality reputation of Toyota is more a myth than a reality.  I don't know how much longer they can ride on that magic carpet while knowingly doing things like building vehicles with questionable clutches.  Cost-saving mechanical gremlins that are cheap and easy to fix are one thing, but a clutch is just about in the middle of the vehicle.  Whatever bean-counting engineer thinks the current clutches in the Tacoma are acceptable should be shot.

In short, the verdict is mixed.  The vehicle gets adequate mileage and is a good choice when heavy hauling is not needed, but there are likely better options available now.  Or, at least there is serious competition for decent mileage trucks.  Overall, a truck that doesn't need to haul a trailer full of cows that gets good mileage and has realistic performance is still needed.
Aesthetics of the truck are above average and driving the truck is OK, but this is not a driver's vehicle by any sense of the imagination.  Four wheel drive performance and traction control combine to make a good vehicle for less than perfect driving conditions.
Fit and finish of the vehicle after four years is sub-par.  Other very expensive questionable issues that are acknowledged by Toyota remain for years making the overall quality of a Toyota more a myth than a reality.

Here's looking forward to another 50,000 miles.

Fade to Beige

"I’m beginning to believe that anything I do to extend my life is just going to be outweighed by the agony of living it." – Donald Pollock

I hate getting older.  No, that isn't quite right.  I don't hate being older or getting older.  I hate finding myself in an older state.

I hate worrying about things like fiber in my diet.
I hate RVs.
I hate that I work with people born in the 1980s - no, again wrong.  I hate that references to Bull Shannon are met with vague confused looks, never mind any reference to It's Your Move.
I hate that my demographics make me a better target for "Just For Men" hair dye than hair gel.  I don't want to use either.
I miss The Cold War and the Iron Curtain.
I hate that they make shoes with velcro straps.  If I ever buy a pair, I hope someone shoots me.
I hate that I get annoyed when my hair gets longer than about an inch.
I miss drinking Pepsi out of a tall glass bottle.
I hate Clear Channel.

About two years ago I wanted to buy a cart to pull behind my 4-wheeler for yard work.  Considering these are glorified wheel barrows, I found them surprisingly expensive.  I saw a couple used ones on Craig's List and one great one for sale on a street I drive often on my way home from work, but this was around the time I was moving and I didn't want to have to move one more thing.
After moving, I found a Rubbermaid cart on Craig's list.  It looked in pretty good shape and the price was about right so I went to look at it.

The seller was probably a little older than I was.  He had developed that Paul Simon "soft in the middle" shape (I'm well on my way there).  He lived in a newer suburban area.  He lived in a beige house surrounded by other domiciles robed in beige, grey and off-white.  He had a light-brown minivan in the driveway.  There were two kids in between his and the neighbor's house with beige hair.  He wore khaki pants.
I was hoping for something a little more beefy as I was having a hard time seeing this cart being pulled behind an ATV filled with rocks around my acreage.  But, the price was right and I was really busy at the time.  While discussing the price, the seller said, "Well, it is made by Rubbermaid so you know it's indestructible.  It will last forever."
I believe in modern polymers.  I own a Glock.  I own two motorcycles clad in tupperware.  Rubbermaid and indestructible do not belong in the same sentence.
As I was looking at this plastic cart, with its puny tilt mechanism and questionable tongue attachment, I couldn't imagine how anyone could see this as indestructible.
To be fair, I still own and use it, but I haven't used it as much as I thought I would.  The axle is a little bent and I have a hard time getting the sides to securely fit.  The tilt mechanism is a joke; it is easier to unhook it and tilt the whole cart.  It has survived considering being pulled by and ATV is likely outside of the original design specifications.

Finding myself in an older state, I hope I never see a Rubbermaid cart as indestructible.  This isn't to denigrate the beige man I bought it from.  I hope he is happy.
I'll embrace the older state.  Despite the tone of this post, I've got little about which to be uncontent.  Nothing scares me more than moving from here to even more boring.  Fade to...beige.

(and Happy Birthday Mahmoud Ahmadinejad)

Why Travel by Motorcycle

So I wrote this page and then decided to submit it to one of my motorcycle magazines that takes subscriptions from subscribers.
There is probably a 2% chance it will even get read, so I'll post it here in a few weeks after I haven't heard anything from them (for the 2 people that read this blog).

Motorcycle Touring (and a little Zen); What is needed?

I recently finished reading Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance by Robert Pirsig.  This book now falls into the very small subset of books that I have read twice in my adult life.  It would not normally have been a book I would have reread, but my boss gave me a copy shortly before I left for my motorcycle road trip out west.

I am actually glad I reread it.  I read it the first time over eight years ago and I don't think I understood it.  I know I didn't get the end.  Spoiler alert!  At the end, the victorious character is Phaedrus, not the more societally acceptable narrator.  That changes the book a bit from what I remember of the first reading.  I hope my boss didn't give it to me as a commentary on my mental state, but he may have.

To be honest, some of the philosophy parts of the book are a bit painful to read.  But the motorcycle parts are fun and the break-up of both with the other makes for an interesting read.  What made the book extra fun to read this time is my trip out west took me through many of the same areas mentioned in the book.  Mobridge, South Dakota; Miles City, Montana; Missoula, Montana; Lolo, Montana.  I can't help but wonder if the canyon the author sees in Oregon is the same one I stopped at.  The book is semi-autobiographical and semi-fictional and likely much has changed since the author took his trip.  But, maybe not.
I was affected by reading the afterword to learn that the real life Chris was murdered while still young...

Motorcycle touring might have changed since the book was written in 1974.  Roads have changed, bikes have changed, and even travel has changed to a degree.  So, I give Part One of a few posts on motorcycle touring (not sure if these will be consecutive).  I've been traveling on two wheels for over 10 years now and my adventures have taken me through at least 37 states and well over 100,000 miles.

My Philosophy of motorcycle travel revolves around minimalism.  This might sound silly coming from someone who owns a Goldwing (a bike big enough to have its own zip code) and an ST1300 (a baby wing), so I admit some hypocrisy here.  Previous bikes I've used for touring include a Harley Davidson Electraglide and SuperGlide T-Sport.  The T-Sport was one of Harley's truly great all-purpose bikes; it is too bad it only survived for a few years.
Almost any bike can be used for touring.  It needs to be interstate legal and interstate capable.  The two are not the same.  A 250cc bike may be interstate legal, but the capability with two? people and a load may be questionable.
If I didn't do long distance, 2-up touring, I would not have a bike as big as the Goldwing.  I do and I do enjoy it.  As one fellow who I met on the Alaska highway said of the corider role, "That has to be the hardest job in the world."  An uncomfortable passenger is a short ride.  I actually like the ST1300 a little more for most solo trips though.  I've often thought an "adventure" bike outfitted for the road (and not dirt) would make a great single tourer; sort of a modern version of what used to be a standard bike.
My personal preference is that a bike used for touring should be LOW maintenance.  I will have a hard time going back to chain driven motorcycles.  I get wrist pain on really long days so I really like having the option of factory cruise control.  As much as I like two-lane roads, going on long stretches regardless of the road can be much more enjoyable with cruise control.
One thing I don't care about is a radio.  My first bike that had a radio was my 2004 Electraglide.  I envisioned listening to tunes for miles down the open road.  I found out quickly that with only brief exceptions, I like the contemplative quiet (relative) much more.

I enjoy camping, but not on the bike.  Camping is an end to itself.  Camping is about doing almost nothing; taking all morning to make breakfast and clean up only to start making lunch a short time later.
I love riding early morning and this is antithetical to camping.  Traffic is less.  Evil RVs are still in the campgrounds, not destroying an otherwise nice road.  After long days on the road, I'll gladly pay for a bed, my own bathroom and a shower.  This allows for much lighter packing.  Even though I have a Goldwing, I pack as if it was a much smaller bike.
I feel sorry for people who need to motorcycle tour with a trailer.  When asked how I can survive for two weeks or more on the road I usually respond (semi) tongue in cheek that all I really need are a credit card and a pistol.  A trailer ruins too much of the mobility of the bike.  Humans don't have tails, bikes shouldn't either.  I've also known several people who have had accidents or problems on the road as a direct result of trailers.  Nope, not for me.
To be fair, I used to say the same thing about bikes like the Goldwing or Electraglide though.

There are a few and only a few bike specific necessities.  Any major problem on a bike is likely going to need a tow.  And while I have fixed some things on the road, what I normally take is a few hand tools appropriate for the bike.  Don't bring an american wrench set if you ride a K1600GTL.  The one thing that should be in every touring bike is a good tire plug kit and a small tire inflater.  The Stop-n-Go plug kit is great.  I've used the plugs successfully for thousands of miles, even though any plug should be considered temporary.  CO2 cartridge inflators work, but they will run out.  The CyclePump is a bulletproof air compressor which is extremely small, if a bit heavy.

Road clothes should be all day comfortable.  Leather looks and smells good, but I prefer textiles over dead animal skin.  I've settled on a waterproof coat with many vents.  I have the TourMaster Transition but there are may similar jackets.  These can be a bit pricey, but when the cost is amortized over thousands of miles they are almost free.  I do not use the liners but instead carry a heavy flannel shirt.  It packs lighter, serves the purpose of a liner and is dual use as a light jacket or cool weather clothes.  On trips expecting colder weather, I also carry a fleece shirt.  These pack up very small.  Boots must be waterproof and comfortable as old friends.  I'm sure I'm approaching if not exceeding 80,000 miles on my current pair and I will be very said when they eventually crack or otherwise break.
A rain suit is a must too.  Use it too.  Too often, I see approaching rain and think it isn't that bad.  Being cold and wet is miserable.  Just stop and put it on - he says to self.
Wear a helmet.  Put all the hype about freedom, neck injuries and the thickness of the skull somewhere else.  They are required in some states, don't pack well and once someone gets used to wearing it, not having it feels odd.  Find one that is likable (or tolerable) and just wear it.  I'll stand down from that soap box.

What else to pack?  A few underclothes, a few t-shirts, a pair of shorts and a second pair of squishable shoes (I have cheap imitation Chuck Taylors).  And, always bring a camera.  Always.  Don't forget the credit card and pistol.  With those two things, access is granted to anything else needed.

That is pretty much all that is needed to tour.  If someone is thinking about it, Do It!

Future posts on the topic:
Why travel by motorcycle
How to travel by motorcycle (this may not be as obvious as it sounds); life is an adventure
How motorcycle travel has changed over the last ten years and 37 states for me

A Beagle Named Dixie

"Lightning hit that oak tree we've been looking at for years.  And oh I know this summer we'll miss the shade.  We just made it through the coldest winter we ever knew, and our old hound Dixie passed away."
From Lucky Man by Mark Chestnutt

Dixie was probably the sweetest dog I ever had.  She was an amazing dog in spite of herself.  Dixie was the dog that EVERYONE loved.  Even people who did not like dogs liked Dixie.  When I would joke that I had too many dogs and needed to get rid of some of them, there were an infinite number of people who instantly said they would take Dixie.

I know absolutely nothing about her young life.  With the exception of brief spurts, Dixie was timid.  Her time in the "wild" led her to know what to do with wild small animals, living or dead.  The other dogs only saw chipmunks, squirrels, crayfish, whatever as toys, Dixie would play with them first, then proceed to treat them as snacks.

I wasn't really looking for a dog when I saw Dixie, but maybe I was;  I already had three beagles.  I was driving down a street near my house when I saw a small beagle run out in front of me.  I looked at it in the rear view mirror and watched the school bus behind me nearly hit it.  I couldn't let it continue to run down the street so I turned around and went back and got her.  She was a little afraid of me, but came to me in short order.  She was very grubby so I put her in the bed of my truck and went back home.  En route, she tried to jump out.  I stepped on the brake to stop her.
Once back at home, I wasn't sure I was going to keep her, so I put her in the small garage and ran the errands that I was originally out for.  When I got home, I peeked in on her and she had made a perfect little beagle bed out of a pile of rope sitting on top of a straw bale I had.  She was adorable and she had a new home.

She got along great with the other dogs and obviously had some house training.  There might have been a few accidents, but they were rare.  Given her small stature, I thought she was a puppy.  When the vet told me she was likely four, I thought he meant months.  I was shocked when he said years.

Dixie continued to fit in with the beagle clan.  While I have had dogs that I could understand why someone got rid of, I could never understand how someone could have gotten rid of Dixie, she was that sweet.  She had an odd way of sitting where her back legs would almost cross dantily.

As Dixie got older, she went from the diminutive "puppy" that I thought she was to a small dog and then to a fat dog.  No matter what I fed her, she put on weight.  She didn't like exercise, but was an enormous dog for how little she ate.  The vet diagnosed her with a thyroid problem and she was put on Solixine for most of her adult life.  This did allow her to eat more normally and loose weight, but she still enjoyed her nap time, especially on the couch.
Much later in life, she started to have seizures.  Once again the miracle of modern veterinary medicine came to the rescue and for a few cents a day, the seizures stopped permanently.  One side effect of this medicine was that it could make a dog lethargic.  No difference was noticed.
As with just about any dog, she did occasionally get out, but it always seemed to be by accident, never an intentional leaving of the fenced area.  I was always worried she would be kept by whoever found her when she did get out.

She was a joy to walk and almost never tugged on the leash, staying just a few steps behind.  As with all older dogs, the walks got shorter and shorter as she aged.  She acted old long before her time, seeing life with me as some sort of extended retirement.
For the last several years of her life, she could not handle stairs.  She could go up them just fine, but going down stairs almost always resulted in a couple steps followed by a great tumble the rest of the way.  It was a miracle she was never hurt.  For many years, she would have to be carried down the deck stairs to do her business.
Then she would got back up the stairs to the back door and bark, she deserved to be let back in.
The steep stairs inside were always watched with one eye in case she tried to come down on her own.

Because she acted old, her aging wasn't very noticeable, but there were changes.  She was always flight over fight so she had to be fed alone or she would loose her food.  She never had accidents in the house, but required more attention.  She began to absolutely hate the cold.

Eventually she got to the point where I just seemed to know the joy she brought the world was near and end.  I was at a late day mandatory work function.  As I sat there listening to the speakers, I just knew she had died.  There was no doubt in my mind.
I was right.
I still miss Dixie. She died nearly the same time as Sammy which made it extra hard.  Dixie was one of the few dogs Sammy still liked.  Sammy and Dixie were buried together and a paw paw tree was planted over them.

"I'm living the life of a Lucky Man.  Counting my blessings, holding your..." paw.

A Beagle named Lucky

How does the joke go?
A man sees an acquaintance with his dog.  The dog has bandages, is missing an eye, is limping, etc.
The man asks the owner what happened and the owner relates a few amazing tales of one-in-a-million shots resulting the dog's injuries.  The questioner is astonished and asks the dogs name.
"Lucky." the owner responds.

My dog Lucky was a case of life imitating art - or at least that joke.

Lucky was not a very pretty dog.  This is almost assuredly at least partially the result of a not very friendly beginning of life.
I don't know very much about the early part of his life, but he was found near where I worked (before I worked there).  Our department secretary ended up taking him home where he became the family dog, or more particularly her son's dog.
What we know about his early life can be read in his appearance.  His head was misproportioned as a result of injuries while young.  He had an enormous overbite and oddly shaped eyes.  Couple with this he had old-dog fat all his life, had coarse gnarly fur, walked with an odd gait and was never able to walk in a straight line.  The overbite was his striking feature.  It prevented him from eating normally and in order to drink he had to put is upper jaw on the rim of the bowl as he drank from the bowl.
A fish doesn't see the water he swims in so Lucky likely just saw himself as any other dog might.

He was Cheryl's family dog for a long time.  When I bought the first house after moving to Ohio, I needed a refrigerator.  Cheryl said they had one to offer for free.  I found out around the time I went to get it that they were getting rid of it due to the sale of the house as a result of an impending divorce.
When I went to get the fridge, I had Mandy and Sammy in the truck with me.  Apparently after leaving with the appliance, they had discussions around my taking of their beagle.  Due to the divorce and subsequent split and move, Lucky needed a new home.
We got a refrigerator and it came with a dog.

After a short visit to see how the three dogs would get along, Lucky came to live at the new house in early February.  Lucky wasn't so sure what to make of the change.  He had never lived with other dogs and due to the confusion, didn't want to be left alone.
Within a day or so of getting Lucky, I had an unwanted day off when torrential rain came along with melting snow and flooded the basement severely.  This is before several (successful) efforts were taken to mitigate the flood-prone basement.
The house was a Victorian with eight foot windows in the front.  Several of the windows weren't in prime condition and a couple panes were cracked.  On this flood day, as I went out to get the mail, I heard glass breaking a turned around to see Lucky trying to get to me through the pane that had gone from cracked to broken as a result of his efforts.  I hurried back inside to prevent him from cutting himself on the broken glass.
Plugged gutters are a pet peeve of mine and later that same day, I opened a second story window to get on the kitchen roof and unplug the lower gutters there.  After hearing a noise, I turned around to see Lucky standing unsteadily on the roof looking at me.
Remember the joke about the dog named Lucky?

Once the initial shock of his new life wore off, Lucky became of the pack.  Three dogs, soon to be four.
He was not a young dog and accepted this new living situation, but never really embracing it or understanding it.  As such, he developed an aloof nature I've rarely seen in other dogs.  This extended to most of his dog's life.
At this point in life, I was doing a lot of camping for recreation.  Lucky took to the tent well, but his aloof nature went along with him.  While camping at Old Man's Cave in Eastern Ohio, I recall one time when there was a group of us hiking while towing the dogs along on leashes.  Lucky, seeing no reason to stop happily walked along the trail and while merrily pooping along.  "Luckily" I saw this and was able to clean the material off the trail so as not to spoil any one else's hike.

His aloof nature meant that he was never my favorite dog, but he was a wonderful dog at the same time.  Never flashy, but always there.  He didn't chase and attack squirrels, didn't really like toys and was never very needy.
His one passion was licking his front feet.  Something he did a lot, and nothing could really stop it.

As he got older, he didn't exactly age gracefully.  His crooked walk got worse and his breath and eating would at times be odd.  Knowing something was going wrong, he went to the vet where a biopsy confirmed he had cancer in his head, spreading to his jaw.
He had to have his teeth removed, but this never really bothered him.  His jaw was so odd anyway, the teeth were merely grotesque decoration.  For a long time he showed no evidence of discomfort, so I let him be a dog.
Predictably, things eventually took a turn for the worse.  Toward the end, he went blind.  I think to Lucky, this was just another event in his topsy life.  He figured out that if he bumped into something but could put his head on it, it must be a step so he should walk up it.  He was actually able to navigate well with this assumption, but this resulted in his climbing on lots of stuff and resulting in much confusion.  Stacks of magazine continually knocked over, potted plants tipped with dirt all over.
Feeding became harder.  With his misshapen head, he needed daily help to "see" his food and get it out of his bowl.  This was more than just setting him in front of it to eat.
As he continued to age and deteriorate, he began regularly to relieve himself indoors.  I'm amazed that even healthy dogs can hold it as long as we sometimes ask them to so daily clean-up was part of having Lucky.  Daily moppings resulted in a very clean kitchen floor (at least parts of it).

I thought Lucky was actually improving at one point only to realize he had stopped even getting out of his bed anymore.  Lucky had his own special bed, separate from the other dogs.  This was his one constant in life.
I knew it was time.

As I drove him to the vet, I felt as bad as I've ever felt.  He is the only dog I've had to have put down.  I felt like I was signing a death warrant and almost turned around, but it was time - if not past it.  He was not comfortable, and not really even a dog anymore; not really living as a dog should.
When it was over, I was beside myself with what I had done.  I left quickly without saying anything or even paying the vet.  As hard as it was, intellectually I know it was the right thing to do.
Lucky was buried in the back yard in his special red, white and black blanket.  A flowering crab apple tree was planted above him.  Every spring, the tree flowered abundantly.  Showing his aloof nature, the tree which was supposed to never bear fruit annually delivered a huge crop of crab apples; showing the tree had absorbed Lucky, it never grew strait, but constantly crooked.

Lucky's life started out pretty hard.  He had a great life with Cheryl, and retired with me.
After he died, I received very nice cards from Cheryl and her ex-husband.  I still have those cards today.  The vet also sent me a copy of Rainbow Bridge - a poem for anyone who has lost a furry friend.

The Rainbow Bridge
 

There is a bridge connecting heaven and Earth. It is called The
Rainbow Bridge because of its many colors. Just this side of The
Rainbow Bridge there is a land of meadows, hills and valleys
with lush green grass.

 When a beloved pet dies, it goes to this place.  There is always
food and water and warm spring weather.  The old and frail
animals are young again.  Those who are maimed are made
whole again.  They play all day with each other.

There is only one thing missing.  They are not with their special
person who loved them on earth.  So each day they run and play
until the day comes when one of them suddenly stops playing and
looks up!  The nose twitches! The ears are up! The eyes are staring!
And this one suddenly runs from the group.

You have been seen, and when you and your special friend meet, you
take him or her in your arms and embrace. Your face is covered with
  kisses, and you look once more into the eyes of your  trusting pet.

 Then you both cross over The Rainbow Bridge together, never again
to be separated.