He enjoyed the task.

Or perhaps it was the company. Having worked in that crowded far western state, I think he's having a little trouble adjusting to the idea that you might work for weeks in this outfit without seeing or speaking to a co-worker.

Me, I enjoyed the company too, but it was still a piddling, nuisance chore. Made much, much easier with the use of his tools, and his penchant for not letting anyone else (including me) actually use his tools. A chore I am happy to check off my list for this week.

Still took over four hours.

When we got home, the wife opened the door for the heeler sisters, who had almost no fun at all during the afternoon and early evening. As I grabbed gear from the cab, I shouted up to the porch, and asked her what she thought.

She glanced down at the thirsty heelers dashing past her legs, and then at me.

"Of what?"

I didn't answer.

Silence.

And then, finally, she noticed.

"It looks like a game warden's truck.", she declared.

It wasn't a compliment.

But yes, after almost three decades of functioning just fine without one, I now have a truck with a headache rack. An expected inevitability, since the new boss once rolled his rig not six miles from here, and survived solely because of the roll bar it had.

He knows their value.

It's still ugly.