Physician, writer, independent thinker, careful listener
Albeit reluctantly. You understand that a 2023 Ford Transit Trail, a class B campervan RV, has limited credibility. Even among quantum physicists. And the physicists’ cats. But that’s an inside joke that’s not trying to get out. My reluctance stems from another paradox – that if one spreads the word that a remote and pristine … More Milton Recommends
Hey! Nice day, yeah? We class B RVs are keen on blue skies and crisp fall air. We put on airs. Except Sprinter Vans, they’ve got airs built in so they can’t put them on or take them off. Mercedes. Oooh la la. I’m a blue collar Ford, except I have an Ecoboost 350 engine … More Milton gets ferried
Hot hot hot hot hot hot hot. Hey, something is going on. And I don’t mean in Idaho or Alaska. Or DC. Well, maybe DC. Who, me? We’ve not met? Excuse me. I’m Milton, the campervan. Class B. More precisely, a 2023 Ford Transit Trail now upfitted and … well, is it upfit or upfitted? … More Milton’s too dang hot!
Of course I have not forgotten that a year encompasses just 52 weeks. But a gap year is more flexible than what we admire as the legal, orthodox, and obdurate movement of the earth around the sun. I retired in January 2024. For the umpteenth time, from the practice of clinical genetics (yes, that’s a … More Gap Year, Week 76
It’s Memorial Day. Workers are cutting grass in our neighborhood. The ice cream store is busy; butter-pecan drips down the side of your cone until expertly tongued. Folks stroll with babies. Two Marines in their dress blues stand beside a gravestone and clink their long-necked beer bottles. A toast is offered, and the guest of … More Perhaps honor is enough
In January last year, now 16 months ago, I decided to retire from medicine and start another adventure – a full commitment to writing. Such excessive confidence, despite the many warning signs! I’d be better off with a dusting of ADHD, anything to distract mee from doggedly pushing forward to my doom. Now I am … More The last days of leisure
The onshore wind they call a stiff breeze. Here on the Gulf Coast, this comes in from the south and seems undiminished among the dunes where we are hunkered down for a couple of days. Certainly is different than Kamloops, but we love both. How is it that my pronouns have shifted from the singular … More Milton hits the beach
Well, it had to happen sooner or later. ICE is coming for me. OK OK OK. OK already! Sure, I’m a campervan, a small but muscular Class B RV, a Ford. And Ford says that my model has been “Assembled in the U.S.A. with domestic and foreign parts.” My guess is that deep-state logic dictates … More Milton enjoys his paranoia
Well, you could call it a bat cave, or a man cave, but seeing that I’m not a mammal, just a Transit Trail campervan, the cave demands a more appropriate name. Trail Cave. I like it. My place is dry and cozy, even though it’s not hollowed out of a hillside or a mountain. Good … More Milton enjoys his Trail Cave
Last week, no bueno. Sitting in that dealership back lot, all lonely, and this International Scout was droning on about the border and the arroyos in Presidio County. Back in the day. He had been through 12 sets of tires. Twelve? And he was telling me about every flat. But who am I to complain, … More Welcome home, Milton! And happy birthday!
Scott D. McLean, MD 