Torque Converter

When I'm out of the woods, I miss being in the woods. Alongside all the critters and the fallen limbs and the snow in winter and the swelter in summer. Up and down the deer trails that intersect older logging trails. That's my home site, chimney is the only remnants of the former tenants. Sharecroppers, hoping for a wish and a dream, someway making a dollar while baling a bunch of hay. Most of my wooded edge notions rest where I traveled the most, most impressionable to me in the VA. To see the loggers roll those pine logs away from the woods and to the staging area, to watch them scramble to decimate acres of planted pines in such systematic form is impressive and daunting. Gone, the cash crop moved into the mills throughout the rural countryside, the big, fat saws chopping it down to bite sizes for all industries. Dillwyn, Drakes Branch, West Point, the towns that rest on the wood's edge. Piles and piles of bark and limbs. The staging areas become proving grounds for the grinders who have endurance.

I came across an original torque converter (on loan from one of the realest in the game), a log cincher. When the final saw cut can see its way through, put on that hook and wrench on the handle. Bring it to the proving ground with all the scent of the forest floor still cloaked across it. Outside of Rough Creek, VA, I was menaced by shadow of an official D.E. wood pile, ready for milling.