Timber

When my Dad was a teenager, he went on a 'gypsy tour' with a group organized by the local YMCA. On an old school bus, they toured through the west, stopping at national parks and any other, majestic wonders. Whenever available, Dad would buy a postcard, date it, and send it to himself. I loved looking through all these postcards when I was a kid, trying to imagine those far away places. One of my favorite cards was from Oregon. It was a photo of a log truck, with one log loaded on it. One log that filled the whole truck bed. I would be appalled to actually see that now.