Book Review - Fearless, by Eric Blehm

I can honestly say that this is a book I will remember for the rest of my life. I happened across it while looking for an interesting ebook to borrow and read from my local library on-line. After I started on it, it was a struggle to even put the Kindle down!

It’s about a Navy Seal who was a member of Team Six before that team killed Usama Bin Ladin in 2011. It’s not a typical Seal or Green Beret book, of which many are very good. It's a true full biography of the life and times of Adam Brown. Born in Arkansas in 1974, Adam overcame seemingly impossible obstacles to rise to true greatness.

And, when I say true, I mean true. There is no embellishment, enhancement or distortion of the facts to make it an “interesting” read. There are far too many actual witnesses to events. The author, Blehm, actually interviewed many dozens of family, friends, neighbors, superiors and teammates. He quotes the transcripts of statements given by witnesses. Thoroughly researched and documented, the author was relentless in getting a complete and accurate story.

This biography will bring out all the emotions: happiness, sadness, fear, disgust, anger, surprise, jubilation and yes, tears. And I did say anger. You will be angry with Adam. You will be inspired by Adam. And you will feel the deepest respect for Adam. I just don’t want to spoil the read by saying too much.

I read it for free from my library and I saw that you can get it as an eBook for a couple bucks or paperback for about $9 on Amazon. Also available as an audiobook. Haven’t checked other sources. It’s close to 400 pages and there are no negative reviews.

This book will move and inspire you, I promise. Like I said, I’d like to say more, but don’t want to spoil it! You will have a hard time putting it down. If you decide to read it, I would refrain from reading reviews and be prepared for an amazing true story of a real modern day hero and the surprises that will come. One of the finest books I have ever read. Available as an audiobook for all you road drivers out there! Comments are certainly welcome, but please don't give out too many details for those considering reading it. I went into it without knowing the outcome and the twists and turns of his life through the book were so extraordinary!

Links to other of my book reviews:

Lone Survivor Book Review

Book Review - Every Day a Holiday, Every Meal a Feast

Every Day a Holiday, Every Meal a Feast - Free Chapter!

Aunt Lorraine and her "Safety Sentinel" Speedo

My Aunt Lorraine was one of my favorite aunts, but she was a pretty scary driver.

Growing up in Milwaukee’s inner core, dad was the only driver in our house until after we moved to the northwest side in 1964. I didn’t even ride in a school bus before then so my exposure to riding with other drivers was very limited. Dad was a skillful driver, took pride in driving and he told me once that his long time dream was to drive race cars.

His older sister, Aunt Lorraine was a whole different matter. She was 4 years older than my father and basically raised all the younger siblings after their mother died when dad was only 14 years old.

In the early 1960's, I remember riding a few times in her big Oldsmobile. She scared the hell out of me, seeming not to be paying attention to where she was going. She could not hold the throttle steady, always either on the gas pedal or off of it, especially if she was talking, which was most of the time! She had what they called a Safety Sentinel on her dashboard speedometer. It had a little button to adjust the speed setting you wanted, say 65mph. As the indicator approached 65 the indicator bar would turn yellow and then red when you hit that speed and an irritatingly loud buzzer would sound off. So she would be on the gas until the alarm sounded and then off the gas coasting until she realized how slow she was going. Then hit the gas pedal and repeat the cycle again. It drove me nuts as it seemed she wasn't paying attention. I was always so happy to get out of her car.

I later found out that her driving would catch the attention of the police as well, resulting in being sometimes pulled over. She almost always got a break however, talking her way out of a ticket with just a warning to be more careful.

Later in the mid 60's she bought a brand new Checker Marathon car that was specially built by the Checker Cab company. I think it was built in Michigan and they were for sale to the general public. It had a Chevrolet motor and had enormous back seat leg room due to the special configuration. Throughout the years, it seemed she always had a new dent or scratches on her vehicles and she had a couple crashes I remember hearing about as I got older. 

She was fun to be around and always had good stories to tell, but after the first few rides, I always tried to avoid having to go anywhere with her driving. After we moved to the suburb in 1964, mom grew increasingly frustrated being without transportation. She always had a driver license but never drove and dad was against it. In a brilliant move, mom decided to try and get Aunt Lorraine involved to help out. She expressed her frustration and dad’s resistance to his sister and one day she came over to the house. Mom got in Aunt Lorraine’s car and they went out shopping. I came home from school to find a 1962 Plymouth Valiant in the driveway that she bought for $300. Aunt Lorraine stayed until after dad came home from working second shift that night, knowing there was going to be a confrontation.

She kind of raised dad into adulthood and he reluctantly backed down against the both of them. It all worked out though as he found out a second driver in the house relieved him of a lot of running around. It also forced him to finally get car insurance as he always figured he didn’t need it. That would have quickly become an issue for me because I was nearing 16 years old and dreaming of getting a driver license and driving a car! So, very grateful to dear Aunt Lorraine for her help!

Another fun old family story: I believe it was shortly after Aunt Lorraine bought her new Checker Marathon car that was for sale to the public. She came over to our house for a family get-together one week-end in Milwaukee. My dad's youngest sibling, Uncle Jim and his family were also there. Dad and his brother were Kennedy democrats and their older sister, Aunt Lorraine, was a staunch republican. The election was coming up between Lyndon Johnson and Barry Goldwater in 1964. The two brothers got together and left the house. I went out in the driveway and discovered them bent over and chuckling while placing a Johnson bumper sticker on the rear bumper of Aunt Lorraine's new car in the driveway. My dad looked up and saw me, saying "Don't you say anything!", while giving me the look. That sealed my lips. I turned around and went back in. She never noticed it leaving to drive back to Oconto and I never heard whether she figured out who did it after she eventually found it! Had she discovered what they did that same day, she probably would have went after the both of them with a broom!

Link to My Book - My Truck Driving Life

My (One Week) Project Car

In 1969, after blowing reverse gear in the transmission and junking the first car I bought, I was in the same predicament as before. I had a motorcycle for transportation, but when needing a car due to weather, I had to borrow one of my parents' cars. And, I knew winter in Wisconsin was coming pretty quickly. I had a part time job after school at a Clark gas station, so riding the school bus was not going to enable me to get to work on time.

 

Within a month or two a guy at work told me he knew somebody with a car (1953 Dodge) that was free to take away. Well, the words car and free rang in my ears as I perked right up. I asked him if it ran and he said yes, all it needed was the brakes fixed. So we went over to his house to take a look. It was a kind of ugly brown and kind of beat up but the body was in OK shape. I didn’t care what it looked like and I said if it runs, I’ll take it. He said “OK it’s yours for a dollar to make it a legal sale” and asked how I was going to get it home. I replied that I’ll drive it and get it there and he signed off on the title while I gave him a dollar. I also didn’t tell him I was only 16 and underage to legally buy a car.

After getting a ride back to his house, I got the keys and jumped in. It had a straight 6 motor and 3 on the tree manual transmission. It started up and I drove it slowly home and when having to stop would leave it in gear and turn the engine off. The hand parking brake didn’t work or I would have tried using that. It’s funny how hearing the word “free” kind of caused me to neglect looking very carefully at the car. I noticed as I was poking along Silver Spring Dr. at a few miles per hour a blue haze behind me from burning oil coming through the tail pipe. Getting back home I parked it in the driveway and started to look the car over a bit more, finding two tires nearly bald. Opening the hood there was smoke and fumes caused from oil getting on the exhaust manifold. Looking underneath there were some wet spots on the motor from oil leaks already dripping on the asphalt. Not exactly a chick magnet. I had to keep telling myself “it was free”.

Well, then dad gets home from work. “What’s that car sitting out there?", he asked. I told him and said I got it for free, all it needs is the brakes fixed. He asked “How did you get it here with no brakes?” I told him how. My dad could be a man of few words, especially with me. I remember these, “Get that thing out of the driveway!". He was not happy and I went out and parked it on the street in front of the house.

So, there it sat for about a week. I imagine dad went out and looked the car over after I went to work, but he didn’t say anything or tell me. I was still young and knew nothing about fixing cars. Although I was reading every Hot Rod and Car & Driver magazine I could get my hands on, I had no idea of brake systems and how they work. As I started to realize that I may have made a foolish decision, I kept a low profile around the house, made myself scarce and stayed quiet.

The following Saturday, my dad came in and asked “What are you going to do with that car?” I told him I wasn’t quite sure and he said “Don’t you think that the reason the car was free was because it isn’t worth fixing?” I said “Yes, I suppose so.” He then said “Then get the car title and start heading down to the junkyard and I’ll come pick you up". And, that was the second trip for me to Larry’s junkyard in Butler, with many more to come! I wasn't having very good luck buying cars.

A day or two later mom came up to me and said she was going to stop driving for the time being. She was pregnant with her last child, my sister Karin, and was content to just stay home and didn’t have a need to go anywhere. Although, knowing mom, I knew she was sacrificing her freedom for my benefit. So, I took over the 1957 Chrysler New Yorker after that and my car shopping was over for a while. And I was a happy guy! That car had a 392 hemi motor and could easily bury the 120 mph speedometer needle!

My Amazon Author Link

More of my classic car stories:

Classic Car Stories:1970 Pontiac GTO - Dick Hands me the Keys!
Classic Car Stories: My Buddy's 1968 Plymouth GTX
Classic Car Stories: My Hemi Chrysler
Classic Car Stories: My 1965 Buick GS400
Classic Car Stories: Mopar Man to Chevrolet
Classic Car Stories: My Second Corvette
Classic Car Stories: My First Corvette
Classic Car Stories: My 1993 Camaro Z28
Classic car Stories: My Three Camaros - One Good, One Bad and One Great!
Classic Car Stories: Mom's 1961 Plymouth Valiant

Old Car Stories and Life Lessons

I obtained my driver’s license when I turned 16 years of age near the end of 1968. Being in my junior year of high school, I had a motorcycle for transportation but had to borrow one of the two family cars when needed due to weather. My parents had two cars, one a 1957 Chrysler New Yorker that I ended up with later. I usually had access to one or the other but I longed to have my own vehicle.

Not long after getting a job at a Clark station two weeks before my senior year of high school in 1969, my boss, Chuck Oleson, tipped me off to info from one of his very elderly regular customers. He told him that he had decided to quit driving and sell his car. He lived only a couple blocks north of the station on Hopkins and I asked Chuck for a referral to go see the car. Chuck called him and I went over to his house. There sat in the driveway a “really clean” 1955 Plymouth Savoy 4-door sedan with absolutely no rust on it, spotless interior with plastic covers on the bench seats which were like new! Under the hood was a straight 6 cylinder motor and a three-on-the-tree manual transmission (Interior picture in the post is that of an automatic). I’m not certain, but I think the mileage on the vehicle was not much more than 50,000. I asked what he wanted for it and he said $50 if I promised to take care of it! I had $50 and the deal was made (with my fingers crossed). I didn't even ask my parents before bringing the title home because I was too young to own and register it. I begged my dad to come over there and see it. After driving over there, he agreed it was a good deal, and signing off for it, we took it home.

Well, being stupid young me, I’m glad I never saw him again, having to explain what happened shortly after. I bought the car and only had it for a few days. I drove it to Chuck’s station to display my great deal to the guys. Being 16 years old, I decided to show off and do a burn-out by flooring the gas and popping the clutch. Well, all that straight 6 motor would do was squeak the tires. That wasn’t good enough for me, so I put it in reverse, figuring the weight transfer would lighten the load on the back tires, enabling a smoky backward burn out (Randy style).

I blew reverse gear in the transmission!

With pieces of the shattered gear in the transmission I could still drive it in the forward gears but the chucks of metal getting mixed up in the oil would cause a crazy loud bashing as the car was moving forward. I actually drove the car around for about a month with no reverse and wondering when the thing was going to seize up on me. At that time I was young and had no idea of how to fix cars. It wasn't until the following year that a buddy of mine started showing me how to fix/replace the stuff I blew up on my cars.

I gave my dad some bullshit story about it “just coming apart” when I was backing up. I’m sure he knew what I had done but took mercy on me. He told me it was not worth fixing and followed me to Larry’s junkyard, one of three vehicles that ended up in their final resting place. Later on I got to know Larry, the junkyard guy, pretty well as I had to buy lots of parts from him to fix future cars. But, that's another story.

Life’s lessons!

Other of my car story posts:
Classic Car Stories:1970 Pontiac GTO - Dick Hands me the Keys!
Classic Car Stories: My Buddy's 1968 Plymouth GTX
Classic Car Stories: My Hemi Chrysler
Classic Car Stories: My 1965 Buick GS400
Classic Car Stories: Mopar Man to Chevrolet
Classic Car Stories: My Second Corvette
Classic Car Stories: My First Corvette
Classic Car Stories: My 1993 Camaro Z28
Classic car Stories: My Three Camaros - One Good, One Bad and One Great!
Classic Car Stories: Mom's 1961 Plymouth Valiant

My Amazon Author Link

Driving Miss Daisy? No, it's Mrs.Pritzker

Every time I heard or read the name Pritzker for the last couple of years, it seemed so familiar. That name is often in the news as the current governor in our neighboring state of Illinois is JB Pritzker. Now, the governor and I are on very opposite sides of the political spectrum, as you would correctly assume. But his name seemed so familiar, like I heard it before. The name is distinctive. But why? It’s been bugging me for a long time.

I was thinking last week about my late father. He retired in 1979 after 30 years at Chrysler/AMC and he and mom moved to Florida with my three youngest siblings. During the 1980’s mom would work part time for a firm that provided services for the elderly. I remember my dad telling me that he would occasionally drive a woman around on errands and appointments when she needed him. On the couple occasions he talked to me about it, he would always refer to her by name, Mrs. "So-and-So". He had also mentioned she was a wealthy widow from Chicago and said the family was in the hotel business. Suddenly, it clicked, Chicago? Illinois? Distinctive name? Wealthy family? Could she have been a Pritzker? Last week, I even asked my younger siblings if they remembered the name of the woman that dad used to drive around. They all said no.

That made me even more curious and led me to look up the Pritzker family. Well, I’ll be! I discovered a Rhoda Pritzker that had lived 10 miles from my parents home. She had married Jack Nicholas Pritzker, who was a great uncle to the current Illinois governor JB Pritzker. The family indeed built the Hyatt hotel chain and family members still have a large holding in the company. Jack and Rhoda bought the home on Casey Key in Florida in 1970. Her husband died in 1979, the year my parents moved To Sarasota.

So, my dad had his little “Driving Miss Daisy” job helping a Pritzker widow. He would drive over to her house when she called. She also wanted her car “exercised” as she didn’t drive. So dad would get her big station wagon out of the garage and off they would go. Mystery solved!

Rhoda Pritzker died in Casey Key in 2007 at the age of 93. Her funeral was held in Chicago. The latest sale of her old house was in 2016 for $1.75 million.

My Amazon Author Link

Automotive Backup Cameras - Early Aggravation to Tolerance

2022 Ford Escape

I guess this post certainly shows my age (72). It’s been getting close to ten years now since I first started driving a car with a rear view camera.

2016 Nissan Altima

I bought a slightly used 2016 Nissan Altima in early 2017. As standard equipment it featured a backup camera with a 5 inch display in the dash. Those early units were a far cry from what they have in today’s new vehicles. The Feds began mandating rearview cameras in all new automobiles starting in 2018. I can’t remember the Altima having any type of audio alarm or sensor warning if you got too close to other objects or pedestrians. In fact, before long I was thoroughly fed up with it and never used it. At night, trying to back down a dark driveway, the view from the camera was useless and there was not enough illumination from the camera to see more than a couple feet behind the vehicle. And the glare from the interior screen impaired my ability to visually see out the windows or mirrors leading to possibly very unsafe consequences. I actually remember having to roll down the windows in order to use my mirrors and cut the reflective glare. I couldn’t find a way to dim the screen or shut the damn thing off. The only thing I found useful was in backing to an object in daylight hours, such as up to a trailer or parking. You could see with confidence how close you were. Otherwise, I completely ignored the thing until it got me angry with the night time issues.

So, on to 2019 when we bought a new Ford Escape SE. We didn’t have all the bells and whistles on it and it came with an eight inch LCD screen. The rearview camera was a big improvement especially at night. I didn’t notice any problems seeing out the windows after dark with the camera on. Still without sensors for audio warning, I seldom used it except in rare parallel parking scenarios.

In 2023, we traded for an unsold new 2022 Escape that the dealer made us a great deal on. This one featured many more options, including a large eight inch high definition display for infotainment and backup camera viewing. Included with the camera is cross traffic audio alert to warn of pedestrians and cars crossing as your backing, in addition to a fixed object warning. I haven’t really noticed any issues seeing out the windows at night with the camera on. I must say it’s a vast difference from what I had in 2017!

We've had this car for about two years now. But, thinking about it, I still hardly use the camera! After 56 years of driving I just can’t make myself use that camera to back out of a parking space or back down a driveway. Other than quick glances at the screen, I use my mirrors and keep my head on a swivel while backing. Previously, driving trucks for 37 years, using my mirrors is too instinctive. Looking forward at the center of the dash while backing is just so unnatural. So, I guess, that’s the way it’s going to be until I’m gone. I do appreciate hearing the audio warnings of cross traffic however. It does have a reassuring effect. It’s such a different world these days since I first got my driver’s license in 1968.

Happy Easter!

My Amazon Author Link

My Mustang Boots

In 1964, I was 12 years old when Ford introduced the all new Mustang. They were certainly great looking cars and the manufacturer had one of the most successful vehicle launches in their history. They sold more than one million of them in the first two years of production. Soon all the other car companies were coming out with the “long hood, short deck” copy of the pony car.

A couple of years later, being about 14 or 15, I was in a Father and Sons shoe store in Milwaukee. I think it was around Fond Du Lac and Hampton Ave. I don’t know what kind of shoes I originally went in for, but as I walked down an aisle, I came across a display that had some boot/shoes called the Mustang. As soon as I saw them, I had to get myself a pair of those babies, one way or another! My jaw dropped as I inspected a pair, impressed with the really cool Mustang logo, pointed toes, and inch and a half heels. There was a vertical zipper on the inside ankle to easily get them on and off. I found a pair that fit and wasn’t leaving without, thankfully I had enough money on me to buy them. Only after I left the store, while on the way home, did I start to think about what my parents might have to say about this purchase!

I don’t remember them giving me much grief about it. I used my own money that I had earned, so I wasn't too worried they would force me to take them back. My plan was to keep my new Mustang Boots forever, so the next day I went and bought some metal cleats to nail on the heels to protect them from wear. It was the weekend and after hammering the cleats on the heels, I was looking forward to school on Monday.

Monday morning came and I was proudly clicky-clacking my way down the hall at school and started walking around a corner. I had never worn shoes with cleats before and failed to consider that those metal cleats could be slippery on the linoleum floors. As I came around the corner I slipped and almost fell on my ass in front of a couple girls. Quite an embarrassing moment! That surely took some spring out of my step as I had to think about how I walked the rest of the day. The following morning as I was coming down the hall again, a teacher came out of a classroom stopping me! He informed me that cleats were not allowed in school and I was to remove them after I got home, or else! If I came back with them on, I would be sent home. So, I went home and clawed them off, and wore the soles off before eventually having to toss them, but I sure loved those shoes!

My Amazon Author Link

 

"I Wanna Farm"

This grandfather (Gary) is married to my cousin, Pat. And Patricia is my Aunt Lillian's daughter. Great story about great people!

A few more really good Characters from Bonduel, Wisconsin.

A short story of a
good man and his grandson.

I had a photoshoot tonight.

The kid was such a good kid.

Like, really good kid. Something about him I adored.

He was humble.

Kind.

Wholesome.

Polite.

He was just such a good kid.

Me- what are your plans after school?

Him- I wanna farm. I wanna work on my grandpa’s farm.

I don’t know why but it felt like a burst of fresh air when he said that.

I’m not a farmer. I wasn’t raised on a farm.

But it had a lot of meaning. Like he’s the type of human people are talking about when they say “our hope for our future”

That is him. Our hope.

Sounds dramatic since I just met him. But his words were heavy.

We don’t hear “I wanna farm”

His soul was beautiful.

It all made sense when I found out who his grandpa was.

When I moved to Bonduel I had a less than reliable car.

I didn’t have much money. Ok. No money.

I definitely didn’t have money for car repairs

I needed a lot of repairs.

I trusted a local mechanic that the police chief told me to go to.

A different police chief at the time. Not my husband. I didn’t know him yet.

I brought my vehicle to the shop.

He fixed it.

I went to pay

He told me it had already been paid for.

The mechanic wouldn’t budge.

“It’s paid for. No balance is due”

His eyes were soft but his tone was strong.

The parts needed for the repair I knew weren’t cheap.

But he wouldn’t budge

“No payment due”

I brought my car back for other issues.

My bill was always very small.

He and his wife were always so kind to me and my two kids.

I didn’t know anyone in town. Let alone trust a mechanic.

He either barely charged me. Didn’t charge me. Or Offered small payments if need be.

I think about them often.

I think about many people that helped me along the way.

I believe that’s important. Keeps you grounded.

Now let’s get back to this photoshoot and why this has anything to do with what I’m taking about.

We went to my client’s grandpa’s house.

His grandpa is the mechanic.

The mechanic that helped me at my absolute worse times.

It all made sense.

This boy.

This boy has the same heart as his grandpa.

When I found out who his grandpa was I explained to my client, the mother of this good kid, the daughter of this good man in the story, I wanted to pay it forward for what her father has done for me.

She insisted on paying.

Kind eyes. Strong tone like her father.

We settled on an amount.

Bonduel is filled with good.

Our world is.

Find it.

Raise them to be the good.

This family are a few good ones.

“I wanna farm”

My favorite thing I’ve heard from a young kid.

We have coffee tomorrow.

We open at 6am.

The Mill Coffee Lounge

Bonduel, Wisconsin