I went to school out in Colorado one summer and Oliver came along of course. Now trying to find an apartment in Boulder, Colorado just for two and a half months at anything close to an affordable price was virtually impossible, so I acquired an old ambulance from a company that I worked for and I outfitted it as a camper.
It had electricity in the back for TV and a coffee maker, or at least it did until I tried to use them both at once and blew up the inverter...thank God that it also came with a fire extinguisher. I put in a Coleman gas stove for cooking and a cooler for cold drinks and off we went. Notice that it still has all the markings except the light bar and the words "Ambulance". By law it couldn't have those, but as I was a paramedic myself and had a medical kit on board, I could keep the Star of Life symbols on it. I originally got the truck in the middle of winter and the decal-stripper spray was useless in cold weather but by the time warm weather came, I'd realized that the paint scheme was great for keeping me from getting pulled over for speeding, HOV lane violations and other little things, plus I didn't have the money to repaint it decently so I kept it as it was.It was a solid truck and fast courtesy of a 460 V-8, but the gas mileage was predictably horrible. Still it was cheaper than an apartment or a motel for the summer and it was nice to be able to just roam around Colorado over every three-day school week-end. And Oliver adapted fine. He rode shotgun in the passenger seat or napped on the rear bench which I'd turned into a cot.
When I got out to Colorado, Oliver stayed in the truck while I was in class and then we went hiking or exploring for the rest of the day before bedding down somewhere up in the mountains just above Boulder. Of course this was not without it's moments. Frequently people went to the office at school and reported this "poor dog trapped in a hot van". The first time this happened, campus police came and got me out of class. I was able to demonstrate that due to the insulation of the truck box and the screened windows, it was actually cooler inside than outside. Oliver also had a bowl of water and if he wanted to he could open the cooler and drink from it or take ice out. Soon the school office people learned to calm worry-warts who rushed in to report this "poor dog" but this happened constantly around Boulder and twice that I know of, animal lovers tried to break Oliver out of the truck--once while I was actually sleeping in the back. Fortunately Oliver was protective of his home and he held the invaders off with much barking and snapping.
One day my Environmental Law class supposed to go on a field trip to the Rocky Flats nuclear site. My professor asked if I'd drive as she figured my truck would carry most of the clas. I agreed with the understanding that any riders would have to accept my 4-legged co-pilot and six of my nine fellow students rode with me, the rest riding with the professor in her little car. All the way there, Oliver sat between the driver's and passenger seat just glaring at the fellow who rode up front. The guy finally asked me why the dog was looking at him like that and it dawned on me right away what was up. "You're in his seat," I told him. Oliver was pissed that he'd been put out and he was showing it.
On the way back to school, no one would sit up front despite my assertions that the dog would get over it and all six classmates shoehorned into the back. Oliver rode in his usual seat on the way back, head up and looking proud.
Together Oliver and I climbed to the top of Seven Falls, roamed Garden of the Gods, crossed Royal Gorge, and hiked in Rocky Mountain National Park, where Oliver chased and caught a baby elk twice his own size. Naturally this had me more than a little worried that Mama elk was going to show up and as I ran over to pull Oliver away from the poor scared elkling that was cowering and bawling for it's mother, I was anticipating a charge from an enraged 1500 pound cow elk, followed by a necessary trip to the dog store for a new dog. Fortunately Mom was a no-show and I hustled Oliver away without further incident.
We backpacked for half a week above Leadville and did a lot of hill climbing around Central City and Cripple Creek. Me and that dog saw and did a lot that summer and before we were home he'd ridden on steam engine tour trains and paddle-wheel steamboats on the Mississippi.
And there was more--so much more--that we did. We swam together in warm lakes in Texas and the frigid waters of Lake Superior. He barked at horses from Nashville to New Orleans and back up to Mackinac Island. He never did like horses. He'd play ball for hours with anyone willing to throw one for him. He even used to chase golf balls for me and bring them back for me to hit again. And he was a great babysiter for my nephew, The Spud. He watched over little Spud like a hawk and would herd Spud away from the street when Spud was learning to ride his tricycle. One time Spud got past him and into the street and I was alerted by the loudest, most ferocious barking I'd ever heard from him. I went out front and there sat Spud on his trike in the street and Oliver was standing between him a car that had stopped and he barking fiercely at that car. He may not have been a physics major but he was going to defend that kid with his life before allowing that car to get near. You don't get many dogs like that.
Sadly Oliver's life was cut short in the Fall of 2002 when he chased a deer into traffic and was struck by a car. I can honestly say that nothing has ever hit me as hard as losing that dog that way. It still hurts and there isn't a day that goes by that I don't wish you hadn't left, boy. We weren't near done having fun yet.
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