It's Wolf Month, but Not For Me

I'm so in the wrong career field.

April is Wolf Month, at least at the University of Colorado. It's a full month of lectures and exhibits about the biology, ecology, history and politics of the gray wolf in the United States, which is a really hot topic here in the West. Tonight was the kickoff. It was good.

I didn't actually learn anything though. I've read so much about the subject I could have given the lecture. In fact, questions were asked that the presenter didn't know the answers to. I knew the answers. It's funny, because after three years at the lab I still wouldn't be able to give a decent lecture on renewable energy. It's just not my thing. It's a paycheck. The natural sciences are definitely my thing. I know (and care) way more about my hobbies and personal interests than I do about my own career field. It's sad.

After the lecture I walked around the exhibits. I felt a stirring of emotion for my long-ago dream of being a biologist, which I sacrificed for the "easy money." I've blogged about this before.

Stuffed, dried and preserved specimens of wolves and their bones were on display. There were stuffed birds common to the Rocky Mountains, and you could push a button to hear sketchy recordings of their songs. There were panels of pinned insects and butterflies, boxes of "touch and feel" bones, dioramas, murals, fossil casts, informational plaques and all the other stuff you'd expect to find in a museum. I was in my element.

When the kids and housewives and other curious non-scientists were asking their questions: How many wolves are in Yellowstone? How many wolves does it take to kill a buffalo? Why aren't there wolves in Rocky Mountain National Park? I wanted to tell them. I didn't want to just answer the questions, I wanted to engage them. I wanted to paint the answers in their imaginations, and stir something within their hearts. I wanted to tell them a really good story.

I was in San Diego last week for work. I was part of a team from the lab who met with the Navy. They're interested and highly motivated in getting renewable energy on their bases. (It's an energy security thing, not a "green" thing for them.) All told it was me and seven really smart engineers. I have great respect for them and for their brainpower and dedication. But they're engineers. I'm not. I don't want to be. We met at their engineering headquarters, where all the "brains" of the Navy work. These people are mostly civilians who are employed by the Navy. It looked like a warehouse outside, and the inside was much worse. It was a maze of cubes with pictureless, windowless gray walls and dark, navy blue carpeting. The walls were gray. The ceiling was gray. It was dark. It was oppressive. It was very, very quiet and still - not in a peaceful way, but a sort of dead, joyless, soulless way. It was a prison. What furniture there was was all particle board and old. It smelled like a cube farm. It was your typical suburban office space, but with every trace of life and color drained from it. The only evidence of "fun" in the whole place was a sad little half eaten tray of mini cupcakes - chocolate, hastily frosted, plain, ignored - that looked like they'd been there a week. As I walked between the cubes I saw the cube farmers. Everyone looked the same: middle aged, a slight paunch, glasses. No decor to speak of. No color. No lively office clowns or brash secretaries. Everyone was quietly pecking away at their standard black PC's. It gave me the creeps just being there. There's no telling how much money these guys make, but personally I couldn't be paid enough to work in that mausoleum.

This, too, got me thinking about my own cube farm. While I have windows and sunshine, and there are some colorful people in my office, I'm still in a cube. Still attending regular staff meetings and filling out TPS reports. Still chained to a computer. Still manipulating numbers and shapes that I have a hard time associating with the real and tangible things they sort of represent. And while I quietly peck away at my plastic keyboard, frying my retinas on a hot computer screen, there are wolves roaming the wilds of Yellowstone. There are researchers following them, tagging them, writing papers about them and giving lectures on them. Their office carpet is yellow monkeyflower and Wyoming paintbrush. The walls are lodgepole pine, Engleman spruce and 1,000 foot slabs of limestone. Their ceiling is an endless blue sky, and their office mates are the wolf, the grizzly, the elk and the deer, the fox and the beaver and the coyote. As I peck away, there are kids wondering how many wolves are in Yellowstone, and why they can't see them in Rocky Mountain National Park.

Something has to be done.

Home Again

I just got home from San Diego. It was a business/pleasure trip. It was so nice to feel 80 degrees again and to see the ocean and tropical plants. I had a great time.

But Californians can keep their bums, their gridlocked traffic, their smog and their overdeveloped urban world of orchestrated chaos. God I'm glad to be back in Colorado. Boulder is very good, but always when I come back from a trip to Urbania I feel the need to disappear deep into the wilderness and find my quiet cabin.

In other news, Boulder is going to have its first day in the 70's this week! And the farmer's market opens exactly one week from today! Woohoo!

Advice to the Young

If you're under 30 and you have a craving for adventure, just go do it. You'll probably never have such a great opportunity again.

Go backpacking across Europe or Asia. Walk across America. Go work a summer job as a wrangler at a dude ranch. Do it before you have kids or a job that you'd be a fool to leave. Do it while you've still got time, before life ties you down, before sensibility destroys your ability to throw caution to the wind. There will always be time for college and a "serious" career, but the window to really taste life is very small indeed.

If Life were Like a Musical

Ever had one of those awesome moments where you're just doing your thing, a song starts playing, and you just get overcome with the joy of that moment? For a moment it's like living in a musical.

Acceptance

Did you know that, in terms of environmental impact, owning a dog is equivalent to owning and driving TWO gas guzzling SUV's simultaneously? It's mostly because of all the factory farmed meat and fillers in commercial dog food. In addition to that, dog waste spreads disease and pollutes millions of miles of waterways. Dogs are also a major killer of wildlife. Cats don't score much better and are a major cause of decline among songbirds and small mammals and reptiles. If you flush your kitty litter down the toilet, you're spreading Toxoplasma gondii, a parasite that infects and kills aquatic wildlife such as otters.

Wind turbines kill migrating birds, and new evidence suggests that the vibrations they produce may cause nervous system disorders in humans. To install wind turbines and solar panels, forests must be cleared. Deserts must be covered. Habitat must be destroyed. Solar panels also contain highly toxic materials that are difficult or impossible to recycle. Electric cars use a lot of highly toxic batteries. Hydrogen is commonly made from coal, which produces carbon dioxide.

Studies have shown that "local" food isn't always the "greener" food. In the UK for example, it would take far more energy to grow strawberries and tomatoes in greenhouses than it would to grow them in Africa and ship them to the UK as is currently done.

The list is long and disturbing, and I'm learning that we modern people have two choices: party like there's no tomorrow, or try to conserve so the party is less wild but lasts a little longer. Either way, the party will end. There are just too damned many of us. And that, my friends, is a fact.

Biologists are quite familiar with a scientific concept called carrying capacity. Carrying capacity is simply the number of organisms an environment can sustain indefinitely. The concept is simple: a population grows slowly at first, then more and more rapidly. There are two possible outcomes: 1. the population levels off and reaches equilibrium with the resources the environment can provide. 2. a major spike in population shoots up beyond the carrying capacity, which is then followed by total collapse of the population. Basically, nature hits the reset button. It's nothing magical or mystical. It's just math. I've read nothing to indicate that any credible scientist or study suggests that anything but number 2 is the path we're on.

I believe I've reached a new phase in my life: acceptance. It's good in that I'm a whole lot less stressed (and thus happier) these days because I just don't worry about stuff very much - especially the things I have little or no control over. It's kinda sad though because the passion I had, that foolish hopefulness that the world could be saved and we could all live in some kind of harmonious Eden, is fading. My passion for things has always been one of my key personality traits. I'm known for it. Who am I without it?

To be clear, it isn't that I don't care about saving the whales or local agriculture anymore. I do. Outwardly I haven't really changed my habits in any obvious ways. I still think saving the whales is the "right" thing to do, though I must admit I don't know what "right" means anymore. The big change for me is internal. I can eat my local, seasonal produce and not get stressed or angry or exasperated if my neighbor doesn't, because I now think that ultimately it won't matter anyway. He's not destroying our society. I'm just delaying the inevitable.

I just don't believe our technology can save us. I believe, and this is just me, that we'll never be able to invent a clever enough machine or system to replace the natural system that nature put into place. No matter how "green" our cars or our cities become, they won't be sustainable, nor will be our population. Only small, dispersed groups of stone age humans can achieve true sustainability, as the North American native tribes had done for 10,000 years. The only way we can last is to live by nature's rules, but ironically by our own nature our culture can't seem to do that. We like to write and re-write, and re-write again our own rules, and pretend that we can overrule the natural world that created us - a world we're still very much a part of no matter if we choose to pretend otherwise.

I'm going to drive my truck and I'm going to love it for the simple joy it brings me, pink haired lesbians, pretentious cyclists and other ignorant Boulder do-gooders be damned. I'm going to relish the return of the farmer's market simply because it brings me joy, regardless of what affect it may or may not have beyond my tastebuds and my health. I'm still going to buy mostly American because it's something I like to do. I'll continue to hope my choices are having a positive effect on the world, but the Cult of Green is no longer my religion.

I'd like to talk a little bit about my last comment. Are you familiar with the concept of original sin? Many Christians believe we're all born sinners, and that our purpose is to spend our lives sacrificing pleasure to try and achieve a level of perfection that, by definition, we can never actually achieve. Seems a little strange, doesn't it? Why would God do that? It's as if you took a little kid, told him he's an awful, lowly, disgusting form of life, then put him in a magical candy store and said, "You have to spend your whole childhood in this store, and the only way I'll forgive you for being the disgusting, imperfect creature that I made you to be, is if you never touch any of the treats with which you must live. Every candy you could ever want is in this store, and I gave you a taste for them all, but you have to eat boiled spinach every day and never touch the candy, and only then can I forgive you for being the person I made you to be."

What?

Well whatever biological issue that made humans invent religion and believe stupid stories like the one above is alive and well even in the non-Christians. Baptists, the Taliban and Greenpeace all have one thing in common: a fanatic devotion to a fanciful, intangible notion that gives them hope but, sadly, isn't real. I think it had me too, because that's how I was living my life. Only I wasn't trying to get into a heaven in the clouds, I was trying to bring heaven to earth. A vegan friend of mine in Boulder is another great example. He's a vehement follower of the Cult of Green, as if he's morally superior to the infidels who eat meat and drive cars. The thing is, even if everyone on the planet lived like him - ate fresh produce throughout the snowy winter, had a posh office job, had plenty of clean water and nice clothes, had a pet cat, had a cute little suburban house, etc., we'd still be unsustainable. We'd still have to wipe out species to put up wind farms and ship our produce from some exploited African farmers. Sorry, but there aren't enough resources for 7 billion of us to be suburbanites with cats. Not even vegan suburbanites. Owning a car, in his mind, is the Green equivalent of "evil," yet he has no problem hopping on the bus for work, or even hopping in the truck with me when I offer to take him snowshoeing. Seems hypocritical to me.

So if an atheist is someone who turns away from a religion that worships God, what do you call someone who turns away from a religion that worships Green?

It's funny. When I finally stopped believing in the Christian God after high school, it was both liberating and sad for me. I'm experiencing that all over again. You can stop believing in the Christian God without turning into a bad person bent on wreaking havoc on the world. It doesn't make you any less kind or compassionate. Likewise, you can stop believing in the Cult of Green without becoming bent on cutting down all the trees and laughing at the loss of the whales. The difference, I suppose, is that you no longer justify your actions as a moral obligation to some fantasy cause, however much false hope it may give you.

Actually, that's not entirely fair. I can't of course say that there is no God with anymore certainty than I can say that there is. Nor can I say with certainty that the recyclers and the wind farms of the world won't save us. Maybe they will. I can't know. There's nothing at all wrong with having hope for a brighter future and working to make it a reality. I do have hope and I'd be lying if I said it played no role in my decision making process. I'm just no longer carrying the guilt and self-righteousness as commanded by a fictitious deity who makes empty promises.

Daddy's Back!

Turns out it wasn't such a long 20 days after all. I bought a Super Duty today.

Now hear me out. I did NOT buy the $60k dream Super Duty. Another dealership down the road just happened to have a used one that caught my eye in a big way. I was just innocently driving by when I saw it and cut across three lanes to fly into the dealership parking lot. Clearly the Universe wanted me to have a truck. Now. This particular rig was my dream Super Duty back in 2007. It's got all the bells and whistles that they had in '07, it's the exact color I wanted, AND it has the bonus of being outfitted with some seriously aggressive wheels and tires. HOT!

The great thing is I picked it up (after a lot of haggling) for a mere $28k (which I verified IS the KBB value) so I kept the Yaris! This truck will definitely get me by until the 2012 Super Duty comes out. It's so sweet! I'd post a pic but it's dark now, and the truck'll be covered in a foot of snow by morning. I'll post a pic next week when it feels like (and actually is) spring again.

Why did I bother to keep the Yaris? I like it. It's my Bouldermobile. And I like Gerard having something to get around in (he won't drive anything bigger than a Jeep). Also I like to be able to park on the front row at Whole Foods and take just one parking space. The Yaris is for in-town errands and occasional jaunts to work, while the Super Duty is for out-of-town, the horse ranch, moving crap, hiking and snowshoeing expeditions, road trips and just plain cruising on beautiful summer afternoons.

And while I'm on the topic of the Super Duty, I've done a lot of reading up on this forthcoming redesign. One thing I thought was particularly intriguing was that its max towing capacity will actually be such that if you were to load that beast up to the max, you'd legally be required to get a commercial trucker's license to tow the load. Wow! I had to pause and asked myself, "Why on earth would you ever need that?" Well I wouldn't. But it would sure be cool (in my world) to have. In addition, this'll be Ford's first 100% American made diesel engine, and it'll also be the cleanest one yet produced. In talking with a co-worker who specializes in hydrogen fuel technology, I learned that diesel engines in the US are actually 10% more efficient than gas engines, and the technology is in place to boost that to 20%.

I'll be following the buzz on Ford's new engine closely over the next 20 months. I bet you can't wait to read all about that.

I'm so ready to hit the open road again.

Tuesday Night on the Town

I don't think I've had this much to drink on a Tuesday night since college.

Patrick, a 28 year old brilliant scientist and co-worker who just returned from his latest stint in Vienna presenting on his integrated assessment model, invited me to The Kitchen for their monthly community beer and wine tasting. It's by reservation only, and everyone gets seated at a big community table. Over 4 hours, we're served multiple courses, each with a beer and wine, that fits whatever theme they're featuring that month. Tonight it was something about the Ides of March, St. Patrick's Day and some other nonsense, so the food/beer/wine was Roman and Irish. Strange, but it worked. The food at The Kitchen is really good. It's one of my favorite Boulder restaurants. It was also the first time I'd ever been served wine by a sommelier. It was pretty cool. I actually learned just a little bit about pairing wine and food, though I have to say I still think it's mostly bullshit.

Boulder is such a weird and fun place. At our table, there was a 25 year old girl who was, by her own admission, a gold digger. She likes to date rich older men. She's also smart. She has a degree in biology and works in biotech, and she's missed only one of these events in the past two years. There was a nice woman who has her own PR company, and her likable but incredibly crass husband who kept insisting in a good natured way throughout the evening that Patrick and I were going to fuck before the night was over. (We didn't of course. It was never a question.) There was the German woman who apparently ranks third in the US among women runners, and who talked incessantly about running. There was the 55 year old fat married man wearing high heels and a blouse who, apparently, just likes to "shake things up" and kept hitting on the 25 year old biotech girl, which she clearly found exasperating. There were two strapping young men, dressed almost the same, who I couldn't figure out if they were gay or straight, and a few other couples at the other end of the table I didn't really get a chance to talk to very much. Then of course there was me and Patrick, and our really fun beer and wine experts who just circulated telling us all about our many beverages and being good natured despite the table they were serving. We were also visited in regular intervals by the chef, who explained where all of the food items came from, how he prepared them, and how he came up with the combination of flavors.

It was quite an awesome night. The conversation ranged from integrated assessment of renewable energy, to running, to sex. I thoroughly enjoyed myself. At one point I found myself separating from the moment, just sort of stepping back and looking at the big picture of my life. On the one hand I want nothing more than to have my ranch, my monster F350 and to spend a whole lot of time running the roads and traveling. But on the other, here I am, a "scientist" by title, with an awesome (albeit desk) job having a $75 per head meal at a table full of the most eclectic mix of strangers in this freaky fun town. Life can be so weird, and despite my complaints I recognize how lucky I am. I'm lucky to be able to experience just a little more of the weird, wild world than most of the rest of my family. I'm lucky to have choices in life.

Most of the people I've met in Boulder have been to far flung places. They've traveled the world, they speak multiple languages, they've got multiple degrees and have so many crazy stories to tell. Compared to them, I'm plain as vanilla. But compared to my roots, I'm the one with a the wild adventurous life. I guess, again, it's all about perspective. Relativity. I sat at the table tonight drinking my beer and smiling, and thinking how very lucky I am just to be out in the world.

It just sucks that I have to go to work tomorrow.

It's My Obsession

612 days.

I called the Ford dealer - the one holding my dream Super Duty. I told him that after a long, careful, painful consideration, I would have to decline their best offer. It is the financially responsible thing to do. The Yaris has 3,212 miles on it. I haven't even taken it for its first oil change yet.

My stomach is in knots over this. I am almost completely blinded by my desire to possess this thing. Almost. I have just enough self control to say no, but just barely.

Why bother? Can I afford it? Yes. But even at 0% interest, a $60,000 truck financed for 60 months equals a payment that even I haven't been able to justify. But I have calculated that, if I stick to a strict budget, then on November 18, 2011 I'll have enough cash to buy the truck outright. No financing, no payments, no worries. Hella bargaining power.

612 days.

Of course there are still 20 days left for 0% financing. It's going to be a long 20 days.

Broomfield

Every now and then I start to feel trapped, or maybe it's just that I'm needing a change, but I start thinking about moving out of Boulder or, at the very least, to a different part of Boulder. Maybe some place a bit cheaper where I won't be wasting so much money on rent while trying to save for a house in the country. For example, if I moved 15 miles away to Broomfield, I could get an apartment that's twice as nice for half the price.

This weekend I did some apartment shopping. One of my stops was in Broomfield. I spent a lot of time trying to get a feel for the place, to see if I could live there for a year or so. It's total suburbia, the kind of place I've long shunned. But it's 15 minutes closer to work, and the apartment I looked at is very nice. It's brand new, has a big, modern floor plan, massive closets, enormous kitchen, brand new appliances, garage, big windows, year-round heated pool, allows dogs, etc. It's half the price of my current apartment, which has a single closet-sized bathroom, a couple of pantry-sized closets, no pantry at all, and a galley kitchen with appliances manufactured around the time I was born. But I do have the mountains and Boulder Creek, which is something Broomfield can never hope to offer.

The complex is completely surrounded by Big Box stores. You name it, it's there. Broomfield is suburbia at its finest. I was also scoping a gym, so I checked out 24 Hour Fitness which is right across the street. The young sales dude gave me the tour and asked if I was ready to join. I explained that I was actually living in Boulder but was considering moving to Broomfield in the summer, and was just scouting potential neighborhoods at this time.

"Oh man I love Boulder!" he said. "It's so quiet out there, plus you have the mountains! The people are so friendly. Wow, I'd love to live out there! But I can't afford the high rent, so I live here in this hell hole."

I decided I should give Boulder a harder look.

Learnin'

They say you learn something new every day. That must be an average because I swear there are some days I don't think I learned a damn thing. Today was not one of those.

Today I learned:

1. That I'll be driving the Yaris for at least another year, probably two. I went to the Ford dealership earlier in the day. They had my dream truck on the lot. I mean, down to the last bolt, this truck was exactly what I would end up with if I could sit down and draw up the plans from scratch. It was $59,000. I drove it. I salivated over it. I caressed it. I sat in every seat. I looked at it from every angle. I tested every feature. I even applied for credit and worked the numbers. All I had to do was sign on the dotted line. But I drove off in the Yaris. This wasn't the agreement I made with myself when I bought the Yaris. Stick to the plan, man.

2. Biker bars aren't nearly as much fun as gay bars. Yes, I picked the place and organized an after-work happy hour. We did have a good time, and people at work seem to like this bar (which is why I picked it.) But I couldn't help but take note of the stark differences between the two kinds of establishments. When you go into a gay bar most of the patrons have gone to great lengths, or at the very least some lengths, to take care of themselves and make themselves attractive: nice clothes, fit bodies, fashionable hairstyles. And it's so easy to meet and talk to new people. But in a biker bar, it's all about how much fat you can squeeze into denim and black leather, and how much greasy gray hair you can stuff under a bandana. Have these people no pride at all?

3. Life can play very cruel jokes on you at times. Or so it seems.

4. My gaydar is seriously out of whack. Apparently I wouldn't know a homosexual if he smiled, winked and flirted with me week after week for over a year every time I went into Whole Foods. Or if he stared at me every time he passed my desk at work for months on end. Or if he was the slightly effeminate new guy who showered me with compliments and kept asking me what I was doing this weekend.

Gays are weird, straights are weirder, and people in general leave me exhausted.

Shelter

There are a lot of terrible things in the world. It's easy to lose oneself in chaos and despair.

But now and then I'm reminded that, for all of the pain and darkness, there are beautiful things too. Not things. People. Moments. Blips in time that are so exquisite that they can make one forget, for a time, about everything else. So powerful are they that they can melt the heart and bring light into the deepest, loneliest places of one's soul - places we dare not venture within ourselves until the path is illuminated from without. For just a little while the world could not be any more perfect.

But always it fades. Always that thing that brought us so much joy grows dark and cold and disappears into the nothingness from which it seemed to come. We are left again in a cold, uncaring world. Only the memory of that blissful moment remains to keep us warm as the long night sets in. And I am left to wonder why. Why should it be that such a beautiful thing cannot last - if not eternal, at least then a single lifetime? Is that so much to ask from a Universe so large and mysterious?

Perhaps these moments are like a spring flowers, sure to fade but always sure to return again and offer a respite from the long bleak winter. Perhaps there is a very, very rare flower - a rose that blooms eternal. A flower so fragrant and stunning and full of magic that even the coldest winter wind cannot steal its warmth.

Perhaps I'll always be a hopeless romantic.

Procrastinating

Lordy what a gorgeous sunny day. I've got the windows open. It's almost enough to make me forget that tomorrow is supposed to wet and cold.

I saw the first honeybees of the season and the crocus are now fully open. I also saw a couple of gardeners cracking open their sleepy garden soils. It does my heart good.

In totally unrelated news, here is one example of the many reasons I hate the world's ridiculous obsession with utterly useless technology: MeBot Seriously?

Looks like I'm going to be traveling to San Diego for work in a couple of weeks. I'm meeting with some Navy officials about renewable energy optimization on their bases. I may extend my stay and soak up some beach while I'm there.

In April I'm off to DC for mom's birthday, and in May mom is coming to Boulder for my birthday. I'm surprising her with a room at the Hotel Boulderado, one of her favorite spots in town.

June, July and August I plan to burn all of my vacation time: New York, Chicago, Portland, Yellowstone National Park, Sequoia National Park and the Grand Canyon are my top considerations.

But at the moment, I have 7.5 days until the quarter ends and all of my assignments must be submitted for final grades. With diligence and a dash of luck, I'll get it all done this weekend and I can breathe easy for a couple of weeks until the spring quarter starts. I'm so looking forward to summer.

Spring!

Nearly every day this week was in the 50's, the first "warm" streak since last fall. Over the next five days it may not even dip below freezing at night. Woohoo! This morning while walking to the gym I noticed spring flowers in someone's garden! Yes, the good 'ol crocus, always first to push through the frozen soil in early spring, has graced us once again with its lovely yellow, white and purple flowers here in Boulder. More trees are starting to bud. Soon daffodils and tulips and green leaves will be everywhere, and I'm going to cry like a baby if a late winter storm throws a wrench in the works again this year.

I was just reading about the kickoff to the Star of Texas Fair and Rodeo in Austin. It's going to be eighty degrees in Austin next week. EIGHTY! That's like summer here! I'm really getting homesick thinking about all those Texans in their cowboy hats and trucks and short sleeves enjoying the rodeo while we're just barely starting to thaw out up here. There's still piles of snow taller than me outside.

But then again, we do have mountains. And wilderness unlike anything in Texas. When it's mid-August and Austinites are oppressed by scorching sun and 110 degree heat mixed with 90% humidity and smog, I'll be under a crisp blue sky enjoying 87 degrees and almost no humidity.

Who am I kidding. I love that Texas heat! I guess I just love it all: Colorado or Texas. Frigid snowstorms or scorching heat waves. Icy whitewater streams or tepid lazy rivers. Stuck-up vegan do-gooders or ass-backward conservative ignoramuses.

Wait, scratch that last set.

UPDATE: I just checked the weather. It's going to freeze every night and another snow is expected this weekend. Dammit!

Would it be extravagant if I flew to Austin next weekend, bought an F350 and drove it out to the rodeo?

Happy Texas Independence Day!

Y'all!

Daily Affirmation

I do NOT need a Ford F350 Super Duty even though they're 0% financing until April.

I do NOT need a Ford F350 Super Duty even though they're 0% financing until April.

I do NOT need a Ford F350 Super Duty even though they're 0% financing until April.

I do NOT need a Ford F350 Super Duty even though they're 0% financing until April.

I do NOT need a Ford F350 Super Duty even though they're 0% financing until April.

I do NOT need a Ford F350 Super Duty even though they're 0% financing until April.

Lord help me.