Ad's not going to like this post.
He's a modest man, and it's hard to even get a photo of him at the best of times. He ducks out of the viewfinder every time.
The idea of a whole post about him? That's not a deprecating fiasco farming story? I'll push my luck.
When we moved home to my hometown and family farm, one of the drawcards for Ad was the possibility of joining the Rural Fire Service. My Dad's been a member for about a hundred years. He was Captain for many of those and is still very active. I've always been so proud of him.
Ad has wanted to volunteer for a brigade since he was five. Or four, I think.
And so, before he even arrived in town, an application was stuck on our fridge for him.
He loves the RFS. If that beeper goes off he gets up in the middle of dinner or the middle of the night and attends car accidents or smoke alarm dramas at the local retirement home or the very occasional fire.
This weekend: he got the call. Time to learn to drive the truck.
And the instructer being the Deputy Captain, a good friend of Dad's and familiar with Adam's smallies, suggested a stop en route. At the farm.
There's just nothing like seeing someone's dreams coming true before your eyes.
It's the coolest thing.