The Ricker's traveling again.

I mean, after his trip to La Paz and after a trip to Las Vegas and after a trip to New York and after another trip to Phoenix. He's already got another trip booked: he's going to Croatia. In September 2007.

Even though he's not arriving for 330 days, he's been emailing back and forth with some guy that owns a hotel, letting him know when he's arriving and when to pick him up at the airport. I'm sure this guy can't wait for the Ricker to arrive. You know, next September. Maybe its a good thing the Ricker doesn't speak Croatian, because he would have the hotel owner on the phone for hours over the next year.

The Ricker gave me a pea coat.

It's a nice, old pea coat, black, with anchors on the buttons (those that are left anyway). I started wearing this coat in high school. I thought it was pretty cool--it was my grandfather's old coat and apparently the Ricker was wearing this coat when he met Mrs. Ricker (that is, if I can believe anything the Ricker says). Still, it's a nice thought to have when I wear this coat (even though I try to forget about the first time I wore the coat, when I reached into the pocket and found a really old condom wrapper).

The coat used to be the Ricker's dad's coat (I guess we could call his father the Dicker). He passed away before I was born, so this is the only sentimental item I have that reminds me of him. When he gave me the coat, the Ricker told me a story about the Dicker and how he acquired the coat.

Like many men in the Greatest Generation, the Dicker fought in World War II. The Dicker was in the Air Force, fighting in Italy, when his plane was shot down over the Mediterranean. A naval ship picked up the Dicker and issued him a Navy uniform, including a pea coat. When the Dicker returned to the U.S., he kept the coat, eventually giving it to the Ricker.

Because of this story, I wore this coat with pride.

Until I wore the coat to visit my Nana in Portland one morning. She recognized the coat, instantly, because she had seen it so many times. But when I asked her about the Ricker's story, she laughed at me. "That coat? From the Navy? Your grandpa never saw any action like that! In fact, I was with him when he bought that coat--at the old Meier & Frank store!"

The Ricker improvises repairs.

Jury rigged. Ricker rigged. Same thing. He makes his own repairs--from the cardboard on the dishwasher to electrical wiring to garden repairs. Also, remember that the Ricker has two nearly identical cars - a 1992 and 1999 Cadillac STS, both in black with cloth tops and a gold package.

Unfortunately, the Ricker has taken the 1992 through the carwash a few too many times and trim is constantly falling off the car. Sometimes he uses masking tape to hold it on. Recently, one of the gold keyhole rings fell off. He's not sure how, and he's not sure where, but the Cadillac dealer could probably order one (for a nice fee, I'm sure). He wouldn't pay for that (though I wouldn't pay $30 for a little gold ring either, unless I was proposing. Yes, my wife is a lucky gal.)

The Ricker goes to his third favorite place (first being his garden and second the carwash): the hardware store. They don't sell gold rings either. What they do sell are brass washers, for plumbing and other services. That's the reason why the passenger side of the Ricker's car has a brass washer glued around the keyhole. It sticks out like a, well, brass washer. I probably would have just taken the one on the other side off, but that's just me.

The Ricker has a mustache.

He loves it; he's had it 40 years now. I'm beyond hoping for him to shave it, though I still would like to see him trim it back and groom it a little.

Well, I played golf with the Ricker over Thanksgiving. I haven't seen him in a number of months, and he arrived at the golf course before me. Since I was riding on the cart with him, I wanted to tell the cart guy to put my clubs with his. Before I could even describe the Ricker, the cart guy says, "You riding with the guy with the mustache?"

Yes, yes I am.

That's the Ricker for you. His mustache gets around.