Cowdoc there for good cowboys and girls

It's not Santa's sleigh, though it does cart around a jolly oldish elf. Gliding through the dark night and often on the road before early morning light, when most of us are still snug in our beds from a long winter's nap.

It is a 1968 El Camino with a .307 V8 engine, 14-inch rims, original factory flat blue paint, except on the hood and places Wally Adams' horse cribbed off the paint.

This '68 El Camino displays a 25-year-old Christmas gift from an admirer in Smith Valley, COWDOC license plates. Cowdoc has not been on our place for some years. Not since we sold our commercial cows, had the heifers Bangs vaccinated, bulls semen tested and some other dirty jobs done. Now we doctor our own little bunch, preg checking cows, pulling stuck calves and making the medical calls. Cowdoc just passes us in the night like it did last week.

It was well after supper hour out on Highway 395 when the distinct shape of the '68 El Camino, affectionately called El Commode by those who still do call it, glided past Kent and I as we headed home toward Carson Valley. As the beady little red taillights passed and disappeared down the road a warm feeling came over me. Maybe it was the holiday season causing nostalgia to stir up memories or maybe Kent just turned up the car heat. Whatever it was it caused a smile and sparked a call to Cowdoc to check on the mileage it has been spinning up.

Cowdoc, cribbed paint and all, has had cows unloaded on top of it. Bulls literally fight over it leaving a few dents. Presently over 90,000 miles register on its third engine since carting around its driver, who graduated from UC Davis Vet School in 1973. Cowdoc is said to go anywhere a cowboy's 4-wheel drive can tow it, today totaling nearly a million miles. It has gone through two transmissions and absolutely unrememberable number of tires. Its plaid blanket upholstery has cow eye-patch glue dried into it from a ripped pants pocket repair done by a helpful cow operator. The tape deck died a few years back so it doesn't play books on tape any longer, but it still picks up a late night radio news station from Seattle to keep itself company on the long drive home.

Operating hours for Cowdoc is before sun up 'till after dark. It delivers doughnuts to cowboys who at 3 a.m. collect and saddle their horses to gather cattle in predawn light. It stops on winding mountain highways near creeks and rivers to let the fly-fishing rod behind the seat get out and catch some fresh mountain air.

Cowdoc was lovingly repaired and maintained by Martin Peterson of Wellington until Martin passed away a few months ago. Cowdoc is a testament to Martin's phenomenal mechanical ability. Forty years on the road from Santa Rosa to Madera, Battle Mountain to Hawthorn, from ranches near Klamath Falls and south to the Flying M. Cowdoc gets attached to and follows its herds of cows where ever they go.

Not Santa's sleigh, but Cowdoc does travel long days to deliver gifts to cowboys, spirited ranchers and interesting characters. It likes what it does and does what it likes, and to all a good night.

- Marie Johnson is a Carson Valley rancher.