The last laugh

[Kevin Mienke]

I doubt if the Sox & Martin Hemi Cuda ever launched as decisively as that red Dodge bursting out of that snow drift. \

I love that line.

Considering your ability to paint a picture with words, I look forward to hearing more stories.

[NNICKB]

[QUOTE=Considering your ability to paint a picture with words, I look forward to hearing more stories.[/QUOTE]

Hmm. Coming from a published author, that is quite a compliment (blush).

I do not want to monopolize the forum, but since you asked, and since this section permits discussion on "other types of trucks," I will comply with your request.

Before starting, I should say that it is not my habit to think less of people because of their country or heritage, particularly if they are hard working, love their families, and vote the same way I do. But as you will see, it is a necessary part of the story to describe the people as they were. I will simply tell things as they happened.

I have some relatives that live in South Texas. They are city folks, but the men, like most people in that part of the world, love the outdoors, and have access to big arsenals and big vehicles, as well as big cattle ranches on which to exercise them.

Some 25 years ago, they invited me down for one of their grand hunting trips. It was "winter" (though it hardly seemed such) and deer season.

One of my uncles had a new diesel-powered Suburban, blue, with the obligatory dark glass. Don't ask me if it was a Chevy or GMC. Apparently the thing broke down somewhere to the North and he had it towed in to a dealership. It took them a week or two to repair it. He had gotten a ride home somehow, and the car needed to be picked up.

The plan was that he would fly me up there in his airplane, then I would drive the Suburban some 100 miles or so to their ranch.

The plane was a Maule, a small taildragger packing a pretty serious motor. It was designed to take off and land on short, rough, runways. He kept it, however, at the city airport. We taxied right along with the Boeing 737s of the commercial lines, and out onto the runway. We were cleared for takeoff, and, it seems, as soon as we were moving, were up in the air. I swear by the end of the runway, we had reached our cruising altitude.

An hour or two later, we landed at our destination. It was cold and windy, a desolate place, the airplane terminal consisting of a doublewide with a coffee machine inside. The service man from the dealership met us there. He flipped me the keys to the Suburban, and I was off.

Driving the Suburban through rural South Texas was not unlike flying the plane. That is, you just pick a direction, and go. There is no need to steer. For a kid from rural Pa, it was like a visit to Mars.

I managed to find the gate for the ranch. It was late afternoon, and getting colder. The gate had a series of padlocks, and I had been given a series of keys. I tried each key in each lock. Twice. None of them worked.

Cell phones were a thing of the future in those days. I hopped back into the Suburban, and headed for the nearest "town," which consisted of three houses and a convenience store. Oh yes, and a payphone.

I got some dimes and started making calls. The ranch house. The house. The office. No one answered.

I returned to the warm, comfortable interior of the Suburban, and placed the key in the ignition. It wouldn't start. I cranked. I played with the glow plugs. I read the owner's manual. The piece of junk just wouldn't start.

I got out and started wandering around. In front of the store was a Ford F250, about five years old at the time, with a home made wooden stake bed. Parked at an angle to it was an aging Chevrolet pickup. Both hoods were up. The trucks were connected by jumper cables.

Two Mexican guys were staring blankly under the hood of the Ford. One was short and stocky, with a big mustache. The other was a little taller, and thin. Both wore big, straw cowboy hats.

"What's the problem?" I asked.

"Truck won't start." Came the reply. "Wee are tryeeng to jump start eet."

The jumper cables looked to be of good quality. I checked the connections. They were tight. I took a big screwdriver out of a nearby tool box and tried to ground the starter. There were a lot of sparks, but no movement.

"Hmm," I said. "My best guess is the starter."

"Just our luck." came the reply.

I walked over to the cab of the Ford and peered inside. A big stick shift poked reassuringly from the floor.

"Hey!" I said. "We can catch it in gear. You guys have a tow chain?"

"Oh No," the short guy said. "We do have two chains. But they are both too short."

"Umm, I went to college," I said condescendingly. "We can hook the two chains together and make one long one."

"Brilliant!" the short guy exclaimed. "Wee see you are veery smart!"

"Yeah. So I'm told. We need to hook onto the back of this truck first, pull it away from the building, and then hook to the front."

"No need for that," said the short guy. He motioned the tall one into the Ford. He then jumped into the Chevy pickup, and proceeded to ram into the front of the Ford. The bumpers didn't quite match, and the impact broke the plastic grille, and shattered a headlight. The Ford dutifully flew back about 30 feet and came to rest.

The short guy maneuvered the Chevy into position, and hopped out, with two five foot chains.

I quickly tied them together and lashed them to the frames of the trucks. "Make sure the key is on." I told the taller guy. He nodded. "Let her rip." I told the other.

The two trucks took off down the road in tandem. Soon the Ford's engine was roaring at full throttle, while the short guy unhooked the chains. Both trucks turned around and came back up the roads, their drivers grinning from ear to ear.

They both got out, motors idling. The short guy came up and announced. "You help us! Now we help YOU!"

"Oh no." I replied. "I'll get a hold of somebody. Don't worry about it."

"It's a deeesel, right?"

"Yeah, so what?"

"All you have to do is put WD40 in the engine and shee start right up."

He returned to his truck and came out brandishing a blue and yellow can. He motioned to the taller guy and pointed to the Suburban. Before I could sneeze he was behind the wheel yanking on the hood latch.

"Look" I protested. It's a new car. It's under warranty. It doesn't belong to me."

"Donn worry."

The short guy put his foot on the bumper, and heaved himself into the Suburban's giant engine compartment. There were warning labels all over the place. "DON'T USE STARTING FLUID. IT WILL VOID THE WARRANTY. IT WILL CAUSE DEATH OR SERIOUS INJURY. DON'T EVEN THINK ABOUT IT. THIS MEANS YOU!"

"Look here," I told him. "The label says you're not supposed to do that. Cut it out."

"Crank her up!" He yelled.

The taller guy started cranking the starter. The short guy under the hood sprayed an ever so tiny wisp of the WD40 into the nostril of the air cleaner.

The Suburban started instantly. It settled into a contented idle. I couldn't believe it.

The short guy jumped down and closed the hood dramatically. He was beaming with pride.

"You thought wee were a bunch of dumb Mexicans ay?" he said.

"Uh yeah, I guess so..."

"We know theengs that you don't"

"Obviously." I replied.

We shook hands, patted each other on the back, and wished each other well. I hopped back into the Suburban, adjusted my ball cap, and headed South, towards the city.

It was dark now, and I was wearing sunglasses. But hey, at least I didn't have to steer...

[Bruce]

Directions, We Don't Need No Stinkin' Directions

South Texas........how far south?
Another good one for the tailgate.

[NNICKB]

Error

[QUOTE=NNICKB;76327] I took a big screwdriver out of a nearby tool box and tried to ground the starter. There were a lot of sparks, but no movement. QUOTE]

Replace the word "ground" with "jump."

[NNICKB]

South Texas........how far south?
Another good one for the tailgate.

Rio Grand Valley/ McAllen. About as far south as you can go without hitting the creek, er, river. Palm trees, but no movie stars. Best grapefruits in the world.

[Bruce]

Sounds Good

I might have to add it to my itinerary? I've been to your neighborhood a few times, the Panhandle, Amarillo, Dallas/Ft. Worth & Fredricksburg. Some day when I give up the rat race...............

[NNICKB]

I might have to add it to my itinerary? I've been to your neighborhood a few times, the Panhandle, Amarillo, Dallas/Ft. Worth & Fredricksburg. Some day when I give up the rat race...............

My "neighborhood" is central Pa, where it is greener, whiter, grayer, and colder than South Tx.

[Hobcobble]

I'm requesting an exemption to the Cowboy hat rule. When I drive the Border Patrol Ramcharger through the Home depot parking lot, wearing the Richard Petty wrap around sunglasses and White cowboy hat, the invaders scatter. Somehow I don't think my Roman legion helmet would be as effective.

Years ago, my father-in-law gave me a Minnetonka [made in the USA]
cowboy hat that I've used for years. It is the only decent rain hat I
own. I don't claim to be a cowboy.... I have a nice dry head when I
come in from the rain though :)
John

[Kevin Mienke]

My 3rd grade teacher, Miss Webb, got the idea that she would try to teach us boys how to be men. This involved trying to instill a womanly view of manhood into us. This wasn’t exclusive to Miss Webb...it went on throughout my years in elementary school, Jr. High and High School, finally peaking in college. College was the worst for trying to turn men into women.

I remember Miss Webb though, in particular, because it was the first time I had heard these womanly things. She told us to set aside our plastic machine guns at recess, stop making up wars, and stop arguing over who was dead. She wanted us to play quiet and tame games, "just like the girls."

She was trying to take away our boyish spirit and make us better students of the 1960’s. It was an era of change and she wanted to affect us with all of the things she had learned in college. And she was successful to a large degree. Many of my classmates were an easy sell. I was a bit harder. The best I ever did in her class was a C+, probably because I couldn’t get past staring at her legs. She had very nice legs.

She really couldn’t take the boy out of me.

A little later, I learned how to tame my spirit without smashing it to bits. Losing your boyish spirit can be devastating if you aspire to someday have a manly spirit. I think schools are missing that fact. I think many parents are missing that fact.

Let boys be boys.

[Bruce]

Life

Hey Kevin, I didn't know you went to school/grew up in Baltimore? Ms. Webb had quite a set of gams...drove me crazy too.

[Kevin Mienke]

Hey Kevin, I didn't know you went to school/grew up in Baltimore? Ms. Webb had quite a set of gams...drove me crazy too.

Things like that can hold a power over you.

In hindsight, Miss Webb was probably the first in a long line of women that puzzled me. She was very contradictory to everything I thought I knew. Of course she was a young woman teaching a new way in the 1960's.

I wonder if she would teach the same way today. It seems that many of those same people who felt so strongly about changing the world then now long for the old ways.

I just wonder.

Either way, we could never understand women as well as they understand us. We are much more transparent I think. They can see right through us.

Yet, we know very little about them and they seem to like it that way. The only thing we know for sure is that we want one desperately. We know this from a very young age.

[NNICKB]

It seems that many of those same people who felt so strongly about changing the world then now long for the old ways.

That hasn't been my experience.

Most of the old hippies I have run across become incredulous when younger people don't think they're "cool," and seek to adopt the old ways they fought so hard to get rid of.

I don't have any use for them at all.

[Hobcobble]

My original thought was more about the man than the machine. What has happened to the man? Why can't he go out in the blizzard when there is a need? Why is he not prepared to take care of his family?

My answer to these questions is possibly over-simplified but here it is...A man becomes a man when a man is needed. Men have not been needed in my neighborhood for a long time.

The place where I live is very much the definition of suburbia. The houses and the attached garages are all identical right down to the pine shrub planted exactly five foot from the corner of the garage. We have paved roads, paved bike paths and sidewalks. Everyone has a 10’x10’ garden shed but none of us have gardens. We have trash pickup on Monday and recycle bin every other Monday.

We have 4 bedrooms and three bathrooms, granite countertops, stainless steel appliances, and Italian tile flooring. We can get crushed ice by pushing a button on the refrigerator door.

To keep the neighborhood uniform, the homeowner’s association must approve the color of our houses. They like beige.

It is a controlled environment….controlled not by the men who live here, but rather something else undefined and unseen. There is no need for men. They see no reason that they should not drive minivans. They don't need log chains. They don't need sledgehammers or axes or chainsaws. Their "tool kits" are kept in a kitchen drawer.

The environment of the suburbs ages a man’s soul. That is, it steals the human spirit, and strips man of his purpose which is caring for and protecting his family. The suburbs convince us that life is all about being comfortable and safe, but it doesn’t require that we men must be charged with making it comfortable and safe.

The sabre tooth cat and the grizzly is a great idea. Men would become men again because men would be needed.

What keeps you there?
John

[jjaysonn42]

EEK! If you are having a blizzard there that means it is heading our way...

Even the minivan has its uses. Some years ago I saw a review of a minivan on TV. The program was hosted by these two guys from Boston or someplace. One of the features of this minivan was that each of the seats folded down and had four cupholders on the back. So they folded down ALL of the seats, loaded the van with 20 7-Eleven Big Gulps, and were driving it around town. It was hilarious.

Some day I will tell you guys the story of the theatre troupe that had a 4WD Dodge stuck in the snow, and how we got it out.

he he he... so funny. liked it. :lol:



____________________
Personal Training London

[Kevin Mienke]

What keeps you there?
John

Hi John,

We came in from the country about five or six years ago when I got sick. The old place would have been too much for Momma and Colt to take care of.

Things being what they were, it seemed to be the wise thing to do for my family's sake. I still believe it was. Times were hard enough without adding more weight to them.

Things are different now. I've been cancer free for quite some time and the future seems to be wide open. Colt is a sophomore in High School and the plan is to go somewhere different after he graduates.