Old Power Wagons and Being Home

[Kevin Mienke]

Spent a good part of the morning going over my list of things to get done. I didn’t get any of them done, but I did a fine job of going over the list.

While I was doing so, a guy called and asked for directions to my place here at Stone Mountain. I told him that this area is a bit rural and that it might be a good idea for him to use a GPS.

So he did.

But it turns out that the GPS he used was one of those where the voice is that of a young British gal, speaking the Queen’s English. Turns out, also, that the young gal didn’t know her way around this part of Carolina.

When the guy finally got to my place, he was tired, worn out, and fairly well ticked off… not just at the British gal, but also at the whole of rural North Carolina. He was mad at the narrow roads. He was mad at the deer. He was mad at me. He was mad at the hills and hollers. And, judging by his use of four-letter words, he was especially mad at the number of gray-haired men who drive old trucks.

Being a gray haired man myself, and one who drives an old truck, I could have taken a measure of offense, but I didn’t. I let it pass. I suppose, as a guy’s hair gets grayer and grayer, he gets harder and harder to offend.

As I thought about the goodness of letting things pass, he looked at me, and asked, “Why didn’t you just tell me to drive to nowhere and look smack dab in the middle?”

Myself, I’ve never thought of this place as being nowhere. Even before the gray hair, I understood that places like this are the ones where a guy can gather up the goodness of living. He can pass his time in a pure and right way, with nothing more than a wide porch, a piece of apple pie, and a pretty woman wearing blue jeans. He can get a reasonably priced cup of coffee at a bona fide country café and have it served to him by a sweet lady who calls him darlin’. He can take a rod and reel out on a beautiful stream and never be disappointed…even when he doesn’t catch a fish.

So I judge the guy was wrong. This place isn’t nowhere. To some, it’s our everywhere. To some it’s our home. To some, it’s that one place that, when we get there, we realize we’ve hit it big.

But, the truth is, there’s no sense in a guy like me trying to explain such a thing to a guy like him. Judging by his BMW and necktie, he wouldn’t get it.

So again I let it pass.

Maybe the idea, then, is that we love what we love, and those of us who love old trucks and apple pie and women in blue jeans don’t necessarily feel the urge to argue with the people who don’t. We can, instead, sit on the porch with a glass of sweet tea and get a good bit of satisfaction out of watching them leave.

And if they wonder whether we're doing ok, we can assure them all is well, the woods haven’t yet been overrun with neckties, the mountains are alive with the sweet smell of pine, the streams are nearly ready for trout fishing, the list of things to get done will eventually get done, and the old truck will get us to the café in time for a cup of coffee.

And when a guy has an old truck that will get him to the café in time for a cup of coffee, he won’t give a thought to the things he might be missing out on elsewhere.

The first photo was taken by Charles Talbert, at his place, on the day my truck arrived in North Carolina.

The second photo is what I see when I sit on my front porch with my pretty lady in blue jeans

[Bob Thompson]

Kevin, It sounds quite a bit like heaven to me. You are obiously much more patient with his sort than I am.
Did he ever get around to telling you why he was there?

[Kevin Mienke]

Kevin, It sounds quite a bit like heaven to me. You are obiously much more patient with his sort than I am.
Did he ever get around to telling you why he was there?

Yeah. He was an investment guy out of Charlotte. He'd been trying, for some time, to meet with me about "the many opportunities available to me".

After our short visit, it seems the investment opportunities for a guy with the income of a retired fireman aren't all that many.

[Bob Thompson]

It's a pity he couldn't enjoy the experience. I'm told that much like life, joy is in the journey and not the destination.
Personally I love a good country road, and if it's gravel that's just icing on the cake.

[Gsmith]

Judging by the second picture I don't see how you could make a better investment than you already have.

[Kevin Mienke]

It's a pity he couldn't enjoy the experience. I'm told that much like life, joy is in the journey and not the destination.
Personally I love a good country road, and if it's gravel that's just icing on the cake.

When my son was young, he and I would take off on road trips. Most times, we didn’t have any particular place in mind. We just went somewhere…anywhere, and let the rest happen.

What we discovered was that you can go almost anywhere you want, and you can have a good time of it, as long as you have the right company. Same thing with life…surround yourself with good people…go where the wind takes you…and wait to see what happens.

It’s easy to start thinking you need to go somewhere in particular, to maybe manipulate and control what happens… and you probably would if you had a Roadrunner with a 426, a gold card, and a dog named Zeus. But you don’t. You have an old truck, one tank of gas, and a dog named Tater. So you just climb in the old truck with one of your favorite people, Tater too, and head down a gravel road.

I don't know what it is, but something about doing a road trip in such a way will take a bit of the weightiness out of life. You come home feeling lighter. Maybe it’s spending time with one’s son. Or maybe it’s trusting that good things will happen and knowing that we can handle anything bad that might happen. Again, same thing with life. Do the journey down whatever road is in front of you, don’t wish for things that you don’t have, make the best of all that you do have, be good to your dog, take a few moments to be with your loved ones, accept the good and the bad things, and have a bit of faith that, in the end, everything will work out just fine.

I don’t suppose the guy who was here today could have grasped any of that. I don’t suppose he’s spent time thinking about such things.

[Kevin Mienke]

Judging by the second picture I don't see how you could make a better investment than you already have.

Indeed.

[Jake]

I enjoyed the story Kevin, thanks for sharing.

[Kevin Mienke]

You're welcome Jake

[Jerry Henry]

Hi Kevin .
I appreciated your story, and can relate to it quite easily.
Life here in North Idaho can be quite like your area. I say "can be" because we have sufficient cities, such as Coeur d'Alene, or, across the border in Washington, Spokane, if one really needs the city. Turns out I have had to utilize the city's offerings in the medical world quite a few more times than I would have preferred in the last 6 months.
But the interesting thing I have found is that in the past nearly 45 years of living here, a huge number of people that I have known and an even larger number I have not known, have moved here, supposedly wanting to escape the city life and live the rural life, only to find that they just can't hack it.
The ones who turn tail and go back to their roots don't bother me. I figure they gave it a try and they didn't like it and so no they are back where they do like it.
The dangerous ones are the ones who band together to form "posses" with the intent of correcting our way of life here, the way of life that existed prior to their coming, prior to my coming. I don't mean to pick on any one place in particular, but the expression is so cleverly fitting, I find it useful in this instance. These ones are accused of trying to "californicate" north Idaho. Now, the offenders might be from Arizona, Minnesota, Massachusetts, Washington, or anywhere else. The point is, they love the beauty, but they don't love the weather or the lifestyle or the slower pace of life, and they want to bring all of the ways they supposedly were leaving behind right along with them and make "here" be like "there". And as for the weather, their dislike for winter can be solved by adopting the "snowbird" lifestyle, escaping for 3 or 4 months to a more suitable climate.
Having said all of this, I now must say I was born in Elsinore, Calif., in 1942. My parents moved from there to Laguna Beach aroumd 1946. In those days, that was about as close to paradise as one could find. We had miles of clean, uncrowded beaches, abalone and lobster were all over for our diving pleasure, surfing was uncrowded, and life was great. Then everyone moved in, and shortly I married my wife and moved out.
Is this all in the name of "progress"?

[Doc Dave]

Jerry,
WE have the same kind of thing on the east coast. My wife and I like to go to the Outer Banks of NC, as I have posted before. I have been down there twice with the power wagon to go on the beach. We have a home down there now.
Natives have been driving on the beach there for decades.
Now, mostly urban "environmentalists", especially the more militant ones, would like to shut down all or most of the beaches for the reason of helping the wildlife.
Now, I am all for helping the wildlife, but for some it is an all or nothing. I am more in the middle. Right now there are some restrictions and I am o.k. with those, especially for the turtle breeding locations and bird nesting, but I am afraid that over time it will be eventually all be banned for driving. There are not that many trucks on the beach as it is now, and some of the species in question seem to be doing o.k. from what I can glean.
I think the locals know what inaction can mean, so have become militant in the opposite way.
So far, we can still go on some chopped up sections of the beach, but we have to pay $120 a year, and for that get NO accommodations like rest rooms, outdoor shower. Just a tax and a seeming effort to inhibit beach driving.

[Bob Thompson]

Hi Kevin .
I appreciated your story, and can relate to it quite easily.
Life here in North Idaho can be quite like your area. I say "can be" because we have sufficient cities, such as Coeur d'Alene, or, across the border in Washington, Spokane, if one really needs the city. Turns out I have had to utilize the city's offerings in the medical world quite a few more times than I would have preferred in the last 6 months.
But the interesting thing I have found is that in the past nearly 45 years of living here, a huge number of people that I have known and an even larger number I have not known, have moved here, supposedly wanting to escape the city life and live the rural life, only to find that they just can't hack it.
The ones who turn tail and go back to their roots don't bother me. I figure they gave it a try and they didn't like it and so no they are back where they do like it.
The dangerous ones are the ones who band together to form "posses" with the intent of correcting our way of life here, the way of life that existed prior to their coming, prior to my coming. I don't mean to pick on any one place in particular, but the expression is so cleverly fitting, I find it useful in this instance. These ones are accused of trying to "californicate" north Idaho. Now, the offenders might be from Arizona, Minnesota, Massachusetts, Washington, or anywhere else. The point is, they love the beauty, but they don't love the weather or the lifestyle or the slower pace of life, and they want to bring all of the ways they supposedly were leaving behind right along with them and make "here" be like "there". And as for the weather, their dislike for winter can be solved by adopting the "snowbird" lifestyle, escaping for 3 or 4 months to a more suitable climate.
Having said all of this, I now must say I was born in Elsinore, Calif., in 1942. My parents moved from there to Laguna Beach aroumd 1946. In those days, that was about as close to paradise as one could find. We had miles of clean, uncrowded beaches, abalone and lobster were all over for our diving pleasure, surfing was uncrowded, and life was great. Then everyone moved in, and shortly I married my wife and moved out.
Is this all in the name of "progress"?

I sympathize Jerry, We had the same problem in Seattle. Particularly West Seattle. The yuppies took one look at Alkai beach and they couldn't buy it up fast enough. Then the cleared all those pesky trees off the property because they can't see Puget sound. These are the same people who screamed bloody murder when their 1.2 million dollar eyesores went sliding down the hill. It seems those pesky trees had a role to play in nature's plan after all. And who'd have thought there would be so much rain?
When they weren't ruining neighborhoods or complaining about the weather, they busied themselves with building Mini-Malls and convenience stores.
Then they started in on down town; they started by ruining Pike place market. Full of wonderfully filthy and wierd little shops and antique stores, some of which looked like the Adam's family attic. They also ran off all the interesting street life . They were the character of Pike Pl. but it had to be gentrified. Now it's full of overpriced off shore crap and under talented art.
A lot of great musicians did a bit of busking there as too, they've been discouraged from hanging about as well.
I have been a California resident for most of my life and it pains me to say that we as a group are not very welcome in a great many places.

[Tom Petroff]

Nice writting Kevin.
You always seem to have a knack for it.
TGP

[Kevin Mienke]

Thank you Tom.

[NNICKB]

The boys and I just spent the weekend in Potter County, Pennsylvania. If you are wondering where this is, just walk into any Verizon cell phone store and look at the map on the wall that says "Verizon's Got You Covered." Potter is big spot on the map that isn't.

Of course, the place isn't what it used to be, now that the good folks in Pittsburgh and Philadelphia have discovered quads, snowmobiles, and mufflerless Harleys. But hey, if you go in the winter, or on a Wednesday, you still pretty much have the place to yourself. Well, except for some of the old woodsmen who pop out here or there, some of whom aren't exactly glad to see YOU either.

I don't know about your state, but much of our rural areas have de-populated in recent years. There are all sorts of spectacular natural areas, much of them public, though largely unknown. And some of it is accessible only on foot, or by canoe.

The point is, the yuppies, the yippies, and the thought police may be here to stay, but there are still places you can go and things you can do. Even when I lived in Los Angeles, California, I was amazed at all the natural beauty and plain old wilderness that was there for the taking, if you were willing to drive but an hour or two. The same is true of New York, Chicago, and most other crowded places.