Hmmm…whilst wearing a cowboy hat

Originally Posted on September 30, 2004 Last Updated on April 13, 2011

Wowsers. I jus trealized I am too jdrunk to writ ethis.

Unforutnate. Caus my story is grand.

Perhpas on the morrow.

Latesly.

Too. much . fun.

yse.f.

Up Next: 25

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olivia 18 Feb 2005

Tell me a grand story!

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ClickNathan 18 Feb 2005

There are very few interesting people on the road between Crystal Lake and Junction, two small towns along the winding highway that leads from Sacramento California to Lake Tahoe in Nevada. Most of them are sitting in one of two gas stations, dipping donuts into poorly brewed coffee and discussing the weather.

“Cold out today, idn’t it Vern?”

“Yup, Regis, cold out, indeed.”

It’s not that the scene isn’t interesting, no, the picture as seen through the eyes of anyone not born and raised in this town or one similar to it is quite hilarious, very picturesque of the American dream and what it has gotten most people. Vern comes in every morning in his pickup truck, ’86 Ford F150, red on top, sort of a dull yellowed cream on the bottom. Rust holes throughout. He’s had that pickup since he bought it used in 1989 for quite the bargain and it’s seen him through thick and thin, hauled enough grain to and from the local Amway to support him over the last sixteen years and will probably sail him right into retirement. That is, if Vern was ever going to retire. He’s worked so long and hard all of his life that retirement has lost its appeal. He’d be clueless as to what to do with himself.

Not Regis though. Regis rode into town today on his tractor. He doesn’t have a pickup anymore, though he had a similar make and model, built in a similar year, except that his had blue on the top where Vern’s was red. “That’s variety for ya,” he squealed one day, as though he couldn’t believe that a truck company would be so sophisticated as to make the same truck in two different colors. “Hot damn these are crazy times!” he hollared as he drove his new truck away.

But Regis’ truck broke down a few years back, just after he himself retired, and as he was a mechanic all of his life, Regis couldn’t bring himself to fix the thing. That would mean he’d have to come out of retirement.

Just then Jimbo Thomas walked through the front door to but a pack of Pall Malls.

“Cold out there, eh, Jimbo?” Vern shouted.

“Yup, right cold indeed.” Jimbo grabbed his cigarettes and made his way back out the door.

“Well,” Vern turned back to Regis, “why don’t you just take it to Gus then?” Gus was the owner of the only garage left in town now that Regis Parts and Repair closed down.

“I don’t need Gus to fix my truck, dammit, I’m a mechanic myself.”

That was sound logic to the both of them, so they turned back to look at the wall in front of them and continued with their donuts and stale coffee.

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olivia 18 Feb 2005

Nathan, you are the best storyteller I’ve ever known in the entire world.

It felt like I was 5 years old, lying tummy down on the spiky green grass, gazing face in upturned hands, happy ankles smacking together in the air, just listening to you.

I love my grand story. Thank you!

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