Ditch drivers

So I've been catching flack from friends and family about the "used car salesman" posting lately. Apparently, some people are upset about me not describing how I tore the guy's head off and spit down the hole. I am unsure if I should apologize for that or not, but I personally took it as growth on my own part that I didn't unload on him, but point taken; it doesn't make a very good blog posting. Ironic, though, one friend just came up to me and named the place of business without even asking, he knew very well how they do business.

So anyway, today I decided to put the old '49 International truck back into storage, which is a bit of an ordeal, when you have to start out by jumping it, then driving it 30 miles to Abbyville with out even so much as sniff of any kind of brakes, in the rain; without windshield wipers. As I was driving there and my wife following me, I was thinking how some people would frown at me for putting my children at risk by having them in such a vehicle with me, but I thought of my own childhood and realized how much safer my kids were riding in this truck rather some of the trucks we rode around in. My truck may not have brakes or windshield wipers but it did have the advantage of other luxuries, like say; a clutch, and even frivolous accessories such as doors: they even latch! I am not exaggerating when I say that the truck I learned how to drive in was a wheat truck, and I was five years old. The training course was short and the instructor was brief. My dad put it in gear, opened the door, and said: "just drive it around the field in circles while I kick the hay out the back", and jumped out. It wasn't very long later that I suddenly realized that he must have been talking to me, as there wasn't anyone else in the truck anymore, and that if I didn’t move over and start steering, I would end up going through a fence, so I did. That didn't stop me from still going through a fence later, though, but he wasn't even too upset about the truck getting all scratched up. Now that I am a father, I can see the value in having higher expectations than what is typically thought OK. If you tell a child that "you probably won't be able to do this, but try anyway" they most likely won't be able to.

So, anyway we get to Abbyville in one piece and decide to surprise my mom with a family of six for lunch and see if she will rise to the occasion of feeding us out of the blue; she of course does. Our lunch is cut short by a phone call from a hunter from Wichita that frequents all the ditches in the neighborhood, saying that once again, he was stuck. Mom informs me that she or dad has pulled him out no less than at least 10 times before, and that he called last night from Wichita to ask how the roads were. Dad had informed him that they were really bad, and under NO circumstances should he go down this certain one, that he WOULD get stuck if he did. Guess where he was calling from? You got it... the one stretch of road that he was warned away from. I had to ask; what point is there in calling about the condition of the roads if you don't heed any warnings? He must just love the ditches, I guess. But what advantage do the ditches around here have over the ones in Wichita? They had more rain than we did even; why drive 60 miles to get stuck when you can do it in your own back yard? I've known for a long time the fascination that Wichita citizens have with ditches, anytime that there is any little bit of ice on the roads, you'll notice that nearly every one apparently decides that they would rather drive in the ditch. I'm not real sure of the logic behind this, but apparently it works for them.

So I grabbed a couple of nephews and jumped into the 1086 tractor and went to pull him out. After backing up to his pickup, he tied a little sissy knot in the rope attached to it and after I stared at it dubiously for a while, then at him, then at the knot again, I decided to give it a try. It of course just slipped out instantly. My nephews said in harmony, "he should have tied a bow-line". To his credit, he was very ashamed of his horrible attempt at a knot and I really wondered how anyone could make it to manhood without learning one real knot. I wish now that I would have just told one of the nephews to go show the city-slicker how to tie a decent knot, but didn't. We got him out easily enough, and I am very sorry to say to the more morbid of you all that enjoy hearing about me yelling at people that there was none of that. But I did think about how to prevent further episodes such as this. Since he did at least show some shame, I think the best way of treating him is if this ever happens again, I would just say; "Grace, go down and pull that grown man out of the ditch". After all, she IS seven... But I suppose that part of the novelty of driving in ditches is the stories you get to tell when you finally make it back into the City, (“I got soooo stuck yesterday!!!”) so getting pulled out by a seven year old girl rustic would only draw a whole flood of ditch-drivers from Wichita.