I was grill'n pizza. I goes outside to check on it 'cause I don't see no more smoke com'n out from under the lid. What could possibly be wrong that there ain't no smoke? Oh oh, we slap out of propane. It's oven time. The pizza was great.
I don't remember if'n I ever told ya, but I use to not like pizza...not at all. In fack, I couldn't stand the stuff. So's I opened me up a pizza sell'n place. Served carry out medium an' large pizzas, Blue Bell ice cream an' occasionally walnut cake thingys....brownies. Outside was the miniature golf course an' a remote control car race track. Due to own'n a golf course, the business was named "Mr. Putt's Pizza". Business was slow due to location (Cut off Road) an' when it rain, my park'n lot was a mud hole. Funds were tight. But after time, I learn to like pizza, especially mine. *I'm think'n maybe Digiorno Rising Crust Supreme Pizza may have stole my recipe.* "Mr. Putts Pizza" was shut down after find'n my business partner (XX wife) was steal'n big ol' hands full of funds from the till an' when the bill collectors show up, there weren't no cash. But it was fun while it lasted...an' today, I like pizza. So it weren't a total loss.
Don't know if my walk yesterday could be considered a walk or not. It weren't very far. I had to sit down an' I had to sit down right now. So what do ya do when ya got to sit down? Well shoot, ya brew up a big ol' sammich an' ya take up a nap.....what else is there to do?
After writ'n yesterday's story, I go to think'n.....I ain't got many more stories to tell. Not good 'un anyhows. But, there are stories to tell. Like this one I'm gonna tell today.
Ya see, over on the OFM Barney's blog, he had him a little accident. He eat up some pavement. That reminded me of the time.....
Back in the late 50's us boys would jump in a car an' go explor'n....make a adventure out of a simple car outing. We was in cousin Lukie's old 1949 Oldsmobile, five of us. We took off to Robbers Roost located this side the Sierra mountains go'n to Bakersfield, Ca.....a few miles from Walkers Pass in the Sierra Mountains
This weren't the first time I been to Robers Roost, but this time, I was eat'n sand, dirt an' little sticks for lunch.
We spent a few hours climb'n round on that rock outcrop, we jump'n in the car an' do'n brodies (donuts) out in the desert, cruis'n them old dirt roads a hunnert mile a hour.
It was crowded in the car. So's me and....my god, I done forget his name...we climb out on the front fenders. Remember my location....driver side front fender.
Before I go on any further, I got to tell ya bout Luckie. He ain't like none the rest of us boys, he's a sissy, mama's boy....don't do nuttin what might cause a little pain. He do everthing accord'n to the book...we are go'n down a road bout 5 mile a hour. But....sit'n next to him in the front seat is my "hazardous" buddy Gerry. He says to Luckie..."step on it" an' he reaches over his foot on to Luckies foot...the engine roars an' we go'n a hunnert mile a hour. I'm hang'n on for rear life.
Luckie gets skeered. Not for us guys out there on the front fenders, but skeered he might get hurt if'n he crashes into a bush or something like that. He slams on the brakes to a screech'n halt. Me an' what's his name, we keep go'n, fly'n through the air. "Houston, we have launch". My feet is go'n a hunnert mile a hour just like Jesus is run'n lickity split on water.....I hit the ground run'n. I don't run 25 or 30 mile a hour. That old dirt road is eat'n my lunch as I tumble along, arms an' legs frail'n, for a good hunnert feet or more. Come to a stop in one them bushes Luckie was skeered of crash'n into. I'm pull'n pieces of wood out my bare arms, my hands are on fire from try'n to stop on that hard ass dirt road. "Oh my god!!!...I feel blood run'n out my mouth an my nose". I place a hand under my mouth an' nose....shoot, that ain't blood, it's sand. I got me a mough full of sand an' sand up my nostrils.
Bodily damage inspections are made. Gerry is laugh'n his ass off. I'm good to go for another day....after I heal. But I ain't rid'n on that freak'n fender no more.
I mentioned Robbers Roost a couple time in the past.....like the time I went mountain lion hunt'n with a single shot .22 cal. rifle....at night. Sane people don't do that. Only adventurous fools do.
Nuttin has changed. My depression is on edge, I hurt like hell in that damn right hip an' a little swell'n in the feet again this morn'n. An' I got a ton of things to do. Damn, 1000 miles to Georgia....will I make it?
I don't remember if'n I ever told ya, but I use to not like pizza...not at all. In fack, I couldn't stand the stuff. So's I opened me up a pizza sell'n place. Served carry out medium an' large pizzas, Blue Bell ice cream an' occasionally walnut cake thingys....brownies. Outside was the miniature golf course an' a remote control car race track. Due to own'n a golf course, the business was named "Mr. Putt's Pizza". Business was slow due to location (Cut off Road) an' when it rain, my park'n lot was a mud hole. Funds were tight. But after time, I learn to like pizza, especially mine. *I'm think'n maybe Digiorno Rising Crust Supreme Pizza may have stole my recipe.* "Mr. Putts Pizza" was shut down after find'n my business partner (XX wife) was steal'n big ol' hands full of funds from the till an' when the bill collectors show up, there weren't no cash. But it was fun while it lasted...an' today, I like pizza. So it weren't a total loss.
Don't know if my walk yesterday could be considered a walk or not. It weren't very far. I had to sit down an' I had to sit down right now. So what do ya do when ya got to sit down? Well shoot, ya brew up a big ol' sammich an' ya take up a nap.....what else is there to do?
After writ'n yesterday's story, I go to think'n.....I ain't got many more stories to tell. Not good 'un anyhows. But, there are stories to tell. Like this one I'm gonna tell today.
Ya see, over on the OFM Barney's blog, he had him a little accident. He eat up some pavement. That reminded me of the time.....
Back in the late 50's us boys would jump in a car an' go explor'n....make a adventure out of a simple car outing. We was in cousin Lukie's old 1949 Oldsmobile, five of us. We took off to Robbers Roost located this side the Sierra mountains go'n to Bakersfield, Ca.....a few miles from Walkers Pass in the Sierra Mountains
We spent a few hours climb'n round on that rock outcrop, we jump'n in the car an' do'n brodies (donuts) out in the desert, cruis'n them old dirt roads a hunnert mile a hour.
It was crowded in the car. So's me and....my god, I done forget his name...we climb out on the front fenders. Remember my location....driver side front fender.
Before I go on any further, I got to tell ya bout Luckie. He ain't like none the rest of us boys, he's a sissy, mama's boy....don't do nuttin what might cause a little pain. He do everthing accord'n to the book...we are go'n down a road bout 5 mile a hour. But....sit'n next to him in the front seat is my "hazardous" buddy Gerry. He says to Luckie..."step on it" an' he reaches over his foot on to Luckies foot...the engine roars an' we go'n a hunnert mile a hour. I'm hang'n on for rear life.
Luckie gets skeered. Not for us guys out there on the front fenders, but skeered he might get hurt if'n he crashes into a bush or something like that. He slams on the brakes to a screech'n halt. Me an' what's his name, we keep go'n, fly'n through the air. "Houston, we have launch". My feet is go'n a hunnert mile a hour just like Jesus is run'n lickity split on water.....I hit the ground run'n. I don't run 25 or 30 mile a hour. That old dirt road is eat'n my lunch as I tumble along, arms an' legs frail'n, for a good hunnert feet or more. Come to a stop in one them bushes Luckie was skeered of crash'n into. I'm pull'n pieces of wood out my bare arms, my hands are on fire from try'n to stop on that hard ass dirt road. "Oh my god!!!...I feel blood run'n out my mouth an my nose". I place a hand under my mouth an' nose....shoot, that ain't blood, it's sand. I got me a mough full of sand an' sand up my nostrils.
Bodily damage inspections are made. Gerry is laugh'n his ass off. I'm good to go for another day....after I heal. But I ain't rid'n on that freak'n fender no more.
I mentioned Robbers Roost a couple time in the past.....like the time I went mountain lion hunt'n with a single shot .22 cal. rifle....at night. Sane people don't do that. Only adventurous fools do.
Nuttin has changed. My depression is on edge, I hurt like hell in that damn right hip an' a little swell'n in the feet again this morn'n. An' I got a ton of things to do. Damn, 1000 miles to Georgia....will I make it?
When I was young and fearless, In the winter I use to get on skis, tie a robe on my buddies rear bumper, and hope the road is snow packed the whole way. Yippy Yi Yay. . . and away we went. Loved it!!
ReplyDeleteNO NO NO Dizzy, ride'n on a set of snow skis has absolutely nuttin to do with today's story.
DeleteBut I do give ya credit for do'n it....
DeleteI never knew you owned a pizza place...see you have lots of stories yet to tell.
ReplyDeleteOwning a pizza place is fun, but a lot of work, eventually all good things come to an end.
ReplyDelete