Sometimes, I just want to scream bloody freak'n murder. It seems all I have to do is jump behind the wheel an' all my ailments will be cured.....poooof, just like that. Change what I'm do'n an' all my ailments will be cured.....pooof, just like that. Come on folks, do you REALLY believe that? Or is it that you just want to give me a false sense of reality?
I've got 13 years of retirement under my belt, of which, 13 of them years have been "on the road". I've had 3 severe back injurys, two of which, put me living on the floor for 6 months....each. You've seen the MRI of my back an' you may recall my trip to Georgia last year for repairs. No repairs were done. But yet, you say all I have to do is "hit the road" an' I'll be like brand spank'n new.
My blog'n for the last two years ain't been bout how much fun I'm hav'n traveling round the county....camp'n, catch'n fish an' see'n the country, it's been bout what ails me. How I feel an' what's hold'n me back from be'n the "old Billy Bob" I was not too long ago.
Ok, I'm done with todays rant.....continue on.
It was many many years ago....me an' Jerry took on a job to change a head gasket on a car for a older feller up the street. As I recall, it was a 1952 or 3 Pontiac. *my memory fails me* The guy flashed 2 $20 bills in our face an' we jump right on it. In lickity split, we tear that car down. Parts all over the yard. We change the head gasket.
Now we got to put that sucker back together, fire it up an' give it a "teenage" test run. Me an' Gerry was pretty good at chang'n points an' condensers in a distributor, but when it come to put'n the distributor an' the plug wires back in the right position for the engine to run, we was rookies. It just go pop putt boom sputt sputt. It don't start. Back then, internet weren't even a word to do any research an' we didn't own no repair manuals. Hit an' miss was our expertise (experience).
Well, we piddle dittle with that thing until the battery is slap dead....t still don't start. Just go pop putt boom sputt sputt. We decide we gonna push start it. Up the street we go, 30 mile a hour (that's the way teenagers do things ya know). The clutch is released.....BAAABOOOOOM...the carburetor is slap on fire. People begin to congregate as me an' Gerry is jump'n up an' down try'n to extinguish this raging fire. One observer says...."throw sand on it" an' he grabs up hands full of sand, toss'n it in the open carburetor. The fire rages on. In the distance I hear what appears to be a fire truck. Oh shit, now we in deep trouble.
A water hose is applied an' the fire is out.....the sounds of a siren is draw'n nearer. Me an' Gerry, as quickly as possible, push that car back down the street. Park it an' haul ass for Uncle Lukes house. Aunt Myrt says....what's all the sirens about...is there a fire"? I don't know nuttin bout it I tell her.
I swear, it weren't 10 minutes later an' there's a knock on the door. Cop cars an' a big ol' fire truck sits in the street. Aunt Myrt say...."I knew it, I knew you two had to be involved". Me an' Gerry was well known bout town.
After sign'n a bunch of papers an' get'n a royal ass chew'n, life in a small town went on. The following day we was back to start'n that car like nuttin had happen. The hood was reinstalled an' the car delivered to it's owner, who knowed nuttin bout the fire an' the ruckus his car had caused. We collected our $20 a piece an' we went look'n for further mischievous endeavors to get into. With me an' Gerry, we didn't have to look far.
As I aged from my younger days, an' I no longer do stupit stuff, the memories from them days bring smiles an' laughter to my life. Man, what it would be like to relive them days just one more time.
Oh wait, bout that camera. It looks like I'm gonna have to get me another one the same as this one. With outside sunshine once in a while, I go to have a viewfinder. The Cannon 1300 an' 1400's have viewfinders. But, my god, the prices have sky rocketed. More research.
I've got 13 years of retirement under my belt, of which, 13 of them years have been "on the road". I've had 3 severe back injurys, two of which, put me living on the floor for 6 months....each. You've seen the MRI of my back an' you may recall my trip to Georgia last year for repairs. No repairs were done. But yet, you say all I have to do is "hit the road" an' I'll be like brand spank'n new.
My blog'n for the last two years ain't been bout how much fun I'm hav'n traveling round the county....camp'n, catch'n fish an' see'n the country, it's been bout what ails me. How I feel an' what's hold'n me back from be'n the "old Billy Bob" I was not too long ago.
Ok, I'm done with todays rant.....continue on.
It was many many years ago....me an' Jerry took on a job to change a head gasket on a car for a older feller up the street. As I recall, it was a 1952 or 3 Pontiac. *my memory fails me* The guy flashed 2 $20 bills in our face an' we jump right on it. In lickity split, we tear that car down. Parts all over the yard. We change the head gasket.
Now we got to put that sucker back together, fire it up an' give it a "teenage" test run. Me an' Gerry was pretty good at chang'n points an' condensers in a distributor, but when it come to put'n the distributor an' the plug wires back in the right position for the engine to run, we was rookies. It just go pop putt boom sputt sputt. It don't start. Back then, internet weren't even a word to do any research an' we didn't own no repair manuals. Hit an' miss was our expertise (experience).
Well, we piddle dittle with that thing until the battery is slap dead....t still don't start. Just go pop putt boom sputt sputt. We decide we gonna push start it. Up the street we go, 30 mile a hour (that's the way teenagers do things ya know). The clutch is released.....BAAABOOOOOM...the carburetor is slap on fire. People begin to congregate as me an' Gerry is jump'n up an' down try'n to extinguish this raging fire. One observer says...."throw sand on it" an' he grabs up hands full of sand, toss'n it in the open carburetor. The fire rages on. In the distance I hear what appears to be a fire truck. Oh shit, now we in deep trouble.
A water hose is applied an' the fire is out.....the sounds of a siren is draw'n nearer. Me an' Gerry, as quickly as possible, push that car back down the street. Park it an' haul ass for Uncle Lukes house. Aunt Myrt says....what's all the sirens about...is there a fire"? I don't know nuttin bout it I tell her.
I swear, it weren't 10 minutes later an' there's a knock on the door. Cop cars an' a big ol' fire truck sits in the street. Aunt Myrt say...."I knew it, I knew you two had to be involved". Me an' Gerry was well known bout town.
After sign'n a bunch of papers an' get'n a royal ass chew'n, life in a small town went on. The following day we was back to start'n that car like nuttin had happen. The hood was reinstalled an' the car delivered to it's owner, who knowed nuttin bout the fire an' the ruckus his car had caused. We collected our $20 a piece an' we went look'n for further mischievous endeavors to get into. With me an' Gerry, we didn't have to look far.
As I aged from my younger days, an' I no longer do stupit stuff, the memories from them days bring smiles an' laughter to my life. Man, what it would be like to relive them days just one more time.
Oh wait, bout that camera. It looks like I'm gonna have to get me another one the same as this one. With outside sunshine once in a while, I go to have a viewfinder. The Cannon 1300 an' 1400's have viewfinders. But, my god, the prices have sky rocketed. More research.
All those comments on your last blog had to do with your depression, so why are you ranting and raving about your other problems? I agree with DD, driving down the road would be good for it.
ReplyDeleteI would imagine Trouble that I DO have other problems other than a case of depression. An' them other problems have soooo much to do with me NOT driving down the road.
DeleteI like to hear your old stories. Makes my younger life seem awful boring.
ReplyDeleteWell Dizzy, you had parents what tole you..."Oh no Richard, I forbid you from do'n that".
DeleteYep, I sure did.
DeleteI know exactly how you feel, BB. Old injuries linger, affect us forever! I'd like to go, go on down the road; it does help depression in me when I've been out and about but now pain and ailments absolutely won't allow it. I think I'll begin saying, "I LOVE BEING OLD". Maybe it could change my situation. - What do you think? haha
ReplyDeleteWith that said Sissy, ha ha, you know exactly my situation. If'n I cain't get some of 'em fixed over in Georgia, there's always the desert.
DeleteSome good ole stories, I have a few too, just can't put them to print right yet, cause to much trouble.
ReplyDelete