Now, I’m always interested in a good story and don’t mind tellin’ one myself. I’ve heard stories of horse wrecks and cow wrecks, car wrecks and wrecks of all kinds that all happened because of poor decisions. I have participated in most of these myself and have seldom enjoyed the outcome although they do make good fodder for stories especially if you have scars to prove them. We were shootin’ the breeze, as they say, the other day, talkin’ of pickups and trailers and drivin’ and such. I had decided to save the story about a loaded trailer, a fifty-five mph speed limit, and a hill with a stoplight at the bottom that went from green to red with no yellow until last as my grand finale. So instead, I told of pulling a trailer through the hills and hollers on a pig trail road in Southeastern Oklahoma. Topping a hill, I kept it to the floor as we headed down the next dip to make sure I had enough speed to make it up the next hill. As we got close to the bottom, I see the road was full of guinea fowl. Brakes and horn were to no avail. It was a downright fowl experience for all involved. Now it was my turn to listen and the story I was told was much the same. A loaded truck, a hill and a holler, petal to the metal only to find a herd of goats in the road. It was time to make a decision. Brakes went into action with the air horn blaring only to realize they were fainting goats. Can’t top that. I’ll save my stoplight story until another time.
At least, that’s the view here from behind the grindstone.
