Soapweed's Ranch
Ramblings |
Pitiful day. Regarding the wind, we can't live with it and we can't live without
it. But as in all things, moderation is the key. With this much wind, the windmills
turn themselves off and don't pump water anyhow.
When my dad was a kid, a fellow headed home from town late one night. He had
stayed entirely too long at a local hooch emporium, and no one had even heard
of a "designated driver" in those days. Besides, he was traveling in his car
all by himself, anyway. The next morning some travelers found his car nosed down
into a pretty substantial creek. The driver was unhurt, but sound asleep with
his head pillowed on the dashboard. They aroused him to see if he was alive,
and he told them what had happened. He said that he was driving towards his ranch,
but some darned fool was pulling a hayrack down the road in the dark and going
too slow. To avoid hitting the hayrack, he had swerved to pass it. Unfortunately
what he thought to be a hayrack in the middle of the road turned out to be the
bridge across the creek.
Here is another Saturday night story. A friend came out of a dancehall to see
the tail-end of a bad fight. The winner was evaporating into the darkness, and
the good Samaritan went to help the loser get up. The guy was in pretty bad shape,
but explained to his benefactor: "I got hit with a two-by-something."
Another neighbor encountered a two-person middle-of-the-afternoon brawl on the
sidewalk in a local town. He broke up the participants, and once again one of
the guys was a clear winner and the other one was hurting pretty bad. My neighbor,
being a kind-hearted gentleman, offered to help patch up the battered party.
He went into the drugstore, which was only a couple stores away, and came back
with some band-aids and other medical supplies. He got the fellow patched up
to the best of his abilities. Just before the men parted ways, the beneficiary
asked, "Can I borrow a dollar?"
Copyright © 2005 Steve
Moreland
All Rights Reserved