Crater Lake Blue, with Glenn P. Hebert
Hi, folks. My name is Crater Lake Blue, but
you can call me Blue for short-like. I'm here t' tell you about
th' latest places I carried Mommy Marilyn an' Daddy Glenn. I call
'em Mommy Marilyn an' Daddy Glenn 'cause they adopted me when I wuz no
more'n a few months old. Okay, technic'ly they bought me, but I
know they saved me from a hard life, prob'bly with kids climbin' all
over my innards, and tearin' my nice cloth 'pholstery, and breakin' my
cupholders, and fightin' 'bout who sleeps in my crow's nest, and
spillin' drinks, and droppin' food. I tell ya, it gives me th'
willies jus' thinkin' about it! Besides, Mommy Marilyn an' Daddy
Glenn took real gud care of
my older sister, White Magic, before she started fallin' apart
prematurely, you might say. They loved 'er so much they 'dopted
me when I wuz wet behind th' ears and just off th' boat from my birth
plant in Germ'ny. I wanted t' see th' west'rn United States of
America. Yessir, tha's me. Born t' roam.
That's how come I landed here in Texas. Ain't
no better base from which t' start explorin' th' west than Texas.
Why, a gud chunk of it's here
anyways. Tha's also th' reason why I don't talk like my kinfolk
in Germ'ny. But there's plenty o' kinfolk I sound like right here
in Texas. Ancestral kinfolk, you might say. Lots and lots a
ancestral kinfolks helped build this great state. 'Course, their
DNA's a mite dif'rent, since they're people and I come from th'
hardworkin' dependable line of vans for people. My fam'ly name is
Volkswagen an', before Mommy Marilyn an' Daddy Glenn renamed me, I wuz
christened Eurovan, as were hunnerds an' thousan's o' my kin.
I promised t' tell you about Mommy Marilyn an' Daddy
Glenn's latest 'venture. But first, I just hav'ta mention some of
th' other great times we had 'cause o' me. (It ain't
bragging. I carried 'em safe inside me ever'where they wanted t'
go - 'cept over oceans and stuff. If God hada meant for cars t'
fly or swim, I'd 'a done that, too, 'cause I'd do anythin' I could for
Mommy Marilyn an' Daddy Glenn.) I got my name, Crater Lake Blue,
on one of our first 'ventures after I wuz adopted. I wuz settin'
beside Crater Lake in Oregon, see, when Mommy Marilyn looked at me,
then she looked at that bright blue lake, then she shot me another
look, and declared my skin color th' 'xact same shade o' that dadburned
lake. Leave it t' a woman t' notice stuff like that. Since
then, we been all over this great country, mostly out west, but we seen
most o' th' other country, too. Even been t' Canada a couple o'
times. (Them Canadians sure talk funny, eh?)
Okay, I done gabbed long enough. Now I got
some reportin' t' do. Didja know I'm studyin' t' be one o' them
high-fallutin' journalists? Well, I am, and this, by gosh, is my
firs' ever by-line. Save it. It'll be worth a ton o' gold
one o' these here days. (Remember, it ain't braggin' if it's
true.) Couldn't decide on no psuenodym, sudemym, pseudony, fake
name, so I borro'ed Daddy Glenn's full name off'r him. He won't
mind, less I write somethin' ubnokshu, obnoxshu, obnok, something in
bad taste. Okay... Okay... Here goes nuthin'!
Mommy Marilyn an' Daddy Glenn wanted t' leave at
seven in th' A.M. on Fry-dy, July th' 17th, two thousan' and nine,
'cause they figgered out th' traffic goin' south through Austin's not
too bad at that time, an' they could prob'ly save themselves some time
by takin' 290 west instead o' 29. I wuz 'bout half full with
their gear and rarin' t' go. They got up in time, but still had a
lotta stuff t' do. Th' upshot wuz that we couldn't get goin' till
near nine. At that time, traffic south down Austin-way is not
somethin' t' brag about, so Mommy Marilyn took th' reins and we loped
on up t' Texas 29. It wuz all th' same t' me. U.S. of A.
290 and Texas 29 are both purty roads in these parts. But takin'
Texas 29 excited Daddy Glenn, th' reason being Texas 29 runs right by
Coopers Barbecue in Llano, and Daddy Glenn saw a way t' spice up th'
menu by gettin' some brisket, beans, and cobbler t' go. Y'see,
they always feed me well with that Exxon Plus gasoline, but they had
decided t' camp th' first four nights, and camp light! They didn'
even bring no stove. They wuz gonna eat cold pork & beans for
four nights runnin'. I'm tough, but that mighta even got t'
me. I think Daddy Glenn might'a been feelin' sim'lar. Well,
we hit Cooper's 'bout ten twen'y-five in th' A.M. an' seen they wuz
openin' up at 10:30. Perfect. Mommy Marilyn grabbed th'
stuff, paid, and we got out o' there lickety split.
I-10 west o' Kerrville's gotta be one of my
favo-right highways. I can gallop along at 80 miles an hour and
hardly ever hav'ta worry about passin' another car. Th' scen'ry
is right purty, too. Yeah, I know there's them that likes their
tall trees crowded so thick 'longside th' road a body can hardly
breathe, but I'm partial t' space. And deserts can be real purty,
too, if you got th' right 'preciation. Funny thing, though.
Mommy Marilyn an' Daddy Glenn noticed th' so-called desert wuz greener
than th' land 'round Austin (not countin' th' places there where people
water lawns and such.) Tha's how bad th' drought's been 'round
th' Texas hill country. And tha's partly why we're hankerin' t'
spend some time in Caleeforneea and Col'rado right now.
At Ft. Stockton, Mommy Marilyn had t' hol' them
reins tight, 'cause I had a hankerin' t' head south an' mosey a while
in Big Bend National Park, what Mommy Marilyn an' Daddy Glenn swear's
th' Center O' Th' Un'verse. At Van Horn, TX, we cut up north t'
Guad'lupe Mountains National Park. Didya know that park has th'
highest point in Texas? Yessir, it sure 'nough does, and it's
called Guad'lupe Peak - eight thousan', seven hunnerd, forty-nine feet
up there. Mommy Marilyn wuz itchin' t' climb that sucker.
Th' mountains 'longside th' highway were gettin' purtier all th' time
as we headed north. Then we saw th' Guad'lupes themselves.
Oh, my! Buet-tee-full! Mommy Marilyn spurred me on 'til we
foun' a gud place t' bed down
in th' campgroun' tha's 'bout fif'y-eight hunnerd feet 'bove sea
level. While I rested after a gud
long ride, they ooh'd an' ah'd 'bout that brisket an' beans an'
cobbler. Looked gud,
but I know'd it'd upset my stomach. I'll stick t' that gud ol'
Exxon Plus gasoline, if it's all th' same t' you. After that,
Mommy Marilyn an' Daddy Glenn crawled int' my shelter for some early
shut eye. Later, it rained gud
'bout thirty minutes. Don't that beat all? Havin' t' go t'
th' desert t' get rained on?
Next mornin' Mommy Marilyn an' Daddy Glenn were up
at six an', after th' two wolfed down breakfast, Mommy Marilyn lit out
for th' peak. Daddy Glenn stayed with me, readin' on 'is
new-fangled 'lectronic book reader called a Kindle, and sippin' 'is
water time t' time. I wuz willin' t' let 'im listen t' what we
could catch on my radio, but he wuz too worried 'bout my energy gettin'
low. Mommy Marilyn an' Daddy Glenn are consid'rate like
that. When th' few trees 'round could hardly shade 'im no more, I
wuz ready with my open hatchback. I love takin' care of Mommy
Marilyn an' Daddy Glenn. 'Long 'bout three, I noticed Daddy Glenn
lookin' at 'is watch right reg'lar. Mommy Marilyn'd been gone
purty near eight hours. Th' trail wuz eight an' a half miles
round trip, an' we both knowed Mommy Marilyn always hiked fast'r than
one mile an hour. I started gettin' a bit uneasy, myself. I
also seen that Daddy Glenn had done drunk all 'is water, too.
Would've offered some radiat'r water, but somethin' give me th' idea
that wouldn't settle in 'is stomach too well.
Glenn sure reads alot!
for th' peak.
Yahoo!!! There's Mommy Marilyn!
Uh-oh. She's movin' a mite slow. Real slow, matter o'
fack. I hear 'er and Daddy Glenn talkin' now. Took 'er
three hours t' climb nearly three thousan' feet and FIVE hours t' get
down. 'Er knee started hurtin' within a half mile o' startin'
back down. It got stiff? She could only take four inch
steps? Oh, poor Mommy Marilyn! Fill up Daddy Glenn's
water an' come t' me. Lemme hol' you while you take a nap and
rest. There. You'll feel better soon. I heard Daddy
Glenn suggess you might wanna get a hikin' stick. Please 'member
that in case other people suggess it. I know how thin's sometimes
need t' be heard more than once 'fore they hit th' radar.
Shhh. She's 'sleep.
out o'er El Capitan!
Marilyn sure 'nough
reached th' top!
Well, folks, Mommy Marilyn did feel better after I
comforted her. She and Daddy Glenn walked 'round a bit, ate their
pork & beans and canned fruit, then hit th' hay early again under
my pr'tection. Can't wait for tomorrow. I get t' limber up
and carry 'em t' someplace called Chiricahua National Monument in
It's th' next day, Sundy, and its hot again.
Hot's it been at home in Pflug'rville. We're gettin' near
Chiricahua National Monument, which is in mountains (th' campgroun's
'bout fif'y-four hunnerd feet high), so it should start coolin'
off. Only, it ain't! We're almost there and my tires are
darn near blistered th' road's so hot. 'Bout ready t' go back t'
Texas. We're in Bonita Campgroun' now an' there's big trees all
'round. So why's it hotter than it wuz at Pine Canyon Campgroun'
in th' Guad'lupes? There's a breeze, and another. Gettin'
kinda dark-like. Could it be? I smell rain!
Yahoo!!! Uh-oh! Daddy Glenn done got out o' my pr'tective
interior. Nein, nein, nein!
Now, why'd you go and do a fool thing like that Daddy Glenn. It's
gonna rain! With thunder and lightnin', e'en. Uh-oh.
I ain't bein' disr'spectful, Daddy Glenn. Jus' that I got so
worked up 'bout lookin' after you. No, sir. Won't happen
again. Huh? Open my hatchback? Oh, why sure!
You bet. I'll shelter you from th' rain anytime. ('Tween
you and me, pardners, Daddy Glenn ain't as dumb as he lets on. I
think he pulls my tire a lot, fig'ratively speakin'-like.)
Well, pardners, it did rain pretty gud, but Daddy Glenn stayed purty
dry under my hatchback readin' 'is thing-a-ma-jig. He did get a
mite wet 'round th' edges, but said that felt gud. Felt gud t' me, too. That rain
cooled thin's right down. Mommy Marilyn wuz under my pr'tection,
but she wuz worried someone might see Daddy Glenn outside (even though
I had 'im cov'red) and think she wuz 'busin' him. Daddy Glenn
rides in a wheelcheer, so strangers might 'sume he needs more help 'n
he does, speshly city slickers. They don't realize Mommy Marilyn
an' Daddy Glenn love each other t' death an' neither would do th' other
any harm. They're both real inapendent, though, and gen'ly do
what they wanna. If Daddy Glenn feels like gettin' a little wet
on a hot day, by gum, he's gonna do it.
When th' rain stopped, Mommy Marilyn an' Daddy Glenn
walked th' campgroun' from one end t' th' other. Daddy Glenn
thought he wuz helpin' Mommy Marilyn get exercise when she wuz
really testin' 'er knee t' see if she could hike t'morrow. Then
they unhitched me and we took th' scenic drive.
|Lookin' at stone colums.
|Now, how's tha'
|View from Masai Point.
Daddy Glenn says these Chiricahua Mountains (least
th' upper two thousan' feet) are volcanic ash deposits welded t'gether
by th' pressure of stuff that used t' be on top o' 'em.
Rhyolite's th' name, erosion's th' game, see. When th' stuff up
top wuz eroded 'way, th' rhyolite rocks started erodin' in funny ways
'cause they had these cracks (both horizontal and vertical) runnin' all
through 'em. Now, you got your columns, your pillars, your
balanced rocks, even a few windows, all over th' place. They were
right close t' th' road, too, speshly for th' first part of th'
drive. Kep' my eye out for rocks on th' road, I'm tellin'
you. At th' end o' th' road is a buet-tee-full spot called Masai
Point. You can see for miles in almost any direction. Some
o' them columns are so thick and lined up so ord'ly, they look like
solder batallions marchin' down th' hills.
There were picnic tables here, so Mommy Marilyn an' Daddy Glenn decided
t' eat dinner
while th' sun set behind some more storm clouds. They had th'
same thin' for dinner they had last night. Sure am glad they'd
already fed me.
column o' rholite.
Marilyn hada t' go down there.
Guess Mommy Marilyn's knee passed th' test, 'cause
they were both up early Mondy mornin' and Mommy Marilyn caught a
shuttle that took 'er t' near where she an' Daddy Glenn ate th'
you-know-what on Sundy night. From there, she hiked back t'
camp. Daddy Glenn and I waited for 'er in camp, and you can guess
what he did. I love my Daddy Glenn, but he really ain't much
comp'ny when he gets t' readin' 'is books, 'lectronic or
otherwise. Sometimes I hear 'im laugh, but he don't think 'bout
lettin' me in on th' joke. Sometimes I hear 'im sniffle, but I
don't wanna know what tha's about no ways. When she got back,
Mommy Marilyn said it wuz a real gud
hike - it wuz real purty without hurtin' 'er knee. Thin's wuz
kinda slow-like th' rest o' th' day. It did rattle me a bit when
I saw 'em eatin' cold pork & beans and canned fruit th' third night
runnin'. They're so tough, you gotta 'mire 'em, though.
Leastways, I do. T'morrow night we're stayin' in a hotel, so I
s'pose they won't be eatin' so sparse-like.
stayin' 'way from that one!
Tuesdy, th' twenty-firs'. Time t' make
tracks. Headed for Kingman, Arizonee, via Phoenix t'day.
Usu'ly take I-40 'cross New Mex'co and Arizonee, but this time we're
takin' I-10 and we'll cut up t' Kingman on U. S. of A. 93. Don't
range on 'em parts too offen. Tha's what I like 'bout Mommy
Marilyn an' Daddy Glenn. They keep thin's interestin'. And
dat's gud, as my 'cestors
Leavin' west of Phoenix, there were no freeways -
just a lon' stretch o' traff'ck lights. I tell ya, fella
trav'lers, that weren't fun at all. Worstest part o' th'
trip. I'd be tickled pink when Mommy Marilyn spurred it t' me,
only t' haf t' stop at 'nother light! A body'd think they 'ould
(Whatcha call it?) time 'em so's we kep' movin'. Remin' me t'
write an ed'torial t' th' Phoenix papers, will ya? Anyways, when
we got t' th' open country 'gain, it wuz real nice. Big rollin'
hills some 'ould call mountains. Ev'ry hill, seems like, wuz
outfitted in sa-wah-rows 'r choy-ya. Don't think any had both
kinds o' cactus's on 'em, though. That wuz strange-like.
'Peared it might have somethin' t' do with elevation. Least,
tha's what Mommy Marilyn an' Daddy Glenn thought. I dunno.
That land wuz jus' purty t' me, 'speshly when we went over deep washes.
The hotel wuz right next t' my feedstop, but I had
t' wait 'til th' next mornin' t' eat. Now, why'd Mommy Marilyn
an' Daddy Glenn do somethin' like that? I'm not complainin', but
it seems kinda inconsid'rate, 'spechly since I had t' carry 'em t'
Mattina's Eye-talian Rest'rant after they cleaned themselves up.
Makes me chuckle t' think 'bout how they smelt after four nights
a-campin'. But they gud
folks, hones'. Jus' wish't they hadna a talked 'bout how gud that eye-talian food wuz when I
carried 'em back t' th' Hol'day Inn 'Spress.
They musta been sorry for not feedin' me that night,
'cause they filled my belly gud
bright and early next mornin'. AN', they didn't ride me hard that
day! We jus' went 'bout six an' a half hours t' Tehach'pi,
Caleeforneea (as th' gov'nator says). 'Course, I got a mite
perturb'd after we got there an' I carried 'em t' eat cuban food at Don
Juan's Grille. That didn' bug me. What chapped my tailpipe
wuz that there wuz this RV Show next t' th' Hol'day Inn 'Spress, see,
an' after I carried 'em back there jus' as safe an' gentle as you
please, Mommy Marilyn an' Daddy Glenn went LOOKIN' AT RVs! USED
RVs, AT THAT!!! I never heard o' such foolishness. Mommy
Marilyn e'en looked inside some and told Daddy Glenn 'bout 'em (since
none o' em welcome 'im int' their very beings like I do.) I tell
ya, folks, it wuz humilliatin'! This weren't th' first time they
done that. Fine'ly, just like th' other times, they come t' their
senses an' realized they couldn't do no better'n me. I eat less,
cost less, am reli'ble, don't need no special storage, can squeeze int'
tight spots, and I love 'em, 'xasperatin's they can be at times.
'Least, they always realize what they got in time. Still, I'm not
complainin' - jus' reportin' th' facts, like a hard workin',
high-fallutin' journalis' oughta. I reckon I shouldn't oughta get
so worked up 'bout such thin's, though. Bad for my oil pressure.
When we dropped down in Caleeforneea's central
valley next mornin' th' smog wuzn't bad's it usu'ly is. That wuz
nice. Before hittin' th' valley proper, though, Mommy Marilyn
reined me in at Murray Fam'ly Farms fruit stan' and got some peach's
and chaireys for 'er Momma (as well as Mommy Marilyn an' Daddy
Glenn). When it's not winter, we usu'ly stop there. After
that, wild horses could'na kep' us from Sacr'menta (or Sacto, as Mommy
Marilyn an' Daddy Glenn call it).
Pulled in th' parkin' lot 'bout 4:00, 'bout a hour
before we were s'posed to. I knew Mommy Marilyn an' Daddy Glenn
wuz pinin' t' get there, so's I give it my all. They took lots o'
stuff outa me an' went on in with Mommy Marilyn's Momma. Hope she
don't mind, but I'm gonna call 'er by 'er giv'n name, Momma Doris, t'
save time from here forward. (If you do mind, Mommy Marilyn's
Momma, holler at me an' I'll print one o' them there corrections.)
Now, th' parkin' lot Mommy Marilyn an' Daddy Glenn
stabled me at wuz purty nice. Had lotsa trees keepin' me
comf'table all day, tho' they got messy sometimes. Only thin' I
didn't like wuz havin' two people come out ever day, ever day, and
smoke cig'rettes right near me. But my, wuz they cute! Both
o' 'em were in their seven'ies and could'na kep' their hands off'n each
other if they'd been hog-tied! Few days later, I heard 'em tell
Mommy Marilyn their story. Th' woman hada stroke and moved where
Momma Doris stays now back in Feb'ry. My windshiel' got
moist-like when she tol' Mommy Marilyn she 'spected t' find a corner t'
crawl up in an' wait t' die. I jus' hate hearin' 'bout people
givin' up. But then, th' man hada stroke an' moved in in
May. They met, an', would'n'ya know it, they started
sparkin'. An' I mean SPARKIN'. They say th' staff don't
know what room t' take th' meds t' in th' mornin's! If that don't
beat all. Uh-oh! Don't know if I can r'port on that.
My ed'tors could black it out. But, by juniper, it's a cute
story, ain't it? An', it's 'sclusive!
I'm gettin' ahead o' myse'f a mite, but I jus' gotta
tell ya 'bout this place. Name's Atria El Camino Gardens,
see. Th' Atria's on accoun' tha's th' nationwide company that
owns it. They got places for people wantin' t' live
inapendent-like, like Momma Doris, and they got places for people
needin' a mite more help, like th' smokin' couple (smokin' more'n one
way, I should add. Hee, hee!) They got all kinds o' activ'ties,
like trips, all kinda e'ercise (includin' somethin' called Sit
Tye-Chee), games (includin' WII bowlin'), socials, and whatnot.
Cal'ndar's chock full o' 'em. They got jobs for res'dents, if
they wan'em, like waterin' 'tic'lar plants, helpin' new people get
use'ta th' place, etc. and etc. Res'dents can cook grub in their
own room or eat in th' dinin' room, which is included in th' price
res'dents pay t' stay there. It don't cost too much,
neither. Momma Doris really's taken a shine t' it.
Mommy Marilyn an' Daddy Glenn liked it, too,
'speshly when they found out they could stay there for fiffy-five
dollars a night, with three meals a day included. They got a two
room 'partment, with a washroom and a nice kitch'n. Better'n
campin', an' much cheaper'n a Hol'day Inn 'Spress. Th' way I
heard it, they wuz in hog's heav'n. Daddy Glenn found out Atria's
got places like this all over and tol' Mommy Marilyn they could travel
all ov'r cheap-like by visitin' folks livin' in 'em. When th'
folks claim not t' know Mommy Marilyn an' Daddy Glenn, all's they gotta
say is, "Oh, Aunt Bea, I'm sure you'll remember us later." That
Daddy Glenn can be a cut-up, I tell ya.
Okay, back t' my nar'tive. Tha's bas'cly what
this report is. I ain't ready for no invest'gative journalism
yet. Mommy Marilyn an' Daddy Glenn unloaded me some an' went in
with Momma Doris an' got sit'ated. When they got refreshed-like,
they came back and I carried 'em, includin' Momma Doris, t' yet another
Eye-talian restaurant, where they met Mommy Marilyn's brother and
sister-in-law, Mark and Marcia. Momma Doris wuz so tickled
ever'one wuz together, she paid for th' whole kit an' k'boodle.
Now I'm a purty gud
high-fallutin' journalis' 'cause I got keen pow'rs o'
obse'vation. Here's an 'xample. When they come outa that
Eye-talian restaurant, I heard Mommy Marilyn tellin' 'bout how 'er knee
got real stiff comin' down from Guad'lupe Peak. What d'ya think
Mark and Marcia told her? Both o' 'em. They both said, and
this here's a direck quote-like, "You should get a hikin' stick."
BAM!!! They wuz th' sec'nd and third people t' tell 'er so (Daddy
Glenn being th' firstest, if you 'member), so guess what hit Mommy
Marilyn's radar screen? You got it - a hikin' stick. They
e'en rec'mended one and told where she could buy it. See how
'stute I am. Pick up little stories all th' time 'cause I listen
The next day I could'na done nuthin' but listen and
'serve, since Mommy Marilyn and Momma Doris went shopping - IN MOMMA
DORIS'S CAR!!! Tha's right, pardners, I wuz left stabled with th'
smokin' couple. For th' life of me... After I done carried
'er safe and sound from Pflug'rville t' Sacto... Why'd Mommy
Marilyn wanna do somethin' like that? Yeah, Momma Doris wanted
Mommy Marilyn t' check 'er drivin' in 'er car, arright. What
kinda lame 'scuse's that, though. Th' only gud thin' 'bout th' deal wuz that
Mommy Marilyn come back with a hikin' stick. Daddy Glenn weren't
much help, neither - readin' an' checkin' th' stock market all day.
On Saturdy, July th' twen'y-fi'th, Mommy Marilyn an'
Daddy Glenn had ANOTHER fandango for their six'ieth birt'days an'
twen'y-fif'h an'vers'ry. Now, I'll admit here an' now, I like t'
cut loose at pardies, but, come on! Three? In one
year? Cel'bratin' th' same thin'? E'en I tone it down mor'n
that. They jus'ified it by claimin' th' Caleeforneea rel'tives
couldn't atten' th' firs' two. Whate'er. Th' rel'tives came
an' I heard they hada gud
time, eatin' steak, an' fish, an' cake 'til their bellies 'bout bloowed
up. Atria give 'em a big ol' sheet cake for free. It wuz so
big Mommy Marilyn and Momma Doris moseyed from room t' room after th'
pardy givin' 'way cake. They made lotsa friends that day, sure's
|Best Mommy an' Daddy
xin th' world, I tell ya!
Marcia, Mommy Marilyn and Daddy Glenn's
sister'n-law, invited Mommy Marilyn t' go hikin' Sundy, so I carried
ever'one t' th' fam'ly cab'n in th' mountains ('cept Marcia 'cause she
met us there.) While Mommy Marilyn and Marcia went off t' another
mountain, Daddy Glenn read (again) outside, and Momma Doris did thin's
inside an' outside, an' I kinda lazed 'round. It wuz cool an' th'
breeze smelt of pine. I like wide open spaces where I can run,
but sittin' 'neath those tall pine trees 'bout thirty seven hunnerd
foot in e'evation, can be real peaceful-like.
Mommy Marilyn came
back beamin' 'bout that hikin' stick. Daddy Glenn, he wuz beamin'
'bout it, too. Ever'body wuz a-beamin'. After a gud dinn'r an' a gander at Mark's
woodpile at th' cabin, we headed back down t'
th' valley. What a fine day that wuz.
|Momma Doris, Mommy
an' Daddy Glenn by Mark's woodpile.
On Mondy mornin' I carried Mommy Marilyn and Momma
Doris t' shop for, whadaya call it?, a La-Z-Boy. I hear they real
comf'table. We checked out some swatches and skeedaddled back t'
Momma Doris's place. After lunch, Momma Doris, Mommy Marilyn, and
Daddy Glenn looked at all th' swatches and fine'ly picked a
color. Then I carried ever'one downtown where they got t' go on a
scenic boat ride. They didn't 'llow cars (though I preten' I'm a
horse), so I hada stay at a hitchin' post in th' blazin' sun.
Goldarned, it got hot that day! They come back 'round two hours
later talkin' 'bout how interestin' and purty that boat ride wuz.
Said they saw a sunk boat been there since 'bout World War II an' three
bridges, includin' one that looked like some famous bridge in London
name o' the Tower Bridge. Called it th' Gateway T'
Sacr'mento. They saw a waterfall, too, but it wuzn't 'xactly
natual. It come out the water treatment plant after bein' cleaned
up. I didn't care a lick 'bout none o' that, though. I
jus' wanted 'em t' ride me back t' my shady parkin' lot. I begged
But my pleas fell on ears that wuz deaf, seems
like. They walked right past me int' an air-condition candy
sto'. What's worse, seems like Mommy Marilyn an' Daddy Glenn
spent hours pickin' out all kinds o' what you call salt water
taffy. They saun'ered outa there with a sack o' candy big 'nough
t' choke two horses an' a cow. Cos' 'em more'n twen'y-one
dollars. Why'd they go an' do that? I coulda swore I could
arready feel th' stick'ness on my clean upholstery. Leastways, we
were headed for th' shady parkin' lot now.
I can't hol' it back no more. Ever since we
hit Sacr'mento Mommy Marilyn an' Daddy Glenn been eatin' like a queen
and a king. (Well, they are like roy'lty t' me, but you get my
drift.) Meanwhile, I been off my feed. Ain't no Exxon Plus
t' be scared up out here. Makin' me cranky. Mommy Marilyn
an' Daddy Glenn do their best, findin' my secon' choice, Mobil, when
they can, but mostly I havta eat thin's like Chevron, an' Arco, an'
Valero. You ever eat that stuff? Don't bother.
Thin's've sure turned 'round since we started this road trip. I
wuz eatin' high on th' hog while Mommy Marilyn an' Daddy Glenn were
gettin' by on cold pork & beans and canned fruit. Now, their
eatin' gud and I'm starvin'!
Tuesdy wuz kinda laid back-like. In th'
aft'noon I did carry Mommy Marilyn, Momma Doris, and Daddy Glenn t' th'
Crocker Art Muse'm in Sacr'mento, where they oohed and ahhed at some o'
that art stuff. Meantime, they foun' a nice, shady hitchin' post
for me. Kinda embarrassin', 'cause I think they mighta heard me
complainin' 'bout th' heat yest'dy. I should'na made 'em think I
felt 'bused. They really are 'bout th' best parents a body could
want. I think they had themselfs a purty good time, but I did
hear Mommy Marilyn complainin' they still had th' paintin' o' th'
Boston Creme Pies hid away. My guess is that some'un ate it.
Wednesdy I got t' spin my wheels good. Carried
all three t' Gold'n Gate National Recr'ation Area by San
Francisco. It wuz purty foggy an' cold there, too. Not that
I'm complainin'. Just statin' facks, like a gud high-fallutin' journalis'
oughta. Firstest, we parked catywompus in a parkin' lot an' them
three ate th' gud grub Atria
El Camino Gardens fixed 'fore we left. We parked catywompus so's
nobody'd get in our way while we watched some fool surfers. They
could only "catch a wave" (I think they call it) for fifteen or
twen'y yards. Seems like tha's an awful lotta effort for a cheap
thrill. Don't they know 'bout racin' hot rods? Less effort,
more thrills. I res' my case.
Then we mosey'd on up th' hill t' th' Marine Mammal
Rescue Center. They got o'er 90 seals and sea lines at th' place
right now. Mommy Marilyn asked why so many and they said lotsa
'em are starvin' 'cause they can't find no food on 'count o' El
Niño wuz warmin' up th' waters too much. Now, pardners, I
been joshin' 'bout starvin' 'cause I wuz missin' my fav'rite foods, but
I had t' feel sorry for these cute critters. They couldn't find
no food at all! Mommy Marilyn, Momma Doris, and Daddy Glenn
watched 'em bein' fed but, while they watched, one o' th' seals wuz
rolled out on a stretch'r - dead. Poor thin'. Mommy Marilyn
got t' watch th' necrup... nacropse,,, dead animal bein' cut op'n an'
'xamined. That woulda turned my moto' oil freezin' cold, I tell
As we were headin' for Sausalito, where them three
could stuff their faces again, we were drivin' 'longside th' ocean when
th' fog started liftin'. Didn' lift all th' way, but I saw th'
one an' only Gold'n Gate Bridge with th' city of San Fran in back o'
it. That wuz a mighty fine sight, I tell ya. Seems like th'
bridge and th' city wuz jus' settin' there 'tween th' water an'
th' high fog. Fine'ly, all three o' 'em seen it t'gether an'
Mommy Marilyn jerked them reins t' th' right so's she could take
pitchers. Good thin' I wuz 'spectin' that jerk, on 'ccount o'
havin' seen it
Golden Gate firs'!!!
After they ate in Sausalito, while watchin' pel'cans
dive for their grub, I carried 'em back t' Sacr'mento. Momma
Doris wanted t' stop at Hedrick's Fruit Stan' in Dixon 'long th'
way. Since we stopped, Mommy Marilyn decided t' get some
blackber'es for cousins Kathi and Jim, who'd we be visitin' in a couple
o' days. Funny thin' 'bout that stop. Three days after we'd
done got back home, Mommy Marilyn an' Daddy Glenn heard a NPR reporter
talkin' 'bout how gud th'
fruit wuz at Hedrick's Fruit Stan' in Dixon, Caleeforneea. I done
scooped ya, son! I know I'm a high-fallutin' journalis'
now! Don't that jus' pop your 'spenders?
Thursdy we wuz gettin' ready t' make tracks back
eastways, so thin's wuz low-key-like. Mommy Marilyn did some
laundry, and Daddy Glenn did what he always does with free time -
read. Daddy Glenn must be real smart from readin' all them books,
e'en th' ones that make 'im sniffle. I stayed in th' parkin' lot
with th' cute smokin' couple for comp'ny.
On Fry-dy, July thirty-firs', it wuz time t' say
"Adios" t' Momma Doris. She didn't like seein' us leave, neither,
but she wuz in demand t' play bridge near all day, so that 'lowed us t'
skedaddle without too many tears. Lotsa other folks wanted t' say
so long t' Mommy Marilyn an' Daddy Glenn, though. Guess tha's
'cause Mommy Marilyn an' Daddy Glenn are friendly-like. After
eight days, they seemed t' know lotsa folks. Wonder if that Texas
friendly rubbed off on 'em, or if Mommy Marilyn an' Daddy Glenn wuz
born natchaly friendly?
We had a purty short ride that day - jus' over th'
Sierra N'vada t' Reno, N'vada - 'bout two hours. But it's a
real nice leg o' th' journey. Got big tall pines all over.
Now, I 'member what I said 'bout likin' space in th' early part o' this
here journal, and I didn' tell no lies, but I can also 'preciate other
scen'ry. Besides, there wuz places where you'd see clear 'cross a
valley t' mountains so high no trees grew on 'em, or you could look
down int' lakes as blue as I am. Spectac'lar's what it wuz.
Cousins Kathi an' Jim were waitin' for us when we
rode up. They're always so nice t' us. Cousin Jim e'en
takes th' bathroom door down so Daddy Glenn can do 'is business in
there. How's that for hosp'tality? After restin' an'
playin' with th' dogs a bit, I carried ever'one t' th' Nugget
All-U-Can-Eat Buffet. They chowed down so hard I liked t'
sprained a shock 'sorber gettin' 'em back home.
Next day, after breakfast and a hike that Daddy
Glenn got t' go on, we lit out again. This time we were goin'
'cross north'n N'vada t' Elko, N'vada. I been in N'vada an',
between you an' me, it ain't th' purtiest state in th' union. But
north'n N'vada now, well, tha's a bit dif'rent. It's high desert,
see, an' mostly it's green. Got lotsa mountain ranges, too,
sep'rated by broad valleys. In fack, 'cordin' t' Daddy Glenn,
most o' N'vada is in what geol'gists call th' Basin an' Range Province.
Mommy Marilyn an' Daddy Glenn were sure lookin'
forward t' eatin' in Elko. When we come through last year,
cousins Kathi and Jim told 'em 'bout a Basque restaurant name o' th'
Star Hotel. They liked it and were itchin' t' eat there
again. Turned out, they had th' same waitress as last year.
Like my kinfolk from Germ'ny, th' Basque people come here a while back,
only they come from th' border area of France an' Spain. Lots o'
'em settled in north'n N'vada 'cause it wuz good shepherdin' land, an'
that wuz one thin' they wuz good at.
'Cept for th' ahntrays, this place brought all th'
grub - soup, beans, salad, bread - in big bowls that Mommy Marilyn an'
Daddy Glenn served themselves from. They ate so good they liked t'
strained my shock 'sorber two nights runnin'. I wuz beginnin' t'
hope they'd start eatin' McDonald's one dolla' hamburgers again.
But I'd never encourage 'em t' go back t' cold pork & beans.
After that, we had a purt long day, drivin' through
Salt Lake City and down t' Green River, Utah. I like t' think I
find purty in ever'thing, but west'rn Utah kinda stumped me-like.
Salt, salt, and more salt, with hardly a green spot. Daddy Glenn
said th' Great Salt Lake wuz th' remnant of somethin' called Lake
Bonneville. It 'xisted millions and millions years go, and had a
shore a quarter way up 'em big Wasatch Mountains. I b'lieve him,
too. Sure looked like dregs t' me. After Salt Lake City, it
got purty again. We were either in mountains or near mountains
way t' Green River.
When we pulled int' Green River, Mommy Marilyn
spotted a fruitstan' sellin' watermellin, casaba mellin, Crenshaw
mellin, cantalope - all kinda mellin you could think of - and declared
we were goin' back there after checkin' in t' th' hotel. Didn'
havta, folks. There wuz another fruitstan' right close t' th'
hotel. We went there an' Mommy Marilyn just 'bout tried all them
samples. 'Er eyes lit up bright as th' sun in th' desert an' she
brought some o'er t' Daddy Genn, e'en though she knowed he didn' take
too much t' watermellin. 'Is eyes lit up, an' they lit up e'en
more when he gotta taste o' that Crenshaw mellin, or casaba mellin, or
whate'er it wuz. They got a good bit o' that stuff an' then
called th' friends they wuz meetin' in Breckenridge, Col'rado, an' told
'em not t' buy no fruit. They done had th' best mellins a body
It's Mondy, August twen'ieth, folks, an' I'm itchin'
t' go see them Rocky Mountains. Did I tell you I perform real
good in mountains. I sure do. I even eat 'bout ten percen'
less. Daddy Glenn gets this goofy smile whene'er he calc'lates I
done traveled more miles between my feeds than usual. Shouldn'
none. My real fam'ly come from Germ'ny, where there's lotsa
mountains. I wuz jus' made for mountains, ja? But now I'm
forced t' bide my time 'fore goin' t' th' mountains, 'cause Mommy
Marilyn an' Daddy Glenn are in th' J. W. Powell Museum next door
studyin' 'bout how that guy an' some other 'venturous fools took wooden
boats down th' Green and Col'rado Rivers before any other fool white
men. Said they did it t' 'spand knowlege. Sure - an' I'm
pink 'stead blue. I know they jus' done it t' get 'way from
civil-LIE-zation for a time. Feel thataway myself time t'
time. Great day in th' mornin'! Here they come at
last! I see Daddy Glenn done got himself another book.
Might o' knowed it.
It got purtier and purtier as we followed th' I-70
trail t' Breckenridge. Mountains got higher, trees got taller,
snowcaps got more numerouser, temps got cooler, passes got steeper,
roadside streams got swifter, an' I got friskier. Did great 'til
'bout six miles before we wuz due t' get off th' main trail. Some
fool went and had himself an accident right before our turnoff, so
folks wuz backed up th' whole six miles! Daddy Glenn, he looked
at th' map but decided t' wait with ever'body else. Mommy Marilyn
an' Daddy Glenn done got after that taffy they got in Sacr'mento.
Nuthin' else t' do, 'cept gab with th' folks in th' other lane.
Got them wrappers all o'er my innards. Least they wuzn't
sticky. We fine'ly got there 'bout an hour late an' my fun wuz
o'er for a while. Tha's right, pardners, they done put me in an
undergroun' garage and went off with their friends t' eat dinner - on
top o' all th' taffy they chowed down. Must be makin' up for them
cold pork & beans.
Here underground, I got time t' think, see. I
know Mommy Marilyn an' Daddy Glenn wouldn't be enjoyin' this nice cool
weather right now if'n their friends from Penns'lvania, th' Widdalls
and Evan), hadna invited 'em t' share th' timeshare they bought
in Breckenridge, Col'rado, a while back. (I like ol' Evan.
He's an' 'leven-year-ol' pup, but he don't get my innards sticky or
nuthin' like that.) Some o' Barb's fam'ly, Howard, Kelly, Sydney,
and Kelsey Dieter, also have a place here. They get t'gether out
here when they can. Purty nice setup. And it wuz right nice
o' 'em t' invite Mommy Marilyn an' Daddy Glenn t' share their
get-together this year. Hmmm... Musta dozed off. I
hear 'em comin'. Yeah!!! There's Mommy Marilyn an' Daddy
Glenn, an' Barb, an' Scott, an' Evan. What's Daddy Glenn
sayin'? "It's dark down here!" Duh! What's Mommy
Marilyn sayin'? She saw a fox. LAST NIGHT!!!
Well... What... I can't even tell no time down here
|Scott, Barb, an' Evan
at th' pass. Good folks.
Well, after they done left me undergroun' all night,
Mommy Marilyn an' Daddy Glenn made up t' me by lettin' me carry 'em an'
th' Widdalls up t' 11,990 foot Loveland Pass. There, ever'one
went hikin', 'ceptin' me an' Daddy Glenn. We sat back, breathed
th' fresh but thin air, an' took in th' spe'tac'lar views.
'Course, Daddy Glenn, he had t' read a little more. Later, on our
way back, Mommy Marilyn reined me in at another trail, where ever'one
went hikin' again, includin' Daddy Glenn.
|A view from Loveland
|An' 'nother one.
Ever'one wuz purty tired after I carried 'em back,
'cept Mommy Marilyn an' Evan. I carried 'em t' th' groc'ry store
t' get dinner fixin's for th' whole passle o' 'em. But then they
stuck me undergroun' again and left. Hey, guys, I yelled.
Doncha wanna go out on th' town? Didn' work none, though. I
later heard they wuz 'cited 'cause they seen that fox again.
What's that blame fox got that I ain't got, I'd like t' know?
Stupid fox runnin' 'round on God's green earth while I'm stuck in a
hole. I should be makin' tracks in th' mountains. Stupid
When they come down rarin' t' go, I figured it must
be Wednesdy, July th' twen'y-two. Hot dang! Get t' carry
'em all again t'day. Wonder what th' 'venture is now? Now
we're stopped at a bike shop jus' down th' hill. Ever'body's
gettin' out, includin' Daddy Glenn. What? They're not
gettin' back in! Dad gum it! I don't get t' spin my wheels
after all. I see Mommy Marilyn's done rented a bike an' she's
goin' off with Scott, Evan, and th' Dieters. An' Daddy Glenn an'
Barb's gonna walk 'round town. Meantime, I gotta sit in th'
parkin' lot 'stead a goin' on a 'venture like I 'sumed. Why they
wanna vex me liike that? Jus' ain't right, I tell ya.
Later, I heard tell how Mommy Marilyn and th' other
folks rode them bikes clean t' th' next town, Frisco, 'bout nine miles
up th' road. They ate lunch an' done a little shoppin' there
before ridin' back. Mommy Marilyn's tongue wuz hangin' out by th'
time she come back. Serves 'er right for takin' an inferior form
o' transpertation t' me. Daddy Glenn wuzn't no better. He
an' Barb walked that durned bike path a ways, come back, walked 'round
town, an' looked at th' town's museum. An', ya know what?
He got himself some doughnuts at one place, ice cream at another, an'
didn' think t' get me nuthin'. Sometime, I feel like Mommy
Marilyn an' Daddy Glenn take this ole boy for granted, while I'd do
anythin' at all for 'em. Like, I didn' e'en complain 'bout
carryin' 'em back up th' hill. Seem fair t' you?
Glenn eats donuts whene'er he can.
Scott felt a mite poorly on Thursdy, so I carried
Mommy Marilyn, Daddy Glenn, Barb, an' Evan t' see th' Phoenix Gold
Mine, 'bout fif'y miles t' th' east. On th' way, we stopped 'side
purty little stream with someone fishin' it and Mommy Marilyn, Daddy
Glenn, Barb, an' Evan had a little picnic. (I'd already been fed
in Frisco, though 'tweren't my favo-right meal.) Despite I-70
bein' right up th' hill, it wuz a peaceful spot. After they'd
done took th' mine tour, I heard ever'body talkin' 'bout how
interestin' it wuz. They seen real gold and copper veins!
It wuz 'cessible, too, so Daddy Glenn got t' go where'er other folks
went. In fack, th' mine tour s'ports a foundation for disabled
in th' gold mine!
After Evan panned for gold an' didn' strike it rich,
we headed back t' th' timeshare. We stopped t' look for some o'
them Bighorn Sheep, though. Evan said he saw 'em. Maybe he
did and maybe it wuz jus' 'is 'magination, but th' rest o' us couldn'
find 'em. Even me, an' I get my perfec' eyesight checked least
once a year. They told me that, when we got back, Daddy Glenn
went on "Fox Watch". He wuz determined t' see that fox
ever'body'd talked 'bout all week. No fox showed, though.
He might a well kep' me comp'ny in that dark undergroun' garage.
Fry-dy wuz our last full day with ever'body, so we
went for one more hikin' trip, a hike called Wheeler Lakes. Well,
'course Daddy Glenn an' I stayed in th' parkin' lot. Daddy Glenn
read "Hank th' Cowdog: th' Case o' th' Fiddle-Playin' Fox", an' I could
hear 'im chucklin' t' beat th' band. He read th' whole thin' an'
then started back with 'is Kindle before th' others e'en come
Didn' read all th' time, though. It wuz so purty there, he kep'
lookin' up an' 'round, admirin' tree-clad mountains, snow clingin' near
mountaintops, neat ski runs, an' all kinda other stuff. I didn'
half mind being there, neither. When th' others come back, we all
went lookin' for ice cream. Found it at a Texas Stop Sign.
(Tha's a Dairy Queen, for all you un'itiated.)
That night I carried Mommy Marilyn an' Daddy Glenn
t' what you might call a fare-the-well dinner in downtown
Breckenridge. We sure had a good time with 'em folks. It
wuz so neighb'ly o' 'em t' invite us t' share their v'cation with
'em. We could tell they liked us, too, 'cause, when we got back
t' th' undergroun' garage they were all there, waitin' t' direc' us t'
an empty parkin' space. That wuz so nice. Felt like a big
ole group hug or somethin'.
It's Saturdy, Augus' th' eight, an' here comes Mommy
Marilyn with suitcases an' th' ice chess, an' 'er Spanish stuff.
I know what that means, an' I'm rarin' t' go. Gotta nice long
pull t' Amarillo, Texas, t'day. Yahoo!!! Goin' back t' my
favo-right state in th' union. Mommy Marilyn went back an' got
Daddy Glenn. Barb came down, too. She's sure a nice
lady. I know she's tryin' hard not t' cry, but I done seen a tear
or two while Daddy Glenn wuz gettin' in my co-pilotin' seat.
Mommy Marilyn is th' pilot, but Daddy Glenn gets t' tell 'er where t'
go. For some reason or 'nother, he thinks tha's funny.
Instead o' takin' I-70 east t' Denver, then I-25
south, we took Col'rado 9 south from Breckenridge t' U. S. of A. 50
east int' Pueblo. We woulda gone through Pueblo anyways, but this
wuz shorter an' purtier. Th' firs' part wuz mountain highways,
where I 'cel. Then we got int' broad green valleys with rollin'
hills an' mountains all 'round. If Mommy Marilyn an' Daddy Glenn
ever decide t' leave Texas, they oughta think 'bout this country.
'Course, it gets mighty cold here, an' Daddy Glenn don't take t' cold
too good. Kinda stiffens 'im up some.
After some more purty country in Col'rado, New
Mexico, and Texas, we hit Amarillo. Mommy Marilyn checked int'
th' Hol'day Inn an' off we went t' an eatin' 'stablishment we been t'
many a time, th' Big Texan Steak Ranch. It's always jam packed,
so Mommy Marilyn an' Daddy Glenn had t' wait a while t' eat. Th'
Steak Ranch has this gimmick, see, if you can eat a seven'y-two ounce
steak, with all th' trimmin's, in less than an hour, it's yours for
free. Otherwise, it's a buck an ounce, or seven'y-two
smackeroos. Mommy Marilyn an' Daddy Glenn ain't fool 'nough t'
try th' stunt, but Daddy Glenn likes t' watch th' knuckleheads that
make a spect'cle outta themselves by stuffin' an' stuffin'
themselves. There were three goin' for th' free steak that
night. You shoulda heard th' whoopin' an' hollerin' when they got
near th' ending. Sounded like rodeo spe'tators durin' th' bronc
ridin' 'vent. Two o' 'em fellas achally got th' free
steaks. Mommy Marilyn an' Daddy Glenn's never seen that before.
Well, pardners, Sundy wuz th' last day o' our
vacation an' we still hada purty far piece t' go. 'Course, I wuz
up t' it. Mommy Marilyn an' Daddy Glenn can drive me anywhere,
long's they feed me good an' give me my reg'lar checkups. In
fack, this is how reli'ble I am. Two miles north o' Guthrie,
Texas, which itself is 'bout nine'y-five miles north o' Abilene, Texas,
I hit th' big two hunnerd thousand! Daddy Glenn wuz so proud, he
made Mommy Marilyn stop an' take pitchers. Wish he hadna done
that, 'cause I didn' look too good right then. Twen'y four days
o' dust on me, bugs all o'er my grille, I wuz jus' a mess, I tell
ya. But they got some gud
uns. One pitcher wuz o' Daddy Glenn pettin' me so nice and
easy. Sure felt gud to
know how tickled they wuz with my reli'ble service.
Glenn pettin' me. Ooooohh! Do that s'more, Daddy Glenn!
Mommy Marilyn hada pee 'bout th' same time an'
couldn' wait for no fillin' station. We wuz in th' wide-open,
with no souls 'round, so she got inside o' me an' started usin' 'er
female urinal. Didja know they had such a thing? Me
neither, 'til Mommy Marilyn got one. Anyways, 'bout that time, me
an' Daddy Glenn seen a pickup go by, stop, and turn 'round.
Uh-oh. Both me an' Daddy Glenn knew what wuz comin' next.
Th' man stopped so's he could offer 'sistance if we needed any.
Folks in these parts're like that, 'cause there's miles an' miles where
it's just flat lonely. Well, Daddy Glenn tol' Mommy Marilyn 'bout
th' truck, but she done started peein', an' my side door wuz still
open. You ever try t' stop peein' once you'd got goin'?
It's like tryin' to shut off Niagr' Falls. She wuz still
goin' when Daddy Glenn said th' fella wuz outa 'is truck. Daddy
Glenn couldn' do nuthin', an' I couldn' do nuthin' 'cause it wuz flat
as a dragstrip there. If it hada been a hill, 'least I coulda
brake off an' rolled aways a bit. Mommy Marilyn got done jus' as
th' guy got t' my tail lights. I didn' know Mommy Marilyn could
yank 'er pants up so fast, pardners. Hada chuckle at that, but I
guess it coulda been 'barrassin'.
Now, I wuz feelin' great 'cause o' my two nunnerd
thousan' miles of top-notch service t' Mommy Marilyn an' Daddy Glenn,
but there wuz sumthin' stickin' in my craw, an' I might as well get it
off o' my transmission. This is th' thin'. 'Bout three
years back, when I had, I don't know, 'bout a hunnerd an' twen'y
thousan' miles on me, Mommy Marilyn an' Daddy Glenn insulted me real
bad whey they adopted a rel'tive o' mine by th' name o' Silver Star,
Silver for short-like. I didn' have nuthin' against Silver -
she's a mighty fine lady - but it curled my mufflers t' hear 'em say
they got Silver for when I died. Mommy Marilyn an' Daddy Glenn
are good folks, but sometimes they don't think right. They wasted
their time, 'cause I'm still goin' strong. I'll show 'em.
I'll always be willin' t' take 'em where they wanna go, an' sweet
Silver can jus' stay 'neath th' carport lookin' purty. She does
look great, too. Mmm, mmm! Well, now's tha's off my motor,
I can tell ya 'bout th' rest o' th' trip.
We stopped in Brownwood, Texas, at yet another
favo-right eatin' spot by th' name o' Underwood's Barbecue. They
got other good grub 'sides barbecue, though, an' Mommy Marilyn an'
Daddy Glenn speshly like th' rolls an' cobbler. (You know, I
think they mighta fine'ly made up for them cold pork & beans.
I'm happy for 'em.)
On th' last hunnerd miles, we seen that thin's didn'
get real brown 'til we wuz 'bout fif'y miles from home. Back t'
th' drought. Seems like th' land 'round home's in a bucket with
th' lid shut tighter'n a drum.
I'm in my own garage puttin' th' finishin' touches
on my report and thinkin' 'bout stuff. Hope ya liked what I
wrote. Mommy Marilyn done took all th' stuff outa my innards an'
dumped it on the bedroom floor. Says she'll pack it away o'er th'
comin' week. I think she an' Daddy Glenn done gone t' bed.
I'm gettin' sleepy, m'self. I worked purty
hard-like, but it wuz worth it 'cause we had what I call a real gud
vacation, what ya call well-rounded. Ahh-hhh. 'Scuse
me. Let's see now... There wuz some campin'...,
Stayin' with rel'tives... Zzzz. Stayin' with
friends... Hikin'... Readin'... Seein' purty
country... Zzzzzzzz. Thinkin' 'bout goin' t' Arkansas
next... Zzzzzzzzz. Zzzz. Hearin' 'bout Cash for
Clunkers on my radio... CASH FOR CLUNKERS!!! WHAT?!!!
But, hol' on a bit. I might've been goin' for two hunnerd
thousan' miles, but I ain't no clunker. Am I? Mommy
Marilyn an' Daddy Glenn wouldn' clog my engine with no chem'cals.
Would they? I'll jus' havta do e'en more by writin' their
vacation journals for 'em. Tell ya th' truth, Daddy Glenn, he
don't write too good no ways.
Crater Lake Blue
Here's my pitcher so's you can get my autograph when I strut by.