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First Things First...
 As I write this I am sitting in the
service yard for the company that fixes warranty issues on my trailer.
At the same time, I am trying to trade out of this trailer through
another dealer... If you pray, now's the time.
Dead Men Walking...actually limping.
Diesel and I each used up yet another portion of our allotted
lives...and I feel a bit guilty as I helped on the second go ‘round...
anyway the first came along the backroads of Ismay, Montana.
I was looking for ghost towns, old barns and whatever else struck me
after some customers from the night before pointed me in this
direction...as we covered a lot of old west territory including
windmills, wells and well, the rest of the west, we passed the usual
amount of game from deer & antelope to a private buffalo ranch.
Nothing new as it was all at some distance, until a herd of antelope
crossed the road in front of us some 10 to 15 feet ahead. There had to
be 30-40 and that was plenty too many for Diesel who managed to squeeze
through a rear window in the truck and flip out...after that, despite
my cursing, the chase was on..
It’s not actually much of a chase as you have the fastest land animals
in North America being pursued by a delinquent, gimp coyote mix with
visions of grandeur..
Well chase he did, at least far enough over a ridge where I lost sight
of him...I walked to the ridge knowing running would count for little
or nothing. As I arrived at the crest and overlooked beautiful rolling
hills for as far as the eye could see, it became apparent that was all
there was to see...no antelope and no Diesel, nowhere.
After a few yells and whistles that were carried away without effect by
the gentle wind that swept across the plain, I decided to sit and
watch...as I reached the half hour mark my thoughts were
many...starting with Chief and Willow (who in retrospect I should have
probably let out of the truck, as Diesel strays less when he's not
flying solo). I knew they must be beside themselves in the truck
waiting and wondering....
Next I thought about a Plan B should I not find him today...I
determined that would be a visit to the ranch we passed on the way in
about a mile back. If his coyote cousins didn’t get him first, he would
end up there sooner rather than later...he’s lame, but no dummy.
My next thought was what good are plans A, B and C if there's no way
I'm going home without him? So with that straight in my mind, I quit
sitting and began walking down into the valley
There was not much moving on the golden horizon, but it was clear that
if something did, because of his dark coloring, it would be
Diesel...after all, it’s only the crows and the Angus cows he had to
compete with.
I couldn’t imagine he made it too far anyway with those legs, but how
about that heart...that could take him long way...so I prepared for a
long day and possibly missing the show that night...oh well, it was
Diesel.
Well after another half hour of walking whistling and wondering, I
scanned the horizon for the umpteenth time. And for as far as the eye
could see, all was calm...until I saw a line of shade trees to the
north east....
And while I was not certain I saw anything, if I did see something, it
looked a hell of a lot like a black coyote and since they were shade
trees and Diesel is no dummy, I started off in that direction.’
As I moved closer, it became apparent that it was indeed the delinquent
and he had found a cool spot in the grass...I began to whistle ‘that
whistle’ and he alerted to it, but he sure didn’t rush to me like he
had that day when the wild mare almost trampled him, but that was life
and death, this was freedom and fun.’
Or so I thought as I approached, it was clear that his legs had given
out and between that and no water, he was going nowhere...or so he
thought...now as glad as I was to see him, I was also annoyed, but
Diesel can’t be scolded or he runs away (from his days with the Apache
cowboys) so yelling at him would only compound the problem.
But I wasn’t about to carry him (tough love they call it) so I told him
he was a good boy for saving us all from those dangerous antelope and
said 'let's go!'...he wagged his tail and he struggled to his feet.
It was as slow walk back to the truck and there were several times when
I thought he was going to give chase again, but even delinquents know
their limits sometimes...if not their place.
Told you I was cursed in Indiana.
I don’t know what I ever did to offend this state, but
our (the dogs and I) next collective handshake with the “man up stairs”
was entirely my fault but hey, I’ve paid for their indiscretions before
and if I’m gonna meet my maker, I couldn’t be prouder than to do it
with them at my side...
Anyway, I told my good friend Kevin that this brush with death probably
cost me two maybe three lives and he, who is a much better judge of
such things, assured me that this one was three...so three it is...
And quite honestly I wasn’t as concerned with how many it cost me as I
was with how many I had left... and that’s more likely why I cheated a
bit and the two figure came to mind ‘cause by my calculations, that
leaves me with two...but then again, I might be cheating again...but
enough of the forward and on with the story...I like to call it a
“perfect storm” of events
First there are a series of flashing overhead yellow lights on this
rural highway...and given my short attention span to such things,
enough to make you stop paying attention to the only red ones that
accompany the train intersection.
Second, no R/R crossing gates that come down to block your path...
(normally this would fall under “Things I’ve learned”, but I’ll put it
here...I need gates blocking my path.
Third, there was a wall of trees that extended up to the roadside from
each direction so the train was not visible in any direction until it
enters the intersection. (But you can definitely hear the whistle blow
at that distance). A good chain saw and a beer would solve this issue..
 Fourth, there is a slight incline in each
direction, so the tracks are not visible until you’re right on top of
them...the train is visible although blurry much sooner than that (see
#3 regarding the whistle being audible even before that).
Fifth, (this is where you all say, see it was his fault...if he’d only
been paying attention) I was getting close to where I was supposed to
be and MapQuest had already screwed me badly on this trip, so I
admittedly was driving and checking directions at this
inopportune point (give me a break it was a perfect storm).
So as I sped 'our' way toward the end times, my first reaction was to
hit the gas so I didn't end up a quad...if it hadn't been for not
wanting to take the dogs with me, I might have and obviously that would
have been the wrong choice.
That lasted about a second before survival kicked in and my second
thought was, ruin the no good trailer but save yourself and the dogs,
but that was a math problem (speed + angles + trailer weight + ??? =)
that I not only didn’t have time for, (I’m actually no good at
math)...but with a father who would give you a good whipping for
intentionally breaking things (even if it was a no good piece of s@*t.).
And as my mom used to say before the whippings...all’s well that ends
well...ok, she didn’t actually say that but I’m quite sure she was
thinking it.
But after all was said and done, all did end well, except for the folks
in the north bound lanes...I was both concerned and amused...amused at
the looks on their faces...I mean the last thing they saw was a truck
and trailer barreling into the side of a train!...and considering
Indiana is demolition derby country, this was going to be a show!
Sorry hoosiers, tonight’s show has been cancelled due to the lack of a
willing victim, so you’ll have to settle for dinner table talk of the
guy from South Dakota (my plates anyway) who ALMOST got it.
My concern surrounded the fact that after it all, my heart was beating
about as close to normal as I could gauge...now I have no death wish,
but it could happen, so I immediately called several close friends and
told them if they leave message someday and I don’t return the call,
I’m not being a jerk...many of them advised me that there are many more
reasons to consider me one.
And for some strange reason as I pulled over to the side of the highway
I thought about the classic “Citizen Kane” and thought it would be just
my luck that I would be mortally injured, but not die instantly and
instead of ‘Rosebud’ being my last words, they would ‘Roadnotes’ .
I screwed up and admit it, so in light of the saying that you don’t
speak poorly of the dead...I would like to expand that to the un-dead
as well...thank you very much.
As an added note, I drove by the same spot tonight some three days
later and there were two more new sets of tracks like mine...50 and 75
feet back...they were either more observant, or not as willing to test
their status with the man up stairs as I.
The latest outhouse story comes from Fort Collins, Colorado where at
the New WestFest I met an entire family who takes part in the Outhouse
races in Leadville,
Colorado, during their "Boomtown days"...any takers?
 Lord of the
Salamanders
One of my favorite writers,John Fante wrote a
short story about the time as a child when he went down to the tide
pools and killed crabs for awhile...he reveled in the fact that forever
that day would be legend in crab circles as crab parents would tell
their crab children about his wrath and that he would no doubt be known
as the“King of the Crabs”!...
While I am not reveling in it, I may have achieved a
similar stature in salamander lore...while driving through Fargo, North
Dakota after a severe rain storm, the highway was covered with 6” to 8”
salamanders trying to cross. It went on for about two miles and quite
frankly it was a blood bath no matter how I tried to avoid them... If I
played video games I suppose I could have done better...I hope they
speak kindly of me, but royalty I'm not..
 Things I've Learned
I will never lose the sense of awe I get watching a flock of Canadian
geese fly in formation.
My dad’s favorite song “El Paso” by Marty Robbins, immediately comes on
the radio at some eerily opportune times...the latest being as I
successfully retrieved Diesel and put him in the car after he went
antelope hunting.
Some RoadNotes subscribers don’t like truck-stop hooker type stories
and un-subscribe...others get nostalgic...kidding.
Miles City, Montana drivers get into the far left lane to make right
hand turns.
I don’t like drivers who get into the far left lane to make right hand
turns.
Indiana’s had a lot of rain lately and every time I think there’s not
another place a mosquito can bite me, they find one.
People who have farms in the middle of rolling hills and emerald
pastures that adjoin crisp clear streams, shouldn’t be allowed to have
metal animal art in their yards...get the real thing!
I’m capeable of doing mean things...while driving through Minneapolis,
a couple was driving at 45 mph a 65 mph so they could enjoy the city
skyline (wasn’t all that impressive quite frankly) so when I finally
got the opportunity to get out from behind them, I finally put all 40
feet of my trailer to use and cruised right along side them blocking
their view for a mile or two.
 Foot In Mouth
I swear I’m not trying to do this, but while I was at the Marshall
County Blueberry Festival” in Plymouth, Indiana, I saw a burly looking
biker type approach with a Fu Man Chu, and multiple tattoos, including
a very large one on his right bicep, of a Labrador Retriever, under
which was the name “Buddy”...
I approached him and said quietly...’I see you’ve got the whole
tough-guy look goin’ on, but anybody that puts a tattoo of their dog on
their arm, can’t be that bad a guy...
The man then looked to me and in the most innocent, childlike voice
said, ‘he’s not my dog...I’m mentally retarded and had a seizure in the
lake last summer and buddy is a search and rescue dog who pulled me
out’.
As I choked up, we spoke for a few more short moments before he moved
off, only to return a minute or two later to thank me for saying he was
a ‘good guy’...geez, this guy had no mercy for cryin’ out loud!
Speaking of my dad, before the train incident, from out of nowhere, I
called my old high school baseball coach (Coach B), (now a Major
General in charge of Veteran Affairs in California) who was fresh out
of Nam at the time and told him other than my father, he showed me how
to walk more like a man than anyone I knew...
Somethings just need to be said before you it's too late...
Until next time....be well and as always, please excuse any typos (and
you know who you are) and most importantly, "Save a Horse, Ride a
Mustang."
Jim |
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