Drive - A Memoir 62nd Installment
driving
this contraption. Work and play are the same!” My philosophy.
We
didn’t actually work on the Whiz Gizzy the next day. I had
forgotten about the first jackrabbit drive of the season. It was to
start at noon, behind Barney’s place. Russ and I had nothing but
mayhem on our minds, and I hurriedly scooped up a handful of
scrambled eggs and smeared them onto a piece of toast.
“Stop
eating like a slob,” Edith scolded. “Eating with your fingers I
can live with but sticking your ‘cow–milking hands’ in everyone
else’s food is over the top. For your information I’ve been
‘volunteered’ to arrive early at the jackrabbit drive with ten
gallons of milk, and I’ll be in charge of the hot chocolate and
doughnuts. You guys can ride with me if you have your work done by
10:30.”
Our
eyes boggled and I announced, “It’s a date! Russ and I’ll be
taking you up on that offer.”
At
10:27 we had the chores and the assigned work for the day done. Done
well? Maybe.
At
10:28 we had wolfed down a sandwich in one minute. Chewed? Maybe.
At
10:29 we had our clubs; we piled in the back of the pickup. Ready to
go? Absolutely.
At
10:45 we were tired of waiting and started banging our clubs of the
pickup’s tail gate and chanting, “There is an old lady who’s
late – asks for five minutes, but she takes twenty eight – she
should be on time – making us late is a crime – what can we do –
but WAIT!” We sang it again and again more loudly each time which
is why we didn’t hear the front door of the house slam and when we
saw Edith striding in our direction we fell silent, mid word. “Oh,
oh, we’re going to pay for this,” I groaned.
“Put
the milk can, in the back,” she told us in a surprisingly level
voice. “Hurry we’ve got to go right now and we have to pick up
Ronnie.”
“Ronnie?”
Russ questioned.
“Yes,
why?” Edith said.
“Ronnie
is a worthless waste of skin,” I moaned. “He hasn’t killed a
jackrabbit in his life, is why!”
“Stop
that! Is killing all you guys care about?” Now she was getting mad.
“Okay,
we harvest jackrabbits for a living, you know that, and this
jackrabbit drive is just a diversion; helping the farmers save some
of their crops is a community service.” I said. “I thought you
knew what these drives are about; and Ronnie – he’s a sad case.”
“I
do.” Her level voice was back. “The farmers need all the help
they can get to save their farms from this infestation of a living
pestilence that’s consuming practically all green material wherever
they find it. And you will ask Ronnie over!” Edith sped out the
lane and stopped at
500 more words tomorrow
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