Drive - A Memoir 84rd Installment
and
the slip was swinging wide, I reached out and gave Toby a slight
push. It was enough. He leaned over and had to step off the edge of
the slip. He took one bound, a huge step, then another bound that
must have been ten feet, then a head long dive, balling up on impact
with the sandy ground and rolling into the brush to the side of the
road. Vicki coming behind stopped for him. He didn’t seem to be any
worse for wear, only covered in dirt and weeds. Toby didn’t opt to
step onto the slip; he scrambled onto the tractor to ride. I don’t
remember him ever trusting a ride on a slip after that. Russ and I
weren’t cruel enough to laugh out loud at him, but we were laughing
on the inside. Later, we would laugh our butts off every time we told
the story to someone (or just to each other).
“I
like Old Juan and I hope he doesn’t get pissed off at us for trying
to kill his kid,” Russ told me on the ride home.
“Yeah
I like Old Juan too. He works hard, he talks funny, sometimes looks
scary and he tells great stories about his tough childhood,” I
said.
“Not
as hard as we work and we tell stories about our tough childhood,”
Russ challenged.
“Ya
think,” Linda chirped in. “I think foreigners work harder than
you snots.”
“Oh
yeah, Casey and I move ninety tons of hay a day plus all our chores,
plus our hay, plus the neighbors’ chores!” Russ barked itching
for a fight. “All you do is drive the tractor and run your mouth.”
“Isn’t
it great,” I tried to calm Russ, “working I mean.”
“We
work harder than anybody at any age. Casey, tell her about Elwood;
she won’t listen to me.”
“Remember
last week when we moved the haying operation to Elwood’s place?
Carl’s leasing Elwood’s place and Elwood insisted on working
along side of us,” I liked telling this story. “We were
efficiently snatching and swinging the bales into place at a fast
clip while Elwood was trying to lift a bale of hay, walk with the
bale, and heft it into place, struggling all the way. Well, by noon
he was so tired, he threw up his breakfast and went to the house.
Elwood looks about thirty and should be in his prime.”
Linda
shrugged and said, “Maybe he had the flu.” We all headed to the
house without further argument.
500 more words tomorrow
Chapter
21
On
the drive to Don’s dairy to milk the cows, as we crossed Camas
Creek, I asked, “why don’t we go ‘fishin’ more often?” I
was full of reverie about fishing.
“We
barely have time for sleeping and ‘eatin’. By the way, you don’t
even like eating fish,” Russ challenged.
“Only
because of the bones,” I replied.
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