April has been a very busy month. I bought a new Chevy truck and Peanut got a new electric-gas hybrid auto. My old 2000 truck was still running good, but it was time and I sure hated to see him go. But I love my new four-door truck--a smooth ride, indeed. And the electric car sure is something--wonderful gas mileage--we averaged about 47-50 mpg on a recent trip north. Important in this day of oil company abuse and price gouging.
I returned a few days ago from Missouri where I spent several days with my buddies on a turkey hunt. The woods and rolling hills are so enticing, up there in the Mark Twain National Forest near West Plains. We stop at WP and buy our groceries after traveling thru nearby Mammoth Spring, Ark. where the spring river begins, the big spring pouring out of the ground, millions of gallons per minute. Quite a scene.
The first day is spent grocery shopping and setting up the camp, which is very nice, complete with electricity thanks to a wonderful Honda generator. Nice campfire and great food. We're all good cooks and one night I served up ribs, fish and tenderloin medallions, complete with mashed potatoes and garlic bread. We're known for our cooking as much as our hunting prowess--no pork and beans for these cats.
I heard several gobblers and narrowed my hunting spot for opening morning Monday. I got close to a gobbler and had three gobblers answering me as I "set up" on a mountain ridge. But no luck.
Second morning (you can't hunt in the afternoons there...have to be out of the woods by 1 p.m.), my friend John joined me as I encouraged him to go with me since I had heard more than one gobbler the morning before. We heard one about a half-mile below our campsite and trekked toward him as first morn light broke over the mountain ridge in the east. But he quit gobbling. Two more opened up about a mile away and we took off, climbing another large ridge. We finally got pretty close to one of them and set up, our backs against a large black oak tree. John started his yelp calls and the gobbler started inching closer after flying down from his roost. After about 45 minutes still no sight of him. John continued to call and I whispered that I was going to "hit" my call. I did and immediately, and I do mean immediately, the gobbler appeared straight away from me, running wide open, as fast as a race horse, right at me. I whispered to John, "I see him and he's coming right at me." In less than 10 seconds, the turkey was 25 steps in front of me, staring a hole thru me, I assume wondering where his hen girlfriend was. As he walked behind a tree, I raised my Browning Gold Trigger 12-gauge, 3and1/2 shell, and boom! He hit the ground. We picked up the turkey and started the long, very, very long, hike back toward the camp. Using his compass, John steered an eastward course and we trudged up one mountain ridge and then another. Finally, we saw the gravel road. Back at camp, I rested and John returned to the woods to go after another one. Buddy G.E. returned and unloaded a gobbler of his own and we rested after a good morning, a hearty breakfast and a brief hail storm. A great Missouri morning and a great Missouri trip. Two big gobblers and me in good health. A year earlier, I was laid up at home with a $100,000 metal knee. It felt fine after the mountain climb, too.
Back home, I rested and caught up on family business, including a wedding shower, and returned to one of my fishing spots this morning, rising at 5 a.m. and making my first cast by 7:15. It was cold and windy and the fish didn't co-operate much, but I brought home six which is plenty for me and Peanut's next fishfry.
I like this retirement life. My next big adventure is a golf tourney in June at Batesville with my buddy Seve and my partner Rocky. Hunting, fishing and golf--keeps a feller busy.
Oh yeah, the best part of it all was working in a trip to Sherwood where grandson Luke Bo Duke and all of his classmates put on a big show at school for grandparents day. What a great kid. They sang and did other things and he was honored as one of five kids in the entire school...and it's a big ole school...as outstanding Christian leader. The hunting and fishing won't make me cry, but seeing my grandson..well, a little tear or two is okay for a grandfather, I think. I sure do love that boy and you should have seen his "science" project...snakes and a weird "combination" animal.
That's all for this time, til next time, thanks for your time.
Monday, April 28, 2008
Tuesday, April 1, 2008
See the USA, in your Chev-ro-let
That was the theme song from the Old Dinah Shore Show, if memory serves. That's what I'm about to do, in a new Chevy truck. I bought a new one and I pick it up tomorrow. The down side to this is I'm trading off my red 2000 Chevy, the one with 94,000-plus miles etc. I get attached to my vehicles and I'll be sad to leave my red truck behind when I drive away in the new four-door, extended cab gray one. I felt the same way back in 2000 when I picked up the red one and left my big ole Bronco behind at Gwatney Chevrolet in Jacksonville. I loved that big ole Bronco, but it was about to poop out on me, having run a little rough after the engine caught fire and all. The repairs fixed it up, but it never was the same, really, and I knew it. But, just the same, I loved my Bronco and I hated to get rid of it.
I think it's a southern thing, this sentimental attachment some of us have to our pickups and such. But my red truck has become a part of me, way I see it, getting me back and forth to many an appointment, getting me to the bass lake and the deer woods...just a ton of good memories associated with it. It's not a bunch of steel and rubber tires to me and maybe it's because new cars and trucks are still rare things for me because of my upbringing.
We didn't have a family car until I was a junior in high school and Daddy bought Aunt Kate's old Chevy car when she and Uncle Carney passed on. It was white and grape colored and a pretty nice car. Daddy always drove a pickup and that's about all we had. I inherited the Tarantula, a '53 Plymouth car after Bob, the car's owner, went away to college. I loved the Tarantula and drove it back and forth to school, even though it needed repairs. I wired on the muffler with one of momma's coat hangers and I painted on the whitewalls to try and spruce it up a bit. The battery was dead as a hammer so I had to park on a hill every time I stopped and get the car to rolling and pop the clutch to get started. But me and my buddies sure liked that old car and it was about all we had in the way of wheels.
Maybe that's why I like new trucks and cars and treasure them so much. Why I hate letting them go, especially when they are "loyal" and reliable. The first car I "owned" after leaving the nest was a blue Ford Falcon. I could gas it up for $3 back when gas was 13 to 20 cents a gallon in Pine Bluff, which was always in the midst of a gas war. My $65 a week at the Pine Bluff Commercial, where I was a wet-behind-the-ears sports writer, provided me enough money to make my Falcon payment and buy gasoline and food. My apartment was $50 a month, utilities included.
Sportswriting there provided me with my first new car, too, a beautiful red Chevy Camaro from Smart Chevrolet in Pine Bluff. Boy, it was a beauty, with flip-out headlites and all. I drove it to a brand new job--sports editor of the NW Ark. Times in Fayetteville. It was a fine car.
Oh well, I haven't owned too many new cars or trucks in my 60 years, but I look forward now to my new purchase. It will give me ample room for my buddies and my puppies and my hunting and fishing gear as I head to the fishing cabin. I'll try not to look in my rearview mirror as I drive away from the dealership...I don't want to see old red sitting back there without me. I hope his new owner treats him with the respect he deserves and I sure will miss him. He was reliable, never once requiring a trip to the repair shop. That's quite a proud pickup legacy.
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Speaking of the fishing cabin, the recent heavy rains have hurt some folks but the overflows will greatly benefit the White River Refuge in south Arkansas where I fish. We haven't seen this kind of (pretty) water since 1973 and it is sorely needed.
Funny isn't it. I haven't heard any of the pitiful gloom-and-doomers yelling about the so-called disappearing acquifer lately. Folks who want to channelize the White River and spend all of these millions of federal dollars to ditch the delta disappear when the flood waters come. Floods look bad on TV and they will do some damage, but they are also nature's way of replinishing the good earth, flushing out the rivers and oxbows and letting nature have a much-needed drink. We will benefit greatly for many years because of this overflow and people who build houses in the flood plain will build again...because they like living where they live. They know the risks when they lay that first brick. You can't fool (with) Mother Nature.
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As our church treasurer, I've been in charge of a new stained glass window project. Our pretty little Christian Church has many beautiful windows and now we're buying four more to finishing everything out. They will be beautiful and they're being donated by various people. This latest effort started when friends and family of Rusty Compton donated funds to put in a window in Rusty's memory. Now, we're adding others in memory of my sister Joy and my brother Harold. And the Grove family is purchasing one for their family. Good folks who love their little church.
Well, that's all for this time, til next time, thanks for your time.
I think it's a southern thing, this sentimental attachment some of us have to our pickups and such. But my red truck has become a part of me, way I see it, getting me back and forth to many an appointment, getting me to the bass lake and the deer woods...just a ton of good memories associated with it. It's not a bunch of steel and rubber tires to me and maybe it's because new cars and trucks are still rare things for me because of my upbringing.
We didn't have a family car until I was a junior in high school and Daddy bought Aunt Kate's old Chevy car when she and Uncle Carney passed on. It was white and grape colored and a pretty nice car. Daddy always drove a pickup and that's about all we had. I inherited the Tarantula, a '53 Plymouth car after Bob, the car's owner, went away to college. I loved the Tarantula and drove it back and forth to school, even though it needed repairs. I wired on the muffler with one of momma's coat hangers and I painted on the whitewalls to try and spruce it up a bit. The battery was dead as a hammer so I had to park on a hill every time I stopped and get the car to rolling and pop the clutch to get started. But me and my buddies sure liked that old car and it was about all we had in the way of wheels.
Maybe that's why I like new trucks and cars and treasure them so much. Why I hate letting them go, especially when they are "loyal" and reliable. The first car I "owned" after leaving the nest was a blue Ford Falcon. I could gas it up for $3 back when gas was 13 to 20 cents a gallon in Pine Bluff, which was always in the midst of a gas war. My $65 a week at the Pine Bluff Commercial, where I was a wet-behind-the-ears sports writer, provided me enough money to make my Falcon payment and buy gasoline and food. My apartment was $50 a month, utilities included.
Sportswriting there provided me with my first new car, too, a beautiful red Chevy Camaro from Smart Chevrolet in Pine Bluff. Boy, it was a beauty, with flip-out headlites and all. I drove it to a brand new job--sports editor of the NW Ark. Times in Fayetteville. It was a fine car.
Oh well, I haven't owned too many new cars or trucks in my 60 years, but I look forward now to my new purchase. It will give me ample room for my buddies and my puppies and my hunting and fishing gear as I head to the fishing cabin. I'll try not to look in my rearview mirror as I drive away from the dealership...I don't want to see old red sitting back there without me. I hope his new owner treats him with the respect he deserves and I sure will miss him. He was reliable, never once requiring a trip to the repair shop. That's quite a proud pickup legacy.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Speaking of the fishing cabin, the recent heavy rains have hurt some folks but the overflows will greatly benefit the White River Refuge in south Arkansas where I fish. We haven't seen this kind of (pretty) water since 1973 and it is sorely needed.
Funny isn't it. I haven't heard any of the pitiful gloom-and-doomers yelling about the so-called disappearing acquifer lately. Folks who want to channelize the White River and spend all of these millions of federal dollars to ditch the delta disappear when the flood waters come. Floods look bad on TV and they will do some damage, but they are also nature's way of replinishing the good earth, flushing out the rivers and oxbows and letting nature have a much-needed drink. We will benefit greatly for many years because of this overflow and people who build houses in the flood plain will build again...because they like living where they live. They know the risks when they lay that first brick. You can't fool (with) Mother Nature.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
As our church treasurer, I've been in charge of a new stained glass window project. Our pretty little Christian Church has many beautiful windows and now we're buying four more to finishing everything out. They will be beautiful and they're being donated by various people. This latest effort started when friends and family of Rusty Compton donated funds to put in a window in Rusty's memory. Now, we're adding others in memory of my sister Joy and my brother Harold. And the Grove family is purchasing one for their family. Good folks who love their little church.
Well, that's all for this time, til next time, thanks for your time.
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