I picked up a hitchhiker last November, He was a nice, well-dressed young man, who it turned out was headed north to find work. He had nothing besides the clothes he was wearing, and a cold front was due to hit that evening. His shirt was short-sleeved, so when I let him out, I took off the long-sleeved shirt that I was wearing over a t-shirt, and said, "you will need this more than I will, pardner." He accepted gratefully and we parted ways.
About a mile later, it came to me; I had given a man the shirt off my back.
Another day, another hitch-hiker {I have rules, I pick up the scrawny guys, or guys traveling with dogs; the former are less likely to mess with a guy my size, and hikers with dogs are universally cool.}. Kenny was another fellow seeking work, but I saw that his shoes, though nice, were unfit for work of any kind outside of a restaurant. It turned out that A) we wore the same size shoes, and B) I had an extra pair of steel-toed boots in the trunk. We traded shoes for boots, and I let Kenny out when we reached the I-65 intersection. Those shoes are still in my trunk, unworn by me as of yet.
So I now have another man's shoes, but I have yet to walk a mile in them.
It was County Fair time, October, 1968. My friend Tony and I had just hit the fairway, we each had five dollars to spend. A barker collared Tony, and soon had him tossing rings over blocks of wood, which he did badly, although the barker could ring it every time. I think he slipped Tony slightly smaller rings. Now Tony had given the crook his five, expecting change, buut the bastard told him that he had used up his money tossing for the bigger prizes, a little something that he neglected to tell us beforehand. As a consolation, he gave Tony a little stuffed dog, and we walked on.
I looked at Tony, who was miserable, and I looked at my five bucks. I said to Tony, "Would you sell me that dog for $2.50?" He did, and we carefully spent the last of the money before finding our folks and heading home.
With all due respect to PT Barnum, I had given a sucker an even break.
Do me a favor, if you ever happen to be in Huntsville, Alabama, go to the John A. Coyle Insurance Agency, and tell Anthony(Tony) you heard it from me that he was a sucker. I know that he will appreciate your dredging up such an embarrassing childhood memory.
Ron and I went to Bobby's place in the country, packing shovels. Bobby had horses, and stables that needed mucking. We filled the back of Ron's Nissan truck three feet higher than the sides, and split the load between his garden and mine. The corn I grew that year was so sweet it hurt your teeth, and you could eat it raw. But I cannot say that I don't take crap off anyone, because I do, when it suits me.
I've done other things, turned the tables, bit my tongue, rocked the boat, abandoned ship, given numerous people the time of day. I've brought home the bacon, taken the easy way out, and danced to a different drummer(or so it appeared to my date). I am looking forward to being as old as the hills one day. However, failing that, maybe I will settle for rolling over in my grave, but not any time soon, thanks.
What do they seek, these westward-looking fellows?
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