Allow me to paraphrase
Bach. “Mrs. Hillbilly Mom is never given a problem without Even Steven
providing a solution. She may not like it, though.”
The Pony has been
practicing his driving in T-Hoe. He is a ball of nerves, sitting with his chin
over the steering wheel, shoulders tense, his hands with a grip like an eagle’s
talons on a fat groundhog. He commented after his second day of chauffeuring me
home from Newmentia that there seemed to be something wrong with the steering wheel.
There was a rough crumbly substance on it, he said.
The next morning, I,
too, noticed a dark powder on the wheel. And on the armrest amongst the myriad of
window, mirror, and door lock controls. Huh. Maybe something blew into the air
ducts. But more than likely, The Pony had ground down the leather like a
12-year-old nag had ground down his horse teeth. He HAD mentioned that there
was a rough spot on the left side, at about the 10 o’clock position.
“I know. It’s been
there for years. Like a scratch. With three cat claws. I think your dad did it
with his wedding ring. Or he just picked at it. Like he used to do with the
edge of the table next to the La-Z-Boy.”
Let the record show
that the rough spot has been on T-Hoe’s steering wheel for at least five years.
It’s annoying. Unpleasant for Mrs. Hillbilly Mom’s soft-as-a-baby’s-butt hands.
Flash forward to
Sunday, when Mrs. HM got into T-Hoe for a trip to town to gather a 44 oz Diet
Coke, and supplies for Chex makin’ from Save A Lot.
THE ROUGH SPOT WAS
GONE!
Short of a miraculous
healing of long-dead leather, Mrs. HM could only come up with one solution. The
dietary habits of Farmer H.
We made a stop on the
way to visit the #1 son in College Town on Saturday. At that stop, in order to
use the facilities, Mrs. HM bought some lottery tickets and water, and Farmer H
bought a Diet Mountain Dew and a Slim Jim. Let the record show that Mrs. HM paid for it all. And that it was a
double Slim Jim, and Farmer H shared it. Which meant he unwrapped his own portion,
and peeled back the plastic.
Farmer H inadvertently repared the previous damage he had inflicted on T-Hoe by slathering the
steering wheel with Slim Jim grease.
I’m sure there’s a Common Fixes for Everyday Problems book somewhere inside Farmer H. And he
doesn’t even know it’s trying to get out.
2 comments:
I think you're onto a great idea. When you two retire, you can sit at your computer, tap-tap-tapping away, while Farmer H rattles off his DIY solutions that involve duct tape and spit and beef jerky grease and the broth droplets from a tower of soup.
You will HAVE to type, because Farmer H cannot be bothered with typing them up. His brilliance should not be slowed down...
Sioux,
Farmer H has made comments to the effect that he is considering building me A WRITING RETREAT! At last, a shack of my own! Of course he will put it right in the front yard where the 5th wheel camper used to sit. And he won't do it until the summer after he retires. But it's progress! Perhaps he got wind of your idea for me to write his book...
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