Wednesday, August 24, 2016

One For All And All For Naught

Today Mrs. Hillbilly Mom outsmarted herself.

I know that's hard to believe. Because Mrs. HM IS so very smart. A former valedictorian, in fact. Have you heard?

So...we had a major downpour this morning. Internet was down. Even the TV went off. It lasted about an hour, or 90 minutes. I figured surely those ROCKERS would give it up. They can't even turn their giant flatbed trailer around in there on a good day with firm soil.

I headed to town at 10:00. I could see that our main gravel road was kind of chewed up in front of the Mansion and BARn field. So I supposed that big truck had gone past at least once to turn around up at the other end. The field where the rocks were being loaded was bereft of people, but full of ruts about 18 inches deep. Their Bobcat as parked there. And a white pickup truck. As I passed by the neighbors' barn, which is almost in the gravel road, I gave a long look at the opposite hill where I would be going. You can see it through the trees if the foliage is not too thick. Nothing.

Down the hill and around the bend I went. On to Save A Lot and to get my 44 oz Diet Coke. Today without the company of a former student. I had been gone about an hour. EmBee only gave me a sale pamphlet from The Lighter Side. I stuffed it in my purse for later disposal, and crested the first hill, keeping an eye on the barn hill for a giant flatbed semi.


The white cab of that semi truck was visible through the trees. Right at the top of the neighbors' barn hill. Such a predicament. I could drive on up, since it looked like the semi was stationary. But where would I put T-Hoe's tires to get around it? There's a deep ditch on the side of the road. Decisions, decisions. I couldn't do it. Have I mentioned that I am sick of these ROCKERS? I kept going. Up the long hill that goes past our separate 10 acres that we bought for the boys. Out the back entrance to the compound. A distance of two miles on gravel.

I figured that the semi would notice I wasn't coming up the hill, and would come down. Go about its business. Then it would be out of my way when I came back. But which way would it go? Would it follow me up the straighter section of gravel? No problem. Or would it go out by EmBee, and take the blacktop road with only two curves? The road I would be coming back on.

Mrs. HM remained ever vigilant. Watching the blacktop for signs of muddy tread. Ready on those two curves to get over. Quick. But the signs did not materialize. Nor did the creekside gravel road by EmBee look any worse for wear than when I had come in 15 minutes earlier. I crested that hill before the neighbors' barn hill. And there was the white semi! Still in the same place. I'll be ding dang donged! All that for nothing. How was I going to get around that truck? I put T-Hoe in 4WD. Just in case I got off in the muddy deep ditch.

Wait a minute! What's this? A white pickup truck came from the other way. I looked to see if it was our next-door neighbor in his city public works truck, but it was instead an old man with white hair. And he stopped! Almost beside me. Yet he didn't roll down his window. Only took out a cell phone. So I proceeded. Ever vigilant.

My detour had gained me nothing but wasted time.

When I got to the top of the neighbors' barn hill, that semi was not sitting there! It must have backed up. Maybe Whitey called and told the driver to get out of the way. Because it was parked on the wrong side of the road, with 9 of its 18 wheels on the land of the rock-giver, and 9 of its 18 wheels in the middle of the gravel road. Where a center line would be painted if you could paint a gravel road. I got over in the squishy grass by the neighbors' horse fence, and eased around.

As I passed, I saw the path that semi (fully loaded with giant rocks, all strapped down) had taken to park like that. It had driven along the load of 2-inch-plus gravel, scooped generously into our ditch to combat erosion down the hill, that Farmer H had paid his buddy, Buddy, to haul for him last night. And now it was packed into the mud by that rock-loaded semi.

I suppose Farmer H outsmarted himself, too. Paying for, and spending two hours scooping and smoothing gravel, to make an unintended parking spot for the ROCKERS.


Sioux said...

Hey, kid...


James Dean...

Rock on!

What song is it? (I don't even remember, without consulting Dr. Google.)

Hillbilly Mom said...

Okay. You forced a contentious reunion between Mrs. HM and her estranged BFF Google.

At first I thought it might be "Life is a Rock," with really fast lyrics. That's on my 70s Music Explosion: One Hit Wonders CD. But the more I ran it through my head, I knew that wasn't it.

The key was "Jimmy Dean, JAMES DEAN." Also, I remembered "blue jean baby queen." So I found it for you: Def Leppard, "Rock On."

OR the more Mrs.-Hillbilly-Mom-esque version, the one she cut her teeth on, by David Essex:

Let the record show that I see you as a Def Leppard kind of gal, Madam.