The Gas Station Chicken Store Needs To Look Into Delivery

As a corollary to yesterday's topic...

I had not even gone a half mile this morning before I saw that it was going to be deja vu all over again. I was headed for the bank, then (the real reason for a trip to town, of course) the gas station chicken store to pick up my 44 oz Diet Coke.

I gave Jack and Juno three kibbles and a handful of cat kibble, respectively. That way I made sure Puppy Jack, who has delusions of being a house dog with his Dachshund half, and is hardwired to being underfoot with his Heeler half, did not follow me into the garage and perhaps get under the tires of T-Hoe as I backed out. Up the driveway and down the gravel road I went.

In front of the barn neighbors' house, they who lost their beautiful Husky twice within a week, I encountered another vehicle surging up the blind curvy hill. It was a white truck pulling a pontoon boat. That's right! A PONTOON BOAT! They're pretty wide, you know. Not just a little fishing boat with an outboard motor. How he made the turns with it I'll never know. Nor will I know where he thought he was going with it.

This is Friday. The weekend. Why would he be taking his pontoon up in here in our compound, into the forest? There is NO body of water here where he could launch that pontoon boat. At least he had the good manners to nod at me as I drove T-Hoe's right front tire up on an 18-inch boulder at the road edge, and into Nabe's yard to let him pass.

The next guy was not so polite. I made it almost two miles farther, on the blacktop county road. I always stay on my side, you know. Unless I can see up ahead that nobody is coming, and then I cut to the inside of the curves. Because I can. But this last curve before I hit the lettered highway is not one of them. Cars run off there all the time due to speeding. It's quite sharp. And blind. So I am always extra careful to slow down and stay on my side. You never know when you're going to meet one of those septic-tank-sucker trucks. They yield to no driver.

And wouldn't you know it? Even though Mrs. Hillbilly Mom was on her own side of the road, the red pickup that came around pulling a camper trailer was NOT. He ran me off the road with two wheels. T-Hoe's right wheels. Thank the Gummi Mary, there is no deep ditch there. Just a sloping drop-off into some people's yard, then a forest. Adding insult to injury, I was so busy keeping T-Hoe from turning over, I could not even HONK at him to show my displeasure.

Some days, I think that 44 oz Diet Coke is going to be the death of me.