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July 18, 2011

  First and Last time I deliver hay!


    Call me a glutton for punishment. Trailer squealing. Bouncing up the road with hay bales lashed down with straps on the truck and the trailer. I hate hauling anything. You would think after driving OTR it would not bother me. My OCD kicks in and I want to stop every mile and check to make sure the ball and hitch are still together. It amazes me how much that pin on those big trucks can take. I mean, one big king pin. That's it. Well, I finally settle down and the trailer happily bounces along and I unhappily get slapped around inside the stiff-suspension truck. After nearly an hour of driving I turn down this narrow one lane road in the middle of nowhere. Good thing I had good old country directions which included turning at the biggest oak tree I ever saw, travel three forks down and turn right, and hook another right when you see the yellow two story with the big porch. Follow that out for a few hills and then when you get around the sharp bend and go down in the holler ther'll-be a motor engine with a chain welded to hold up the mail box. You take that dirt road to the white house at the bottom. We'll get you turned around once you get here.

The trip did not stop getting interesting from there. Nope, not by a long shot.


A bent over old fellar comes out of the house, his beard clean, but scruffy. He was salt-and-pepper grey and about as backwoods as it gets. He proceeds to tell me to watch out for the ram that's running loose because he likes to head butt. He's looking around and asks me where my help was. I'm looking at his physical condition and then those fifty bales on the truck. "Well, looks like I'm it. Guess you don't have any grandkids around today?"


He shakes his head disgusted, "Even if I did I can't get them to lift a finger off those computer gadgets."

I nodded and knew all too well what he meant.


Pulling back a tarp he revealed a four-wheeler. Before long we were taking one at a time on the wheeler, dropping them at the door of the barn. Once we got them all off the truck and trailer they had to be walked up a set of steps. Yah, you know who did that part while the old fellar stacked them. After two hours of that nonsense and dealing with the smell of sheep, came the task of getting the trailer turned around. It turned into an unhitch, lift and push it backwards by hand and then turn the truck around. Attach, get my money that was mostly fuel and twine, and get out of there before the rain storm hit. Didn't quite make it to the main rain when I was deluged.

That's the shortened version of why anyone who wants hay will come and get it at my house from now on. Never again.


 Talked to Candis about trading meat chickens for laying hens and while she's talking her husband said a coon killed two of them just now. There's one left and the bet is it will be gone by Wednesday. So much for that trade. I was looking forward to some good chicken soup.