Curmudgeonland...home Of The Old Farts Club

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Hippie

Hippie

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Stoney, I dig where you're coming from on crowds. Put me in the concrete jungle standing shoulder to shoulder with city types and watch me look for a way out. The bunch at the Cup don't bother me any. Hell, this is my town! I waltz through the place and find a shady place to sit, get high, and people (read; pussy) watch. Shootin' the shit with my bros is really my main reason for even going.

Besides, ya got three of the OFC's biggest, baddest mo fo's right there beside ya!:)
 
Kraven

Kraven

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Good idea....need my recliner for plaid.


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kevinn

kevinn

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Yard dog said:
morning sunbaked. thanks for looking out for me, it takes all i can do to keep my tail from getting runned over.

One of my fondest memories of my dad.
I was young, about 7 years old. we are riding in the old Chevy truck, creeping through the main trail at our land, my dog Blackie is in the passenger floorboard, i am in the middle seat, and my dad is wearing a flannel jacket. headed into the woods to cut a few loads of firewood. me and Blackie was headed to play, and my dad was going to be cutting the wood. I remember at that age, my dad was the biggest thing, period. he was on a living legend status about that time for me. that short memory is so very vivid for me, i wish i could always remember it as clearly as i can now.
I go into the woods now, the land has been cut. i hardly recognize where i am anymore, but i can go to almost any spot there and close my eyes and remember the wild wonderful forest of my childhood, when 40 acres was a massive forest, boundaries distant and unseen by my eyes . i can see what it looked like then, pristine, shaded and cool, and alive with the noises of unseen critters. hours spent making mud and stick dams at the creek, the excitement of watching my dad fell a tree, as soon as it fell, shaking the ground with its untold weight, i would walk the length of it, stump to limb. the smell of fresh cut Red Oak, mixed with two stroke smoke, and the earthy musty smell of an old truck with a wet dog and the smell of cut wood, sweat and filth riding home with a job well done.
Times do change, the best dog i ever had has been gone for 18 years now, the 40 acres feels like a postage stamp, with it clear-cut i can see end to end now with a good vantage point. My dad is no longer held elevated to a large glamorous pedestal of a young child's mind. He is a meager man, like us all. faults and imperfections that i could not see at 7 years old.
I am now burdened with the weight of a mans world, much like my dad was in my memory, only i was too naive to understand then.
Oh the feeling of yesterday. of summer vacations that lasted a lifetime, endless sunny days when the bicycle wheels never stopped turning, fishing pole strapped to the handle bars, a backpack with drinks and snack cakes, a radio and good friends.
I had a childhood most my age would never imagine. hard work, long hours and penny pinching at each corner, and i loved every moment of it, i was raised with the character only earned through hard work, and the dedication to family above all else. I am truly thankful for my country upbringing.
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Well said !!!!!!!!!
 
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