Sometime shortly after I mustered out of the U.S. Navy… I found me suddenly in need of a car, a vehicle, a mode of transport, fuckin’ wheels. Never really havin’ given two shits ‘bout such, I found myself in front of a pawn shop in Honey Grove Texas early one morning. Too early, in fact.
But, I skip ahead (as is my wont)
Let us go back in time (just a few hours; be patient) I had fallen ‘in love’ with a woman (It happens) Got drunk one late night; decided I needed counsel (from Peanut—My Yoda—problem was, I was in Commerce, Texas and Yoda was in Honey Grove, miles and miles and styles away) What to do? Drive to see him on Endor. Jumped into my chariot and almost made it. Alas! A bar ditch jumped up in front of me. The car did not survive. Happily, I did, but now I had a real problem: Yoda was still miles away. Walked the two miles to HG and spied a vehicle “For Sale” Walked in to the pawn shop and inquired: “Yall take credit cards?” “No Son; we do not.” “Damn shame,” I said. “’Cause I wanna buy that car y’all got for sale out yonder. Well see ya.” “Wait! Wait! We can make an exception!” “OK, gas her up and get her ready.”
And the rest, as they say, was History.
P.S. This post was inspired by a memory my good friend Mark, over at
I dip snuff. (Copenhagen Regular Cut, for those snuff aficionados out there, who may have inquiring minds)
There! I admitted it!
After so many years of being a self-tormented closet snuffer’er I have finally come out.
I feel better.
Whew! One less load to carry. One less ax to grind. One less ass to bare. One less woman who may have been considering me with a favorable eye… Well, three out of four favorable results will get you into the Hall of Fame.
‘Tis a habit I acquired whilst in BUD/s Class 140, circa 1986.
For some uninitiated: That stands for “Basic Underwater Demolition/SEAL training” SEAL Boot-Camp, if you will: Class 140.