Tuesday, August 19, 2008

Redneck Convention

Sometimes my mother exaggerates. But when it comes to the goofy little man who came to cut down the tree, I think she may have understated the facts.

She said he looked scary, old, and smelled bad. Or, as she had put it, "like he hadn't had a bath in five or six years."

Luckily, I was spared the ulfactory portion of his presence this morning. But I couldn't help but notice how this man of 57 looked at least 80. And he had a horrifying resemblance to the Tall Man in the movie Phantasm. (Except this guy was really short. So picture Angus Scrimm smashed down to about 5'3 and you've got it.) But I digress.

Toby screamed most of the night and the few times he shut up and I slept, the mother was padding around the kitchen (just opposite my wall). I finally gave up and got up at 6 a.m. and started working on things for work. This went on until almost 9:30. Then I went outside.

The tree crew was supposed to be here at 10. Uh-huh. Around 10:30-ish, I see a red truck hauling a trailer on the next street over. It turned the other way and then disappeared. I went back to my gravel. Suddenly, the red truck came tearing through the alley in a cloud of dust. Two guys emerged. I have no idea what their names were but I was calling them Bubba and Roy. Bubba was about 6'5 at least. He was very young and awkward and looked something like a cartoon character. Roy was older, short, and very dark. He had this look about him that just put me off, like that of a used car salesman. (Maybe it was the comb-back do, with every hair in place ala Wayne Newton.)

They were pleasant enough to be sure but seemed a few sandwiches shy of a picnic. They began picking up the mess from yesterday as a bigger, industrial truck appeared in the alley. The driver reminded me of the lead singer of an Australian '80s band called Midnight Oil. His passenger: the mini-Angus.

I greeted them all and we exchanged morning niceties. Then I stood back and surveyed the collective crew. Oh. My. God. There's a Redneck Convention. And it's happening in my backyard.

They even left me a souvenir: mini-Angus's camper top. Mr. Midnight Oil told me that mini-Angus's transmission had gone out. They'd be back later to pick up the camper shell. In the meantime, it's been moved to the rocks where the old sidewalk had hung out.

It's still there now. So the Redneck Convention is alive and well and still in my backyard.

8 comments:

Vicki @ notsosahm.wordpress.com said...

Woohoo! You just got yerself a nice new camper shell! I knew rednecks didn't just reside in the South. In fact most of my relatives from Indiana could be considered such.

Ty'sMommy said...

HA! Oh lord, you are officially NOT allowed to come to my house. You would die if you saw the people that live where I do. Actually, if you want to see a REAL redneck convention, come by later this fall when we are putting up our new siding....it should be VERY interesting.....

J.Bro said...

Yee-haw - put 'er up on blocks!

MonkeyGirl said...

Maybe mini-Angus could use the camper shell as a bathtub since his pick-em-up truck ain't workin' no mores.

NV said...

V -- My neighbor, who recommended these guys in the first place, keeps askin' when I'm getting the truck to go with my shell.

ty'smommy- I've been up that way. (Dated a guy from Brighton.) I think we all have relatives with twinges of crimson at the collar. :-)

j.bro -- that's a thought. Might could put er on the auction block if he'd have left it in my way.

MG -- That's a fab idea. The dude could probably find more uses for it that way.

Ann said...

And now we all have to forgive you for not taking pictures!!!!!!

Midnight Oil! LOL!

elaine said...

If rednecks covered Midnight Oil songs:

"How kin we daaaance when that thar Earth is a-turnin'? Shoot, son. How do we sleeeeeep when our beds are a-burnin'?"

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