Of course you'll hear about the outcome of Val's gambling excursion. But not today! Tomorrow, perhaps. I want to take a picture, and I can't send it to myself until I go back to town and have cell reception good enough.
I have other pictures, though! From the trip. Some planned. One not. Let's start with that one, shall we?
That's Hick's belly. Let the record show that even Val will defend Hick on this one. His belly is not as big as it looks there. He jams that seat up as far as it will go, so his belly rubs against the steering wheel. He does that in every vehicle. Also appearing in this photo are Hick's phone holster on his belt, with the top flap flipped open. His leg in jeans. the earpiece of my sunglasses. The car charger cord for Hick's phone. And that's all I can make out. I did NOT take this photo surreptitiously to get back at Hick. I put my phone down in the center console, and it went crazy. I kept hearing clicking sounds. When I picked it up, Phony was taking video. I guess Genius put a spell on it before he gave it to me in exchange for a brand new phone for himself. Anyhoo...I had six identical pictures of Hick's belly. I deleted five.
On the outside of the car, we saw some big road-blockers again. This time after Casinopalooza, on the way to visit The Pony at OU. I think Hick is a road-blocker magnet. There was this thing.
We don't know what it was, but we passed it on an uphill on I-44 south of Rolla on our way to Joplin. It was movin' mighty slow, but there was that extra trucking lane for it to move over. This picture was two days later.
Our old friend had broken down in Pryor, Oklahoma. Pretty sure that's what happened. I doubt the crew was attending church, or having brunch. It was still there when we came home Monday. Any ideas what this is? I say it's part of a nuclear reactor. I could be wrong. Hick and The Ex-Mayor think it's a pipe. The Ex-Mayor said maybe it couldn't travel on weekends due to state regulations. Or that it was broken down and waiting for a new trailer. Hick said the trailer was special made, and would be repaired roadside, because it would cost too much to make a new one. I can't really prove either one of them right or wrong. So they'll say what they want and hope you believe it.
Not 30 minutes later, Hick and I came upon another giant road-blocker. Two.
Hick says they're crushers of some kind. Maybe rock crushers. I just know they slow down traffic, and might explain why the non-turnpike Oklahoma highways are like driving over a washboard in a hooptie with no shocks.
Anyhoo, now for the story of
Hick takes offense when all the air whooshes out of my lungs when he hits the only hole in the road, or drives over interstate land-jetsam.
"You know your noises aren't helping..."
"What did you just run over?"
"It was just a patch of dark pavement."
"That was a great big jolt for a patch of dark pavement."
"It's the road. I don't know what you think I can do about the road. You don't even have your glasses on, Val. It could have been a dog for all you know."
Leave it to Hick to lighten the mood, huh? Let's hope he could see an actual dog and avoid it. Maybe I left my glasses off because I didn't want to see what he was doing. Like sticking his finger in his ear and twisting it around and taking it out and looking at it, THEN PUTTING HIS HAND BACK ON A-CAD'S STEERING WHEEL!
"I wish you wouldn't do that. I don't want your earwax all over my steering wheel."
"What am I supposed to do? My ear itches."
"You don't have to put your waxy finger on my steering wheel."
"Then what do you want me to do."
"Wipe it on your pants or something."
Which is what Hick did. All the other times he dug around in his ear. With the same hand he used to dig into a mini bag of Lay's Beer n Bratwurst chips. I offered to hold the bag for him, since I did not want a repeat of him tilting his one-eyed head back to eat the crumbs while driving 85 mph.
"Do you have to root around like that? It's like at the movies. You grind your hand down in the popcorn and then crush it against your mouth to eat."
"I can't help it, Val. I can't get my hand in it." Hick said accusatorily. Like I made the bags, not Lay's.
I don't control the size of his hand OR the bag of chips. I didn't think it was a good time to tell him. Just in case a dog wandered across the road.