A Colorful Blast From Hick's Past

As The Pony and I were leaving Country Mart a couple weeks ago, a vehicle pulled in.

"I'm getting a picture of that for your dad. It looks like the kind of truck he had when we first met. Except the bed of this one is longer. But his was all different colors, too. The people at the pool would see him drive in on the weekend, after he'd picked up HOS and The (little future) Veteran. They'd say, 'Here comes Sandford and sons!'"

I wasn't sure of the year. I thought it was a 1965. I was right! Except Hick said his didn't have that roof shelf thingy sticking out, and he had a full back window, not the little one.

There's the long bed. Hick's version had a short bed. Which I suppose was just a regular bed. Hick's was darker in color. I can't really describe it. A lot of rust and red and dark blue, I think.

Anyhoo... this was back when I first met Hick. I lived in a townhouse apartment, and Hick lived across the parking lot in a regular 1-bedroom ground floor apartment. We met at the pool. When Hick started driving me around in his truck, he said he was planning on getting it painted. An Earl Scheib special ($29.95), he said! Money was tight then, as he had just been divorced less than a year.

Anyhoo... Hick had some spray paint, and painted only the passenger door. Just for me, he said. The top around the window was white, like this one in the picture. And the bottom of the door was royal blue. Only the best for Hick's new woman, heh, heh!

Anyhoo... I showed Hick these pictures of the truck, and he said:

"Oh, I know that truck. The lady who drives it delivers meals for the Senior Center."

Well. Not that day. A man got out of this truck.

The Pony liked the story of his dad painting the truck door just for me.

If a Tree Falls in the Woods, We Don't Hear the Sound

Hick's squirrel-hunting buddy was out here last week. His differently-abled brother comes along, and hunts from the tailgate of their truck parked in our driveway. Sometimes he will sit on the edge of the carport. They know how to hunt. Know their background. We're not in any danger of stray shots.

Anyhoo, the buddy walked down to the creek, toward the area of Hick's creekside cabin. There's no actual road, but a wide path where we've always driven the 4-wheelers or the Gator and the Scout. I don't drive them, but I was the passenger of a tweenage Genius many a time, white-knuckling my way down that boulder-strewn, leaf-covered path, holding on for dear life as the Gator pitched to and fro. 

Anyhoo... when Hick talked to the buddy later that day, he was told: "You're lucky you still have a cabin left! There are a couple trees down. I don't think you can drive down your road."

Hick made a trip on the Gator to investigate on Wednesday evening.

"Can't get to the cabin."

That's a pretty big tree. You have to look close to see the cabin on the other side.

There's the side view. The front door and porch face towards the creek. Hick can get there on foot now, but has to park the Gator and go around the tree. Looks like a job for HOS (Hick's Oldest Son) and a chainsaw. HOS can even sell the wood.

We figure this happened in the storm that knocked out our electricity for 13 hours. The trees behind the house were swirling that evening. We sit on top of a hill. This fallen tree is way down in the woods, surrounded by other trees to slow the wind, and down in a gully. I suppose it got swirled just right. Or wrong.

Festival Parking

At a concert, it's called Festival Seating. You can sit where you want. Some people in Backroads believe this concept also applies to parking. There's a guy who frequents the Gas Station Chicken Store who does this often.

I was parked in my rightful handicap space. There was a truck in front of me at the FREE AIR space. It's not designated for the FREE AIR hose, just has lines denoting a parking space. The maroon truck was there when I arrived. It had a handicap placard, but I suppose the guy needed air in his tires, or the lone handicap space had been occupied at that time.

Anyhoo... here's how we were situated:

Maroon Truck was within the lines of his parking space, and I was within the lines of mine. I had just gotten in with my scratchers, preparing to write on the back of them so I know where they came from in case I have a good winner. That's when Festival Parker arrived.

Festival Parker is a guy in a white SUV who parks BESIDE the handicap space. I've even seen him park there when the handicap space is open. It's not like he needs the handicap space. No designated plate or placard, and no visible signs of different-abledness. This day, he must have just come from work. He was wearing a neon yellow vest of the sort worn by people who work outside and want to avoid being run over. So was the passenger in his white SUV.

You can barely see Festival Parker's passenger here. It's not his fault. I didn't try to get his picture. The guy in the white truck is innocent. He was just squeezing by along the diesel pumps, to exit out the back alley. Festival Parker was blocking the driving lane. And also blocking me in.

My only way out was to back up. Which doesn't sound hard, but this is at the corner of the building. I'd be backing across the where two lanes exit the gas pumps, and people (like Festival Parker or diesel customers) come walking across after doing their business inside. T-Hoe's backup beeper doesn't work. So I have to keep my head on a swivel to keep from killing somebody.

Sometimes, I wish I could conceal-carry those tire-puncturing strips. Just for fun.

The Harem is Still Kickin'

I had just finished typing up yesterday's tale of the laundry room invader when Hick came in from mowing the front yard/field.

"I have to go back to town. One of the ladies is locked out of her apartment."

"What's the rush? Isn't there a key box for that?"

"It's her door. She says she has her key, but it won't unlock. It just keeps turning, but won't let her in. So I need to go see about it. She's sitting outside."

"Well, it's 70 degrees. She's probably fine."

"Yeah. There's a nice little outdoor area for them. But I don't want her unable to get into her apartment."

Of course no complaint from one of Hick's Harem is ever as it seems. They conveniently or inconveniently or obliviously leave out certain details. Which I discovered later that evening when Hick returned.

"So how did you fix her lock? Put on a new doorknob? Was the lock messed up, or what?"

"No. She wasn't strong enough. It was the deadbolt. She had the key in her hand. She'd turn it left to unlock, but that's what locks it. So then she'd turn it right, but there's a catch in it. She couldn't turn it hard enough. I put the key in and it worked first time. But she couldn't. So I fixed it so it didn't catch."

That  call was on Wednesday. We'll see if it can carry over into a Harem-free Friday.

More Harem Hijinx

Shockingly enough, there were no phone calls on Friday night from Hick's Harem! Not even the gal with the dog who needed his shot record for moving at the first of next month, even though she isn't moving until the END of next month because she made a clerical error with HUD. 

Don't let that missing phone call lull you into a false sense of complacency. A new issue has arisen. I called Hick on Wednesday, shortly after noon, about collar-training our roaming doggy, Pepper, and about his squirrel-hunting buddy roaming our acreage.

"What are you doing right now?"

"I'm at the apartments, putting signs in the laundry room. Somebody complained that they saw a woman bringing in laundry. It's happened a couple times. I think it's one of the gal's granddaughter. And there's a bunch of clothes laying around. A BUNCH of clothes."

"Well, you can't prove that they're hers."

"It's got a bunch of kids' clothes in it! They're all over the place."

"You should lock them up in your office!"

"I need to throw them away."

"NO! Don't throw anybody's clothes away! They're already trying to do their laundry for free. They can't afford new clothes."

"Yeah. I guess not."

"This way, she'll have to ASK for the clothes. So you know for sure it's her, and you can tell her you thought maybe some homeless person got in, and it's not a public laundry. That you almost threw the clothes away. Then she'll get the message that she shouldn't come back."

"My signs all say LAUNDRY IS FOR TENANTS ONLY. I have three signs on each floor's laundry room. One on the door, one above the washer, and one on the window by the dryer."

"What if she keeps doing it? What will you tell her grandma?"

"I'll tell her she can't let anybody else use the laundry, and if it happens again, she'll need to find somewhere else to live, because that's not allowed."

I can understand why the other residents don't want a granddaughter using their laundry room. She takes up the washer and dryer and all the space, when they might want to rightfully do their free laundry that's a perk of living in the apartments.

Now I'm curious how this story will end.

My Deep Cover Agent Brings Word of a Betrayal

Hick has stored the rich guy cabinets at Cheap House. I asked about that, because we have a BARn and a Freight Container Garage that SHOULD have room to store such items. Unless, of course, Hick has junked them up with his hoarder stuff. I'm pretty sure that the BARn is full. And probably the FCG as well.

"Why are you putting that kitchen stuff in Cheap House?"

"Because the trailer was just down the street, and it was easy to unload them there."

I accepted this excuse. The stove is supposed to be installed at Lap House, which is only a couple miles away. I still don't know exactly where the stove is. But I thought maybe it could have been in the way of the guy hired for $1000 to build some walls there. I suppose he is done. Hick sent some pictures.

That's a story for another day.

Here are the cabinets that came out of the rich guy's kitchen:

The plan is to use the cabinets in our flip house(s). There are too many for just one flip house.

In telling The Pony about the hired walls being done in Lap House, I unearthed a nugget of information. Which might explain Hick's snippiness on Sunday when I asked about the storage of the kitchen items.

"Maybe now that the walls are up, Dad can get to work and get Lap House done and listed."

"He supposedly only has a couple walls to put up in Cheap House, and then it can go on the market."

"Well, he really wants to finish that one, too."

"WHAT? I KNEW he'd pull this! That was not the deal!"

"Well, when he drove me home last night after training the dog, he said he thinks another $10,000 will get Cheap House finished. And then we could ask $100,000-something, instead of just selling it to a flipper."

"For only $10,000? It needs an HVAC system! And kitchen appliances, and bathroom stuff, and flooring! Plus labor! I can't imagine that would only cost $10,000."

So... Hick has been keeping this plan from me, while telling The Pony, who is not crazy about it, because of the money going out before any money comes in.

Hick and I need to have a "discussion" about our flipping partnership with The Pony. I don't think ONE is a majority.

Fetching the Bargain Kitchen

Remember the rich guy Hick was buying memorabilia from? Who promised Hick that he could have the old kitchen when his new kitchen was installed? That installation has been happening. Hick was supposed to fetch the cabinets and stuff this weekend. The original deal was that Hick could have it for free, just to haul it off. The revised deal (because the rich guy's wife objected) was for Hick to pay $400-$500 for the privilege of hauling off the old kitchen. He has not yet paid, so I hope this price sticks!

Anyhoo... Hick couldn't wouldn't leave his precious SUS2.5 (Storage Unit Store 2.5) to pick up his "new" kitchen. He knew it would take him several trips. He didn't want to go on Friday, when he leaves the SUS2.5 at noon. Not driving a trailer to the city on Friday evening!

As usual, Hick fell back-rumpusward into luck. A buddy from the flea market offered to drive his trailer there as well, and help with loading, as long as Hick paid for his gas. DEAL! Hick also took HOS (Hick's Oldest Son) with him, and a young kid from the flea market who does odd jobs. 

They left on Saturday at 3:30. It's about a 2-hour drive from the SUS2.5 to the guy's house. They loaded two trailers (good thing Hick just spent $300 for a set of new tires on his trailer) and brought the kitchen stuff back to the town where Cheap House sits. Hick parked his trailer in the buddy's brother's driveway overnight, because it was just down the street from Cheap House. Then went back with HOS to unload it on Sunday evening.

They didn't get everything. Another trip to the city is required, because the remodelers weren't done tearing out all of the kitchen. But Hick got cabinets, a stove, a countertop, and a big piece of granite that weighs 900 pounds that he doesn't know what he'll do with.

So far, there's only a picture of the stove:

Hick plans to put this stove in Lap House. I'm not sure if that's where the picture is from. He might have just stored it in Cheap House for now, because it was so close to where he left the trailer.

Anyhoo... Hick was shocked at the value of this stove.

"I had no idea what that stove is worth. It's a Viking. I looked it up online, and a new one is $5000! I knew it was a good stove when I seen that the burners were cast iron, and not just metal like a regular burner."

Heh, heh. That stove might be worth more than the house. Anyhoo... Lap House already has gas service, so it won't be any problem to hook up a gas stove there.

I'll show more of the kitchen loot when Hick takes more pictures.