Pick a lot, talk a little

  Ya, I was the guy “The Great Coonyard” was “Mouthing Off” about in Ascent 1970.   Did a few routes and moved back to Iowa.  Well maybe not the guy…      Never been able to drown out the urge though. Haven’t been able to kick it.  Have had to find new ways to ‘feed the rat’ as a dude was heard to say at Snell’s field long ago.   

  A Home Depot not far from my house has a block retaining wall about 25 feet tall and 300 feet long.  I hid a five gal water jug in the bushes nearby and would run over with a small pack, load the jug, and traverse back and forth.  Arms ‘d get plenty tired after a few laps and I’d start to get scared if near the top. Perfect.     

  I’d do this at about 5AM so as not to draw attention.  But last spring a couple old ladies began to power walk across the parking lot at its base.  They’d be flapjawing and pumping their arms like, well, you know.  Looks stupid as hell.     

  By the end of June I was starting to get fit and looking forward to a foray west when one morning, as I was shaking out near the top, Colonel Sanders peered over.  The women stopped below to watch.     

  “Boy” (I’m 55) “if I find you here again, I’m gonna have to call the cops”.    

  “I’m not hurting anything, I’m …”     

  “Whatever.  Ya fall and sue, it’ll be my behind.  Those women down there keep calling so we know.  I’m sick of talking with ‘em”.  

  I looked down and they quickly averted their gaze and flapped away like pigeons from the Bastille Crack.  Annoying, scary even,  but not a life changing event. At least that’s what I tried to tell myself – glad not to be one of the poor saps that shared their roost.                 

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