The radio in my truck played a Ray Price song on the freeway around Black River Falls yesterday. The combination of freeway and pedal steel transported me back in time to 1973 riding in our F-250 with my Dad and our friend Ray out to see some other old guy about something, I never did know what. What I did know was that this other old guy lived on a big crazy farm that used to be a little town called “Renova” and that while the old guys were talking and drinking Oly I’d be rummaging around in the old buildings and playing nascar (I was David Pearson) in one of the many abandoned cars lying around in the meadow. There was always a radio playing somewhere, always a song with that smooth pedal steel sound in it, I always found some treasure or another and came back to the garage where the old guys were sitting around on lawn chairs and I was filthy and ripped up but they always just smiled and let me keep whatever junk I could carry. I rode back to town standing on the seat between Dad and Ray, a hand on both of their shoulders, and listened to more old country radio and them talking the old guy gossip (“why in hell won’t he ever fix a car instead of buying a new one and settin’ the old one out in the goddam pasture?”). I was so, so lucky. My Dad was always there for me, he still is here, the strongest man I ever known. Happy Father’s Day, Dad. We didn’t get enough time, did we? I’m happy to be home again and struggling to push my poor old dull-bladed mower through the tall grass (gonna take a vice-grips and a hammer to get the blade off for sharpening) and looking forward to a bunch of shows around home (Ryan’s got them all up on the website if yr interested), but right now I just want to lay in the grass.
Posted on: Wed, 12 Jun 2013 15:45:05 +0000
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