Nice and cool this mornin'. Tried the truck last night; no leaks. Didn't even put the fuel pump back on, just patched the line, took it off, see if it runs without. It was an extra, for starters; I think it was a hot rodder, owned the truck 'fore it came to the ranch. But, these days, 45 miles an hour, once a week to the tradin' post, I think the internal pump, come standard, s'likely, good enough.
Hauled a tank a water out ta the wild bunch; first year I remember, everyone of our dirt tanks, is just a dusty bowl. Got ta visit, give each one a good scratch with the curry. Funny year for bugs, too. Tiny little fly, I don't remember much, the only kid on the block. But, tiny as they are, they must be all teeth and sting; even the horses got big ol' welts.
So, I hope y'all got ta see Dave Saunders, singin' "Rusty, the three legged horse". And, just in case ya think it couldn't be, horses, angels and all, I'll tell ya a story that happened ta me.
I guess you could say I had a troubled youth. My family broke apart and I wasn't too comfortable when my mom re-married. My dad had died and the horses I grew up with got sold off. I left pretty young and got into 'bout every kinda trouble you can think of. Well, I'd started out in the northwoods, not too far from Canada and wound up in California; finally pickin' up some construction work, get by. I got ta know some a the fellas on the job and word a mouth, found a room for rent, in a house outside L.A., near the beach. An elder East Indian gentleman lived there and we got ta be friends. Sometimes, I figure, he became my foster dad, though I could only wish I'd ever had a dad like that. Simple, deep and kind, like a great lazy river, he gave me a sense of home and love I'd never known. We both knew, day would come, when I'd be gentled, quenched and nourished by that water and grass he brought to that valley and when the time approached, he'd always tell me, "when you find yer place and get settled, I'll come and visit".
Well, I went and drove trucks, long haul, for some 6, or 7years, more time alone, digestin', tryin' make sense a things, but we always kept in touch. I was drivin' for a company out a Missoula, haulin' lumber out a California, back East and aluminum, from the East, back. Whenever I got pretty close to L.A., I'd park the truck out in the desert and take a bus into town and we'd visit. He loved ta cook and he'd make me a huge meal, fiery hot, make me wash it down with cold brandy. I'd sleep for a couple a days, then head back to the truck and the road. Finally, I started feelin' this prayer dawnin' like a flower deep inside; prayer for a bridge, 'tween the love I'd found and the life I had ta lead. I started dreamin' 'bout horses, again.
And, that's a lot for today, how 'bout I pick it up tomorrow.
Have a great day!
P.S. Case ya didn't find that song, I'll post the link again: