Washouts and Wash ups
The firewood pile looks good, if a little small! But I figure I'll be sitting a little higher. Once I get paid for my firewood.
If you all recall, that wood had been waiting for trucking for a spell. The road washed out in spring 2005 when a quick thaw turned 6 feet of winter into 2 feet of mud.
The Dibbley boys and their hi-ho replanted the culvert and JM's mighty 9400 dumped 100 tons of riprap and gravel to anchor everything. Took two days and a few cases of brew and somehow we lost a roundhead shovel. But everything got fixed.
Red Brown, our colorful commissioner, at first protested. "You can't alter a running crick!"
"We ain't altering nothing. We're putting it back!"
Red's a reasonable man. "We'll I ain't been up to see the washout, so I guess when it's fixed it'll look the same as I remember it. I hope I won't be thirsty when I get back from inspecting everything."
"I'll have a cold case for you, Red." A man's got to have some reason to be township road commisioner. Sure ain't the pay or the hours!
"On call 36 hours a day!" Red's wife says. "And for less than Emmy earns in a good week at the diner."
If we went through regular channels, as they say, we'd still be waiting for an evironmental engineer to tell us that the creek flooded and washed the road out! Then they'd have a good long study to figure out how to put the creek back in its natural bed. We avoid regular channels at all costs around here.
Rustler's looking over my shoulder. Seems this is being scribbled on the scrap he's using to mark his hours.
"Mr Stump," Rustler has become a polite dude! (Sorry, I couldn't resist, dude.) "Mr Stump, thanks for not being official. "
"Yeah, well ... shouldn't you be washing that Durango."
"All done, Mr Stump!"
That Rustler's not a washout anymore, either. Not often that kinda thing happens. But when it does, well, a man feels that God is back in his heaven.
"Say, Rustler, I think you need to meet Pastor Rick! You just might be an inspiration."
If you all recall, that wood had been waiting for trucking for a spell. The road washed out in spring 2005 when a quick thaw turned 6 feet of winter into 2 feet of mud.
The Dibbley boys and their hi-ho replanted the culvert and JM's mighty 9400 dumped 100 tons of riprap and gravel to anchor everything. Took two days and a few cases of brew and somehow we lost a roundhead shovel. But everything got fixed.
Red Brown, our colorful commissioner, at first protested. "You can't alter a running crick!"
"We ain't altering nothing. We're putting it back!"
Red's a reasonable man. "We'll I ain't been up to see the washout, so I guess when it's fixed it'll look the same as I remember it. I hope I won't be thirsty when I get back from inspecting everything."
"I'll have a cold case for you, Red." A man's got to have some reason to be township road commisioner. Sure ain't the pay or the hours!
"On call 36 hours a day!" Red's wife says. "And for less than Emmy earns in a good week at the diner."
If we went through regular channels, as they say, we'd still be waiting for an evironmental engineer to tell us that the creek flooded and washed the road out! Then they'd have a good long study to figure out how to put the creek back in its natural bed. We avoid regular channels at all costs around here.
Rustler's looking over my shoulder. Seems this is being scribbled on the scrap he's using to mark his hours.
"Mr Stump," Rustler has become a polite dude! (Sorry, I couldn't resist, dude.) "Mr Stump, thanks for not being official. "
"Yeah, well ... shouldn't you be washing that Durango."
"All done, Mr Stump!"
That Rustler's not a washout anymore, either. Not often that kinda thing happens. But when it does, well, a man feels that God is back in his heaven.
"Say, Rustler, I think you need to meet Pastor Rick! You just might be an inspiration."
posted by wheatington at 12:48 PM
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