.
Here's Easter!
Just another day on the LMA!
.
Poor old boy, barely getting by!
Sorry Easter, you'll just have to tough it out.
.
So oneday I was talking to Grandpa.
Grandpa I don't understand something.
What's that Mike?
Grandpa evrybody in my family plays golf; bowls; are good mechanics; know everything I don't know.
Why is it that I love the horses when no one else seems to?
Grandpa- "Well Mike that is probably my fault".
Hows that Grandpa?
Well Mike, back in the day I used to be a pickup man. After the days work we would circle the cars with our lights on as it got dark.
the boys would gamble their days earnings on various sports. Bullwhip compititions; boxing, spitting; BS ing; telling various and assorted lies. You understand don't you?
Sort of Grandpa, but where does that answer the question about me, and why am I the horseman?
Well Mike, you probably got that from me.
You see back at that time they had wild horses, when we circled the trucks the boys had to ride the horses to a stand still. Many times the horses would stop bucking then take off running.
In those days the pickup man's job was to help the buckeroo bring the horse back.
You were not expected to bring the buckeroo back, if he was still mounted, good for him.
Yes Grandpa, now I understand! Thanks.
Here's Easter!
Just another day on the LMA!
.Poor old boy, barely getting by!
Sorry Easter, you'll just have to tough it out.
.
So oneday I was talking to Grandpa.
Grandpa I don't understand something.
What's that Mike?
Grandpa evrybody in my family plays golf; bowls; are good mechanics; know everything I don't know.
Why is it that I love the horses when no one else seems to?
Grandpa- "Well Mike that is probably my fault".
Hows that Grandpa?
Well Mike, back in the day I used to be a pickup man. After the days work we would circle the cars with our lights on as it got dark.
the boys would gamble their days earnings on various sports. Bullwhip compititions; boxing, spitting; BS ing; telling various and assorted lies. You understand don't you?
Sort of Grandpa, but where does that answer the question about me, and why am I the horseman?
Well Mike, you probably got that from me.
You see back at that time they had wild horses, when we circled the trucks the boys had to ride the horses to a stand still. Many times the horses would stop bucking then take off running.
In those days the pickup man's job was to help the buckeroo bring the horse back.
You were not expected to bring the buckeroo back, if he was still mounted, good for him.
Yes Grandpa, now I understand! Thanks.
Posts
2 comments:
I'm sure glad you post these stories, Mikey. I know absolutely nothing about my grandparents. LY
sGuess I did it wrong the first time. So will try it again.
Your dad, Merle, was born in a tent in a hay field.
Dad, Mom, and the six boys came to Idaho in a 1929 two-door Plymouth. They packed their belongings in the back seat, up to the top of the front seats, then placed a matress on top of the belongings for the boys to ride on. That had to be one long ride.
Post a Comment