Some time back, I found myself in the repair shop, as the axel of my trailer needed to be repaired.
‘Why? why is this happening to me?’ I muttered under my breath. Then it hit me like a six pack of PBR flying through the air and hitting me in the head… the word ‘why‘ was flicking the mechanical tongue of time, keeping the reflection bouncing off my reflective trailer, back and forth, so it could never reach its root – the imagination.
Across the street in the Waffle House parking lot, a crowd was observing a great looking RV. The mechanic and I stood there, discussing who or what they could be talking about. Ah friend, we were symptoms of a Carnie and a Mechanic’s soul strutting around, asking each other to touch each other’s RV’s, and wanting a compliment.
Oh… Almost forgot… outside, by the trashcan, there were flies buzzing around. Yep, there’s no stopping a fly’s short lived ego’s attempt to buzz around un-emptied trash cans, mate, and ‘live’ forever.
Got to run… A storm is approaching, so come on in and pop open a a PBR with me.
A storm is approaching, come on in and pop open a a PBR with me.
