Did I ever tell you
The Uncle NoPass Chronicles
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Did I ever tell you
The Uncle NoPass Chronicles |
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17 December 2003 Did I ever tell you I wanted to be a driver in the Army? We had decided to hunt at Mr. Murty’s place out past Bleeker, Alabama, so I met Uncle NoPass and his grandson Brag at NoPass’s house about 9, Saturday morning. Uncle NoPass was in a fine mood and set near a floor heater talking about past hunts while taking his own sweet time putting on his boots. My Aunt told him to hurry up and get out from under her feet. She proclaimed that he had been complaining only 30 minutes before about the late start and now He was delaying the “boys” another 30 minutes while he put on his boots. Since we were hunting on Middle Boy‘s deer property, I had decided to leave Uncle NoPass‘s about 9:30 and be at Mr. Murty‘s about 10. When we pulled into the muddy front yard of the old abandoned farm house that was slowly surrendering to decay and vines, Uncle NoPass was wrapping up a story with “That’s cause I wanted to be a driver in the army in World War 2 but they said I shot to good for that so….”. It turned out Middle Boy hadn’t needed to 10. He only needed till 8:30 to kill a nifty little 10-point. And this was after passing up a three point at 8:00 because he was too small. We ran the first rabbit for a good hour and a half before the dogs lost him. They were in and on the other side of some briars, so thick, it was useless to try and penetrate them. I missed the big buck rabbit with a farewell salute into the briar patch when he passed (at high speed) behind me. No one else got close, much less a shot and no amount of directing the dogs could get them to pick up the trail again. Rain began to drizzle down. Lady and Robyn gave up and came out, but Kate was hardheaded and stubbornly tried to find the rabbit. Finally, Uncle NoPass and I lead Robyn and Lady to the truck while Brag remained to get Kate. When we arrived at the truck, Uncle NoPass decided we had to drive into the back to find Brag. No amount of arguing would dissuade him. Finally, I agreed and eased his 2-wheel drive truck with its street tires, down a narrow red clay trail. The tire treads packed with the mud, quickly became oversized slicks and began to spin on top despite my attempt to “ease” through to the other side. Uncle NoPass began to fuss that I wasn’t doing it right. I had to put it into the “creep gear” and just creep through it despite the fact that I had just succeeded in getting us stuck by following that exact same advice. But he knew. After all, he spent 3 years, nine months and 23 days without a pass in the South Pacific during World War II. He wanted to be a driver but they said he shot to good for that, so……… I looked the situation over and decided that if Uncle NoPass would give it a little gas when I lifted on the back end, it would get some traction and began to move again. I explained to Uncle NoPass what I wanted and he hurriedly dismissed me with the fact he had wanted to be a driver in World War Two but they had said he shot to good for that and….. I watched through the rear window as my 84-year-old uncle looked at the gear indicator and put it into “creep”, He, then, floored the accelerator, sending a spray of red clay off of the tires, coating me in droplets of the sticky substance. When the tires began to slip, he snatched it into reverse. Seeing the move, I countered by kneeling on the bumper and spreading the dog boxes apart so I could vault through them if a tree made a sudden appearance. The tires began to slip, so Uncle NoPass snatched it into “creep” again and re-sprayed me with droplets of red clay. This time the tires grabbed and slowly slipping and sliding he made his way down the lane to the nearest place to turn around. I jumped off the bumper and fell into a setting position in the freshly churned clay. I stayed out of his way as he backed and filled his way into a 180. While I waited for him to stop and pick me up, he slowly rolled past me into the place were he had just been stuck. As I stood in the lane watching as he rolled into the wallowed area, he shifted into “creep” and floored the accelerator again fishtailing out of the hole and splattering me once again with clay. I trailed along behind, catching up to the tailgate now and again before Uncle NoPass would goose the engine on down the road. I swear I thought I saw a grin in the rear view mirror. He pulled up next to the Pathfinder and parked. Rolling down the window, he called out to me “See, I told you, stick with me, I’d get her out of that hole. I wanted to be a driver when I was in the army but they said I shot too good for that…. By the way, what happened to you? Fall in the mud?
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