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The Population Doubles in North Dallas...

Getting my bro's fiver situated

It was bound to happen. The Old Girl and me had a run of over 2 years of being a solo act. My bro hates boondocking in any shape, form or fashion. He has to have the unwavering electric hook ups, the pull a valve and dump septic and the 20 minute hot showers. Because of his propensity toward creature comforts, we have not shared a location in well over two years. To tell the truth, I enjoyed the peace that settled around me once everybody was gone and the gate was locked. I didn’t have to worry if the shades were drawn or the TV was on too loud. I have been known to venture out totally nekkid to dump the tanks or pump fresh water. An obscene mental picture I know but if nobody sees it did it really happen?

North Dallas is a different animal. We are back in the heart of Texas Suburbia. People you meet on the highway don’t lift the finger in the Texas salute common in the rural areas. People tunnel-vision on their daily commute and exclude all else — and senior citizens in white Hondas will plumb run over your ass.

The RV parks available here in Far North Dallas are pretty slim so my bro had to elect to live onsite. I smirk when I watch him deal with the inconveniences associated with an onsite RV park. What do you do with your trash? What about internet? I don’t have good water pressure. You need to buck up dude. There is life outside of a full hook up RV park.

Maybe he will gain a better appreciation of what a tough bitch the Old Girl is. I mean we eat this stuff up like candy and never miss a beat. To tell you the truth, this is a dream RV site for us. I have unlimited water, septic and a 3G AT&T aircard connection with my Wilson amp engaged. It is the best site as far as amenities we have been on in at least 2 years if not more.

The only problem I am having is my back. I tried to blow that accident off as a non-event but that is not happening. Yesterday was a tough physical day. Some heavy lifting, some chain saw work and some cab time in the 750 dozer took its’ toll. My back is — how should I say it– tender? I was gimping around like some old codger and that is not a good place to be for me.

I am disappointed that the other ladies insurance company has not contacted me. It is State Farm and I called them on Wednesday with my info. I was expecting to at least have initial contact with their adjuster by now. I have to keep reminding myself at this point that compassion and concern for another human being has no bearing on the business at hand. It is all about the money. The F’n money. The old hide plowed me at 65mph and never let up and yet they are disputing who is at fault. I am fully prepared to take my time and let them sweat every detail. I think I will have my pound of flesh before this one is resolved.

End Note: This Too Will Pass by Rodney Crowell from the CD Fates Right Hand. Crowell is an under-appreciated poet and songsmith.

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