The Rolla Boys™- Chapter 4

Disclaimer: The personalities in the ongoing story of "The Rolla Boys™", are in fact real people. I've chosen to slightly alter the spelling of these names in an effort to protect the true identities of the real life characters I grew up with in the 1960's and 70's. I personally know/knew the vast majority of people who will appear in my story, although occasionally I might write about someone I knew more through acquaintance than close friendship. I have no plans to intentionally incriminate anyone, however, incrimination is largely subjective. If you think you recognize yourself in this or any future writing and prefer your true identity not be revealed, I won't tell anyone who you are if you promise you won't tell anyone. Also, the characterization of people I recall from my childhood but knew primarily from a distance or from their reputation, are accurate and in my opinion, completely fair (based on my memory).

About mid afternoon on Friday October 10, 2003, I received a call from my old friend Steven Ray Moses, telling me he was on Highway 62 East and headed my way. I knew from the landmarks he'd conveyed he was within 25 minutes of the property and would be there soon.
As a note, growing up in Rolla, Missouri, the use of landmarks was critical as it related to giving directions. With the exception of my Dad and his friends Harold Chase and Don Bairdman, no one I knew had any idea of the names of streets in our town, not counting of course the one they lived on, Pine, 10th, and maybe Kings Highway. We gave directions like, "You know that corner where Gordon Startle threw up homecoming night....", or "...if you're on that street that runs into the Kroger parking lot, you go past Snoopy's, turn right at the stop sign on the other side of the laundromat, go over the old wooden bridge and it's just down the bottom of the hill. If you see the house with the dead cat in the front yard, you've gone too far.
This drove my Dad nuts. As a dedicated and professional man of the RPO (Rolla Post Office), he knew not only the names of every street in town, he could also tell you the precise mailing address of everyone in Rolla and most of Phelps County. My brothers and I didn't even know our zip code until we were in the 4th or 5th grade-something to this day Dad refuses to talk about and Mom just says, "Oh you did to!"
Back to the story.....
I strapped on a Colt .45 for affect (the gun not the malt liquor), hopped on my 4-wheeler and headed west for the front gate (at that time we had 2 gates, a red gate and a blue gate, but the blue gate got ran over by an ambulance a few years ago in an unrelated matter, and no longer exist).
As I stood outside the front gate admiring the dubious and eclectic collection of rusty old cars, dilapidated RV's and non-functioning large appliances in Stringly's front yard, I wondered; at what point does a man say to himself, "From now on, instead of throwing old worn out crap away like normal folks are inclined to do, I'm just gonna start putting the stuff in the yard. I know it might make more sense to take this half empty 55 gallon drum of axle grease and that old couch to the dump, but it'll be a lot easier if I just put 'em right here in the yard."
Sidebar: What kind of Babbit brings a wrench in from the garage, disconnects his washer from it's location of 12-15 years, and finds a neighbor drunk enough to talk into coming over and helping him move his washer from the house to the yard. I can vividly imagine that verbal exchange:

Babbit: "Hey Cletis, would you have time to stop by and help me move my washer?"
Cletis: "Sure Babbit. Let me finish this 24 oz can of Old Milwaukee Light and I'll be right over. Oh, where are we moving it to?"
Babbit: "I want to move it to the front yard, between the pile of tin cans and Grandma's old Norge."
Cletis: "Wouldn't it be easier to throw it off the back porch?"
Babbit: "Yah, but it'll look better if we throw it off the front porch."

Where was I? Oh yah, now I remember....
Soon after I arrived at the gate, I saw a slightly banged up older model blue Toyota Jinx Mobile barrel around the corner with the windows rolled down and Brewer and Shipley blaring, "One Toke Over The Line". I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt the first Rolla Boy had arrived, and of course, it was "The Beave".