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‘Ol Roy

 

     One of my biggest problems - and it is my problem - is that I will lend something to someone and forget about it until I need it... and then can't remember who I loaned it to.  

 

     On the other hand, there have been a couple of times when I did remember who I loaned something to - but when I asked, they didn't remember borrowing it.  Usually small things, but... 

 

     But the absolute worst case was when the Former Missus Hardpan came home one day and informed me that I was going to loan my tractor (a Massey-Ferguson 135) to her work buddy's husband the next weekend.  I'd never met the guy, but The Boss had spoken.

 

     Saturday, his wife and he arrived, had coffee, visited a spell, then off they went, with him driving the tractor to their place about a mile away.  Tractor was due back by Tuesday.

 

     Tuesday came, and no tractor.  It came back sometime the following weekend, as I recall.  Oh well.

 

     And so it began.  Ol' Roy would call and ask to borrow the tractor - I would balk and the Former Missus Hardpan would intervene (or she would lend it to him if I wasn't there) and away it would go, usually to be returned only after a series of nagging phone calls.

 

     Then one day he brought it back, and coasted it into my driveway - "Har!  Just ran out of gas and managed to coast into your driveway!!  Har!" he laughed and grinned.  Uh... it had a full tank when you took it, dude.  

 

     Another time it came back minus the grille door.  "Roy!  Where's the rest of the grille?" 

 

     "I dunno.... someone musta stole it," and off he went.  

 

     Then he borrowed it again without asking - he'd bought his own key. I went out one day to saddle up and move some dirt, but it was plumb gone. That time I hiked to his place and sure 'nuff, there it was.  I drove it home - and ran out of gas just as I pulled in.  Of course, I had just filled the tank when I’d last used it.

 

     That did it.  I lowered the boom - NO MORE!

 

     But I have a soft heart (and a soft head to match).  Ol' Roy called up one Tuesday evening and was almost in tears... he was DESPERATE!  He absolutely needed to borrow the tractor and a blade; he had a huge pit that needed filling - it was a safety hazard and he HAD to get it done before the weekend... PLEEZE??

 

     Yer kidding... right?

 

     I held out as long as I could, but after "the look" from the Former Missus Hardpan, I finally caved - with him SWEARING that he would have it back Friday evening, as I told him that I had a critical need for it for a project I was starting at dawn on Saturday.  He understood... and would ABSOLUTELY have it back to me and he showed up an hour later and drove it home.  

 

     Friday evening.  No Roy.  Saturday morning.  No Roy.  Later Saturday morning.  No Roy.  So I called his wife.  “Sheila – where’s Roy?”

 

     "Oh!  Roy went fishing before dawn!"

 

     I hiked over to Roy's, luggin’ a can of gas and shaking my head the entire way.  "His" key was in the ignition.  Well!  Looks like I now have an extra key!  Of course, the tank was bone dry.  I dumped in the gas, drove home, and said to the Former Missus Hardpan - "Do not even THINK of lending that tractor or anything ELSE to that man!!  EVER!!!!"  She got the message.

 

     About six months later, he called... and asked, "I don't s'pose you'd consider...?"  My answer was a curt "Nope!" followed by the *click* when I hung up. 

 

     But wait… there’s more!

 

     Jump ahead a few years.  Now with a change in “family status,” had moved away for a year, then back to Madera Ranchos.  One Saturday I was up early, tending to my morning ablutions, when I glanced out the bathroom window of my little rented cottage.

 

      “Holy Mother of Pearl!  Wotinell is THIS?” 

 

     Somehow, on that warm springtime morn, my front yard had been transformed into a veritable winter wonderland.  Or so was my first impression, at least.  But after a moment of study, I came to the shocking realization that I HAD BEEN TP’D!  Indeed, every tree and bush was heavily adorned with white streamers.  As I would later learn, an entire Costco pack.

 

     Somebody had had fun.  But I was not amused; indeed, I was a tad miffed.  And it took me over an hour to remove the stuff, relying on a telescoping boat hook and tree pruner to reach and snag the tissue bunting and ribbons which wafted gently, if not gaily, in the morning breeze.

 

     Now, hold that thought.

 

     Early afternoon and I was driving down the road when who do I spot but Ol’ Roy hisself, tinkering on something in his front yard.  Well, despite his material shortcomings, Roy was on balance an affable sort, so I pulled over to chat for a spell.

 

      “So how are you today?” he asked.

 

      “Actually, I’m kinda grumpy!” I replied, and in response to his querying raised eyebrows, I proceeded to describe my morning.

 

     When I was done, he groaned, “Oh, no,” turned toward the house, and yelled “Son!  Get out here!”

 

     A moment later his high-school aged football player youngster popped out with a huge grin.

“Yeah, Dad?”

 

      “Kid,” he queried, “didn’t you say that you and your buddies were gonna TP your coach’s house last night?”

 

      “Yup!  It shore was fun!  Ya shoulda seen it, Dad!  We used an entire Costco pack!  Coach’s whole corner yard looked like a winter wonderland!”

 

     Ol’ Roy leveled a not unkind glare at the lad, took a deep breath, and announced, “Kid… you  guys got the wrong house.”

 

     When I saw the look of shame tinted devastation on the young man’s face, I had to laugh.  My grumpiness was erased by the knowledge that I was not maliciously targeted.  Boys will be boys!

 

     But wait – there’s still more!

 

     Maybe a year or so later, I ran into Roy somewhere, and while we were talking, he asked if I’d like to go along on a drive with him in a week or two to collect a fishing boat he’d bought.  A really cool, almost twenty foot, jet-drive aluminum boat that had been the personal boat of Luhr Jensen, owner of the famous fishing lure company of the same name.

 

     “Mebbe!  Where?”

 

     “Oh, just up to Fish Camp.” 

 

     “Why shore, I’ll go along!”

 

     Well, on the Friday before the trip, I stopped by to ask what time the next day we’d be leaving, and if  he’d be picking me up or if I should drive the two miles over to his house.

 

     “Well, I wanted to ask you.  It seems that my truck broke – can we take yours?”

 

     That little annoying tingling started up on the back of my neck.

 

     “Uh… well, Roy, I don’t think that’d be a good idea.  Ya see, my shock absorbers are shot. I’d intended to change ‘em, but haven’t gotten ‘round to it.  And it wouldn’t be safe to haul such a heavy load with ‘em like they are.  Nope – not safe at all.  Sorry!”

 

      “Oh, no problem!  It’s Friday night, the parts stores are still open – we can go get your new shock absorbers and put ‘em in tonight!”

 

     Hm.  I really hadn’t planned on spending a bunch of money that night, but the prospect of assistance was appealing.  “Well… maybe….”

 

     And before I knew it, I was writing a check for over three hundred bucks for heavy duty shocks, including load-leveling air shocks for the rear.  Not surprisingly, there was no offer to help with the purchase.

 

     To expedite the story, we finished the install at about 0200 Saturday morning.

 

     “Okay – pick me up at five thirty!” Roy instructed.  “We need to get an early start!”

 

    Well, that figgers.  I raced home, grabbed a meager two and a half hours of sleep, and was ringing Ol’ Roy’s doorbell at 0530. No answer.

 

    I continued to ring and knock.  Still no answer.

 

    Grumbling, I trudged back to my truck and used my cell phone to call his house number.  After about twenty or so rings, his wife answered with a sleepy and annoyed “Hullo?”

 

     “Sheila – where’s Roy?”

 

     “Well, Rod, he’s asleep!  Do you not realize what time it is?”

 

     I apologized for the wake-up, and advised her of the reason for my call – “Roy told me to be here at 0530, I’m here out front, and he ain’t!”

 

    She assured me he’d be right out.

 

    About twenty minutes later, Ol’ Roy staggered out of his front door.  He crawled into my truck clutching a pillow, buckled up, snuggled in and instructed me to “wake me up when we get past Sacramento.”

 

    SACRAMENTO??

 

     “Waitaminnit.  Just whereinell are we GOING?  Fish Camp is EAST, not NORTH!”

 

     “No no no… we’re not going to Fish Camp – we’re going to Happy Camp.”

 

     “Happy Camp?  Where the Hell is Happy Camp?”

 

     “Why, Happy Camp is about sixty miles up the Klamath River.  When you get to Yreka, turn left.”  And with that, he started a snore serenade that lasted for over two hours.

 

     Finally, someplace north of Sacramento, I spotted a Denny’s and pulled off the freeway.  Roy woke up, looked about with a confused expression, and demanded “howcum we’re stopping?”

 

     “Well, Dude, you said to wake you up after we passed Sacramento.  We done passed ‘Sackamenna,’ we’re going to have breakfast and top off the fuel tank.  And by the way,” I added, “you ARE sponsoring all fuel and food on this excursion!”

     A short while later, with both the truck and our bellies filled and thermos topped off, we were underway – me driving and Roy snoring all the way to Yreka.

 

     We stopped again for fuel, and a by now refreshed Roy chattered away the rest of the trip to Happy Camp – which was beneficial, as it kept me awake.  Actually, Highway 96, which followed the Klamath River, was so windy and crooked with switchbacks and hairpin turns that we averaged a bit over forty miles per hour for the next seventy plus miles.

 

     But we made it.

 

     Now, I could write a whole story about the visit and the boat acquisition.  But at this point, suffice it to say that Ol’ Roy completed his transaction, we hitched on, and I handed him the keys as I announced that HE was driving.  I’d had enough.  I had driven almost five hundred miles on two and a half hours sleep – while HE slept – and it was HIS turn!

 

     Roy didn’t grumble too much, but he slid behind the wheel and we were off.  When we’d passed Yreka, he suggested that it might be a good idea if we stopped in Redding and got a room for the night, and continue our trip in the morning.

 

      “Nope.  I have stuff to do and gotta get home!” I proclaimed.  B’sides, I knew I’d get stuck paying for a room.

 

     I don’t know if it was my words or the accompanying sharp look, but Roy did not argue – and somewhere around 0200 Sunday morning, we pulled into his driveway.  Unlike Roy, I had not slept; rather, I made it a mission to ensure that he stayed awake. 

 

     Wearily, we unhitched the heavy boat trailer.  Roy lumbered off toward his front door without a word said, and I saddled up for the short trip home.

 

     As I approached the first stop sign, I placed my foot on the brake pedal – and was rewarded with a pronounced shimmying of the steering wheel.  Evidently, Ol’ Roy had ridden the brakes on the snake-y Klamath highway; that and the four thousand plus pound load had literally fried the brakes.

 

     Nearly six hundred dollars for a brake job.  When I let him know, Ol’ Roy just shrugged and said “Well, your brakes must’ve been old and obviously were ready to be replaced.  It's a good thing they lasted until we got back!”

 

     Atta boy, Roy!  And no, you still may not borrow my tractor!

 

 

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Edited by Hardpan Curmudgeon SASS #8967
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Dear Uncle Hardpan,

                                    Weren't you writing a book ?

 

 

                                                             sincerely

                                                                   wbj

 

 

 

:ph34r:

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I had a friend and a soft head just like you! Except it was my truck! Always came back late,empty, and in need of repair! The best I ever got from the wife that always insisted I loan him things was "well you know how he is" !! May he RIP

Some folks just have a lot of gall.:angry:

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I fell asleep :P at

"But wait… there’s more!

Snip-it_1706308817627.jpg.87b0d8082491cee3f2279e516ea1eb0c.jpg

 

 

 

 
I did read it all! ^_^

 

 

Edited by Father Kit Cool Gun Garth
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On 1/26/2024 at 2:43 PM, Father Kit Cool Gun Garth said:

I fell asleep :P at

"But wait… there’s more!

Snip-it_1706308817627.jpg.87b0d8082491cee3f2279e516ea1eb0c.jpg

 

 

 

 
I did read it all! ^_^

 

 

 

Ya missed the best part...!  :lol:

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2 minutes ago, Hardpan Curmudgeon SASS #8967 said:

 

Ya missed the best part...!  :lol:

I did read it all.

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I had a neighbour like that.

I loaned him some tools and helped him build a rec room in his basement.

Sherron and had a cruise booked that winter and we had a nice Caribbean vacation and I left my tools with him to use..

Later, in the spring, he was having a yard sale and what do I see but my tools up for sale. 

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2 hours ago, Cold Lake Kid, SASS # 51474 said:

I had a neighbour like that.

I loaned him some tools and helped him build a rec room in his basement.

Sherron and had a cruise booked that winter and we had a nice Caribbean vacation and I left my tools with him to use..

Later, in the spring, he was having a yard sale and what do I see but my tools up for sale. 

 

Was his name Roy...?   :o

 

Git a rope!    :angry:

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I used to have similar problems with my brother-in-law.

 

But once the ex Mrs Alpo became the ex Mrs Alpo, I didn't have to put up with him anymore.

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I have a different kind of neighbor. He will help out and do anything for anybody. BUT.. he is like a bull in a china shop. I think he has ADHD. He will start "helping" without knowing that there might be a procedure on how things need to be done. He has broken a hitch lock key because he would not take care and insert the key properly. (Fortunately I have spare keys.) He has broken the license plate bracket on my trailer while helping me put on the trailer cover. I have had to do many things over because he starts doing things before I can tell him how they have to be done. 

 

He really is a nice guy and is my best friend but he really needs supervision!:ph34r:

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5 hours ago, Alpo said:

I used to have similar problems with my brother-in-law.

 

But once the ex Mrs Alpo became the ex Mrs Alpo, I didn't have to put up with him anymore.

 

 

 

  ................ 'tis been'd said that if you loan your brother-in-law $20.00 and never see him again ...

 

 

                                                                           ........ it was probably worth it ...  -_-

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My brother-in-law - excuse me my ex brother in law - not only would have no trouble showing up while owing me money, but he would hit me up for a loan while owing me money.

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Yup, gotta friend like THAT too:(. He always pays it back, but can take years! Still owes me $40 bucks for taking his lawn mower for repair last spring. Hour and half round trip in my truck twice. The $40 is just the repair, like an ass, I didn't charge him for the gas! I'll likely never see that, I'm sure he's long forgotten.

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