Still Kickin'

Yo! Did Horvath eat my cam remote or what? Finds that shit. And, I left my charger under the bridge to boot!

Though the stay dragged and lulled in the mid section, it ended no less than epic.

The car, of course, made its quota about six miles outside Marshall, TX, when the main pulley came off and I coasted to a halt. I had a choice of where to walk, and I chose wisely. The guy behind the door pretty much answered with: "You want a beer?". Not being a man of refusal, I took that shit and had at it while placing the ever-important call to the Troll (2-3 hours away).

Now, I was weary upon approach when I heard some real strange ambient noise about the porch area. That noise, after the most generous offer, built to some nice dance mix. This led him to the question: "You like techno?". Do I? I say: "I am somewhat of a mixing man myself...". The luck. Of all the places in all the times, what are the odds of meeting this guy, Keith. We hit it off on everything as he dragged out the 12 packs. Three hours, several pints of relief in his bushes, and a mound of great conversation later, The Troll arrives.

Cool Keith and I exchange CD's and whatnot, while we assess the Storm situation. With the tow strap secure(?), and The Troll at the wheel, we bid Cool Keith and his beer farewell and embark on the hairiest tow-adventure I've ever experienced.

Riding with the troll is one thing, being towed 4 feet behind him for three hours at 70+ mph is another. That pretty much hits that nail, and touches on the "if you weren't there" situation. Anyway, I was nodding, he was speeding; so my front end and his back bumper remain a bit more biffed. It was wild.

Safely tucked under the bridge, I get the car rigged, and partake in two joyous days of stoke and change-diggin' for beer dough. Yeah.

And that's just the last two days.