To See The Preacherman
After passing by my turn and traveling ten miles up and over an old iron bridge that I really didn't want to cross over again, I called the Padre. 
"You mean I have to drive over that sonovabitch again?" I exclaimed incredulously. My hidden phobia was out. Yes, I've walked across greasy wet aircraft perched tail over water 100 feet above heavy seas, but driving over a bridge with a superstructure creeps me out. I can ride a motorcycle over them just fine. I can drive a convertible across them with aplomb. Put me in an enclosed vehicle and my knuckles go white, my stomach churns and my heart says giddyap. I inched back across the thing with total annihilation racing through my mind.
When I finally arrived at Preacherman's bungalow, Lawdog and Tole were waiting for me. As we chatted, it was as though I had known the Texas lawman for years. Finally, Ambulance Driver arrived, and the conversation really took off. From disoriented patients and nurses to bizarre townsfolk, the discussion was animated and at times profane. It was a good time for all, and a welcome relief for me.
We ate at one of the Padre's favorite Cajun restaurants, and by necessity, the conversation became more sedate. Back at the bungalow, the Padre broke out his Kel Tec SU-16C to show around. It was a neat little carbine, light and quick. Before long, quite a few firearms were being uncovered, examined and discussed.
Ambulance Driver expressed a desire for a 1911, but did not know where to turn. Here's your link AD.
After a while, Preacherman broke out spirits from South Africa, and the talk turned to world travels, Jeff Cooper on safari, scout rifles, and the various ways of holding and controling a firearm in different scenerios.
The sun came up this morning to find five gunnies sacked out around the house in sleeping bags. The previous night we had joked that if there were a home invasion, once the cordite cleared, AD could patch the misguided soul up and keep the airway moving air while I dug out the lead for Tole to reload. Lawdog could arrest and interrogate him and Preacherman could take his confession or administer last rites as needed. One stop home invasion intervention.
Back home now, I have to prepare for a hoity toity function with the wife. I'm not expecting nearly as much fun. Which tie goes with a Colt New Agent?
"You mean I have to drive over that sonovabitch again?" I exclaimed incredulously. My hidden phobia was out. Yes, I've walked across greasy wet aircraft perched tail over water 100 feet above heavy seas, but driving over a bridge with a superstructure creeps me out. I can ride a motorcycle over them just fine. I can drive a convertible across them with aplomb. Put me in an enclosed vehicle and my knuckles go white, my stomach churns and my heart says giddyap. I inched back across the thing with total annihilation racing through my mind. When I finally arrived at Preacherman's bungalow, Lawdog and Tole were waiting for me. As we chatted, it was as though I had known the Texas lawman for years. Finally, Ambulance Driver arrived, and the conversation really took off. From disoriented patients and nurses to bizarre townsfolk, the discussion was animated and at times profane. It was a good time for all, and a welcome relief for me.
We ate at one of the Padre's favorite Cajun restaurants, and by necessity, the conversation became more sedate. Back at the bungalow, the Padre broke out his Kel Tec SU-16C to show around. It was a neat little carbine, light and quick. Before long, quite a few firearms were being uncovered, examined and discussed.
Ambulance Driver expressed a desire for a 1911, but did not know where to turn. Here's your link AD. After a while, Preacherman broke out spirits from South Africa, and the talk turned to world travels, Jeff Cooper on safari, scout rifles, and the various ways of holding and controling a firearm in different scenerios.
The sun came up this morning to find five gunnies sacked out around the house in sleeping bags. The previous night we had joked that if there were a home invasion, once the cordite cleared, AD could patch the misguided soul up and keep the airway moving air while I dug out the lead for Tole to reload. Lawdog could arrest and interrogate him and Preacherman could take his confession or administer last rites as needed. One stop home invasion intervention.
Back home now, I have to prepare for a hoity toity function with the wife. I'm not expecting nearly as much fun. Which tie goes with a Colt New Agent?
Labels: Friends
posted by Xavier at 5:02 PM
8 Comments:
Sounds like a good time! OBTW, any Jerry Garcia works well with a Colt :-)
"Which tie goes with a Colt New Agent?"
Maybe this one?
http://www.huntersjewels.com/pop_bolo_tie.htm
If there ever was a good accessorizing question. That is it. Bow ties go with Wathers. Those skinny 80's ties go with Glocks. I'd have to go with a string tie for just about any 1911 platform. Just make sure you color coordinate with the grips.
Bowtie and Fedora
After spending a year in the Pentagon (backin the mid-70s) and a couple more tours in Corps Headquarters (or nearly that high), one of the reasons I'm retired in Alaska is because I dispise ties of any kind (and wear them only as a last resort). A nice pistol on the other hand goes equally well with jeans & Carhardts or with any level of dress through semi-formal to full dress formal. Thanks for the story; sounds like a good time was had by all...
Xav: Now, that right there, would make a hit "reality" TV show if you could get er done.
Lots a laughs. Lots a learnin. Lots a honest lookin at our condition.
I share your, er, aversion to bridges like that, too...
Wife and I took a side trip to see Niagara Falls a few weeks back. Geez, going over the bridge to Grand Island puckered me so bad, about had to use a crowbar to remove myself from the car.
I still see some Calvados left in the bottle. Slackers.
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