left my wallet at home.
I’m late for my baby’s first doctor’s appointment.” She pointed to something or
someone unseen through the dark tinted windows in the back seat. “Just go ahead
and fill me up, too.”
The
was no “please, sir,” no “will you help me,” no “can I borrow twenty dollars?”
no “please give me your name and address so I can repay you.” Just “fill my car
up while you’re filling yours.”
Dumbfounded
by her audacity, I immediately complied, driven by an innate gonad-driven
instinct, and moved the nozzle from my truck to her car and continued pumping.
Once
twelve gallons of fuel had been pumped, with her gauge leaning towards full,
she said, “That’s enough. Please put the cap back on securely.”
I
did, and she just drove away, her only form of thanks was a wave in her rear
view mirror as she disappeared down the road.
It
was during this brief interlude, that once again I fell prey to the woman with
the willing woo-hoo.
Let
there be no mistake, she, who willingly shares it, controls he who graciously
receives it, whether he knows it or not. To be clear, this particular young
lady, offered me nothing, but she projected overwhelming confidence that I
would never say no, historically created by the enduring usefulness of her own
woo-hoo.
I guess I’m like the
alcoholic blaming whiskey.
Chapter
10
I spent the next eight hours on the road reflecting on the overwhelming power
that women with willing woo-hoos possess, while vaguely listening to Sirrus
Radio. Dale Hollow to Sioux City has taken me just under eighteen hours, and
that is pulling a trailer. I’m pleased to be making such good time with such a
heavy load.
After
checking in at a hotel, not too far off the interstate and unloading what
little luggage I needed, I did a little skipping from floor to floor to see
what the hotel offered. While waiting for the elevator to descend, the
oddest-dressed group of guys walked up and joined me. Their long beards and
biker attire sparked my interest. Not one for tact, especially at 4 a.m., I
said, “Ya’ll look like you just stepped off the stage at Woodstock … about
forty years late.”
They
all laughed and then goaded me about trying to act all cool and mean at the
same time, while speaking with a mixed southern drawl.
“You
win,” I said, “I’m sure I’m not what you’re used to seeing in your neck of the
woods, either. I’m D.”
“I’m
Billy,” said the first of the group, pointing to the other two, “This is Frank,
and back there is Dusty. It’s nice to meet you, D. Are you going to Sturgis?”
“Yes,
sir, I am … and on to Wyoming, Montana and Canada.”
“No
kidding,” he continued. “We’re gonna play in Sturgis on Tuesday at the
Campground. I’m not sure what time we hit the stage, but you’re welcome to look
us up if you like,” said Frank.
“I
might just do that! I’m sure my girlfriend would love to hear you play, as
well.”
“Hey,
if she’s pretty with big hooters, we’ll leave you two back stage passes at
‘will call.’”
“Wow.
Awesome, guys. Thanks! Double Ds they are not, but I can put both both those
pink things in my mouth at one time,” I said rather proudly.
“That’s
great! Reckon I could try?”
“If
you’re around tomorrow afternoon when Candi gets in, you can buy her a drink
and at least see if she’ll show them to you. That’s the least I can do for the
tickets. Besides, ya’ll look like you could stand to see a nice pair, since
you’re too old to do anything more than watch.”
“That’s
cold, D. Damn cold,” Frank mused with a smile.
“I
guess we’ll catch ya’ll then.”
“Your
ass can stay in the room,” I heard them say as they went about their way and I
searched to find my bed to get some much-deserved shut-eye.
I
slept sound until noon with a “do not disturb” sign on the door. Evidently,
after 12 p.m. it doesn’t matter to housekeeping. They disturb you anyway. With
a shower,
I’m late for my baby’s first doctor’s appointment.” She pointed to something or
someone unseen through the dark tinted windows in the back seat. “Just go ahead
and fill me up, too.”
The
was no “please, sir,” no “will you help me,” no “can I borrow twenty dollars?”
no “please give me your name and address so I can repay you.” Just “fill my car
up while you’re filling yours.”
Dumbfounded
by her audacity, I immediately complied, driven by an innate gonad-driven
instinct, and moved the nozzle from my truck to her car and continued pumping.
Once
twelve gallons of fuel had been pumped, with her gauge leaning towards full,
she said, “That’s enough. Please put the cap back on securely.”
I
did, and she just drove away, her only form of thanks was a wave in her rear
view mirror as she disappeared down the road.
It
was during this brief interlude, that once again I fell prey to the woman with
the willing woo-hoo.
Let
there be no mistake, she, who willingly shares it, controls he who graciously
receives it, whether he knows it or not. To be clear, this particular young
lady, offered me nothing, but she projected overwhelming confidence that I
would never say no, historically created by the enduring usefulness of her own
woo-hoo.
I guess I’m like the
alcoholic blaming whiskey.
Chapter
10
I spent the next eight hours on the road reflecting on the overwhelming power
that women with willing woo-hoos possess, while vaguely listening to Sirrus
Radio. Dale Hollow to Sioux City has taken me just under eighteen hours, and
that is pulling a trailer. I’m pleased to be making such good time with such a
heavy load.
After
checking in at a hotel, not too far off the interstate and unloading what
little luggage I needed, I did a little skipping from floor to floor to see
what the hotel offered. While waiting for the elevator to descend, the
oddest-dressed group of guys walked up and joined me. Their long beards and
biker attire sparked my interest. Not one for tact, especially at 4 a.m., I
said, “Ya’ll look like you just stepped off the stage at Woodstock … about
forty years late.”
They
all laughed and then goaded me about trying to act all cool and mean at the
same time, while speaking with a mixed southern drawl.
“You
win,” I said, “I’m sure I’m not what you’re used to seeing in your neck of the
woods, either. I’m D.”
“I’m
Billy,” said the first of the group, pointing to the other two, “This is Frank,
and back there is Dusty. It’s nice to meet you, D. Are you going to Sturgis?”
“Yes,
sir, I am … and on to Wyoming, Montana and Canada.”
“No
kidding,” he continued. “We’re gonna play in Sturgis on Tuesday at the
Campground. I’m not sure what time we hit the stage, but you’re welcome to look
us up if you like,” said Frank.
“I
might just do that! I’m sure my girlfriend would love to hear you play, as
well.”
“Hey,
if she’s pretty with big hooters, we’ll leave you two back stage passes at
‘will call.’”
“Wow.
Awesome, guys. Thanks! Double Ds they are not, but I can put both both those
pink things in my mouth at one time,” I said rather proudly.
“That’s
great! Reckon I could try?”
“If
you’re around tomorrow afternoon when Candi gets in, you can buy her a drink
and at least see if she’ll show them to you. That’s the least I can do for the
tickets. Besides, ya’ll look like you could stand to see a nice pair, since
you’re too old to do anything more than watch.”
“That’s
cold, D. Damn cold,” Frank mused with a smile.
“I
guess we’ll catch ya’ll then.”
“Your
ass can stay in the room,” I heard them say as they went about their way and I
searched to find my bed to get some much-deserved shut-eye.
I
slept sound until noon with a “do not disturb” sign on the door. Evidently,
after 12 p.m. it doesn’t matter to housekeeping. They disturb you anyway. With
a shower,
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