2006-08-12 - 10:47 p.m.
Tonight we decided to pay a visit to the annual Boone County Fair with the kids. We pulled up to an array of spinning lights and neon scented with the fragrant aroma of horse manure and funnel cakes. As we pulled up into the parking lot / field, we were strictly directed into a parking spot by some very serious ROTC Lieutenants and Colonels dressed in full fatigues and combat boots. Florescent orange flags commanded us to attention and into our intended direction. �Sir, yes, sir!� I suppose in the event a minivan declared war on the pre-arranged parking plan by choosing their own spot, in which case an all out siege would occur.
Once inside the fairgrounds, our first stop was to the motor sports track where the truck tug o� war was scheduled to begin at 7:00 pm. Serious entertainment for a 3-year-old boy! There were a few Good Ol� Boys kicking around some dirt, tinkering with their tire pressure and smokin� �em some Marlboro reds. Shortly after Gavin slathered my back and arms with rainwater, ketchup and rotavirus microbes off of the bleachers the announcer started up, �Welcome to the Boone County Fair truck tug o� war. A hearty welcome to y�all. We�ll be gittin� �er done in just a few minutes. We preesheate y�all stickin� around and comin� out here to support your families, neighbors and friends this cloudy evenin� despite the chance uh some pree-sip-o-tay-shun. So far so good, ain�t that right, Johnny Palmer! (man in mesh hat nods from sidelines) We�re gonna be holdin� a driver�s meetin� down here in front of Dale Jone�s 84 Fo-ward in all of about 5 minutes. We certainly preesheate ya�ll sittin� tight.� At this point it is about 7:20 and the kids are getting pissed off staring at the same old dirt and bleachers. William decided to run off to hunt down something for us to eat (while I gathered berries) (hunters and gatherers). We figured things would be underway by the time he got back. 7:25: �� well, I�d have to say it was back in �68 that Scooter Hoffman and I were workin� on that engine on Hal�s side yard�� No one is even listening to this guy anymore. He is just going on and on and on and on and on. As William made his way back to our spot on the bleachers bearing pulled pork sandwiches we met eyes and just started laughing. �� he was just a huntin� dog, he din mean no harm, merely had to relieve �eemself� har har har har har� hooooooey� Wait a minute� ladies and gentle man, the driver�s meetin� is come to a con clue jzun. We�re gonna start off here in a few minutes with the National Anthum sung by Earl�s lovely wife Shondell� okay� wait a minute� allrighty and here we go. (sound of tape recorder �play� button being pressed)�� Apparently Shondell�s schedule was booked full and she couldn�t make it to the truck tug o� war for a live performance of the Star Spangled Banner � so we all had to settle for a previously recorded version. �Oooh say can you see, by the dawn�s early light� (kids in background: �Mommy I want some more Koo-layed!!!!!!! Charlise hit me!!!!!�)� what so proudly we hailed at the twighlight�s last gleaming� (kids: �We want Koo-layed!!!!!!) (�Damn it, baybee, Momma�s tryin� to sing the star spangled banner fer the last time now, now hush�) Whose broad stripes and broad stars��
And then back to the incredibly captivating announcer, �First up we got Junior Cleaver from Franklin in his �82 Shiverlay and Robbie Donaldson of Burlington in his �74 Fo-ward. Junior is a three time champyin � knowsis truck like the back uvis hand. Does Robbie�s Ferd got what it takes?� Gavin was instantly hypnotized by the sound of unnecessarily loud truck engines. Out into the dirt field rumble a couple of beat up old pick up trucks occupied by proud owners, each bound and determined to show the other who is boss. Trucks in position, they circled their respective trucks, kicked at tires, etc. and then hooked up the chains. With great suspense, the referee assisted them in lining the center of the rope over the white line. Both trucks are pulling hard and loud when the light turns green and the ref throws out his arms. Suddenly tires are spinning, engines are screaming and mud is flying. Gavin is speechless. In a matter of 5 seconds the Chevrolet is pulled across the line by the Ford and Junior Cleaver is PISSED.
He roars off in a mad rage to the vinyl shop to purchase another �Piss on Ford� sticker for his back winder. �Next up we got Heather Jones and Bobbie Reynolds�� Heather Jones??? As in a FEMALE, Heather Jones? Sure enough. Oh, it couldn�t get any better than this. Out onto the field rolls up this girl in a screaming loud pickup truck inclusive with overhead exhaust pipes, cigarette dangling from the corner of her mouth as she maneuvers the steering wheel with one hand and a purpose. �Heather Jones in the �87 Fo-ward, Bobbie Reynolds in the �88 Fo-ward.� All lined up, engines roaring and ready to go� and GO! Heather is spinning the steering wheel around, still sucking on her Marlboro, giving her truck lots of gas, checking out her competition in the rearview. Swoosh, she takes Bobbie over the white line in 10 seconds flat. Bobbie is kicking red mad. His buddies are heckling him. It�s not a good night for Bobbie. Piss on Heather�s Ford� or something. The rest of the competitions were pretty much of the same description. A few more country girls were added to the mix, and there was even a father / daughter challenge! Daddy done taught Bessy e�erythang �ee knows, and of course took the win on that �un � but she learnin�!!! See � it�s people like this that wind up as our neighbors. When you�ve lived here long enough it comes as no surprise to peek through the venetian blinds of the back window and see two pickup trucks connected with chains facing in opposite directions, tires tearing up their lawn. It all makes perfect sense come time for the Boone County Fair in August. �Why they was jist practicin� is all!�
We wandered the fair grounds for a few more hours, but unfortunately missed the �Watermelon Seed spitting contest� and the �Bubble Gum Blowing Contest� Alas. There�s always next year.
the past - the future
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