Breaker One-Nine, this here's the Rubber Duck...

Was the dark of the moon, on the sixth of June

In a Kenworth, pullin' logs

Cabover Pete with a reefer on

And a Jimmy haulin' hogs

We 'as headin' fer bear on I-One-Oh

'Bout a mile outta Shaky-Town

I sez Pig-Pen, this here's the Rubber Duck

An' I'm about to put the hammer on down

Cause we gotta little ol' convoy, rockin' through the night

Yeah we gotta little ol' convoy, ain't she a beautiful sight?

Come on an' join our convoy, ain't nothin' gonna git in our way

We're gonna roll this truckin' convoy, cross the USA

Convoy... Convoy...

lyrics courtesy of Bill Fries and Chip Davis

I got a postcard in the mail today from my friend Vernon. See, he's a trucker now, hauling those wonderful loads in those oversized trucks day in and day out. Postcard was from ATL (that's Atlanta, Georgia...). Quick and to the point, I just enjoyed the simplicity of his greeting.

So Vernon, where ever you are right now, drive carefully. And please, if you see those little kids pumping their arms up and down, give that air horn a quick tug. It always made my day when I was growing up.

Now, do you go into truck stop dives and challenge others to arm wrestling ala Stallone?

Tiger Woods...

8 and 7.

Six of the last seven; sixteen of the last thirty.

I remember my dad telling me that I should watch Jordan play his last few games before hanging it all up (at least the first time, before being subjected to Rodman's antics). I'm glad I did. Maybe golfers should take note and take some time to watch some really good golf.

Okay, to those of you that don't speak golf, here a great write-up.

Lent: Day 21

Ahh, going without that wonderful carne during the week has become an almost thoughtless process. Amidst all the hungry meat devouring folk, I stand out with my unslaked appetite for those wonderful nuggest of flesh. Eww, that was almost disgusting.

I had a bit of meat this weekend. Sunday, that glorious day of days, was a time for celebration. As Renee and I talked about what to make for dinner, we happened upon the meat aisle in H.E.B. and I could almost hear that angleic music playing: seasoned riblets. Yummy!

Grilled and accompanied with au gratin spuds, we had good eats homecooked and enjoyed in the company of loved ones. For the left overs, I devoured the spuds last night. The riblets? Those righteous little succulent strips were relegated to the freezer, to be enjoyed a week later.

The cruise control has been set; half way there and no real problems. It's difficult most when I'm at a tournament and the provided lunch is hamburgers or some other meat products. I can make due, but eating out some sort of fish or veggie plate gets pricey, even for my cheap arse.

Spring Break cannot get here soon enough.

Mean Streets of Ellinger

Ours was a situation not much different from, say, a long-distanced relationship by that hopeful girl still in high school and the anxious college freshman away for that first time. Tenative, but optimistic. Of course, we weren't exactly sweating about cheating on one another; we were too busy planning on conquering the invading horde of terrorists and ninjas.

Now that's something I remember with an almost guilty smirk. Ninjas were some really cool shit. Yeah, I said that. That's how cool they were. In fact, I remember Kris having a pair of ninja boots (do you still, bro?) and matching socks. Had to, as the boots had a split toe on them. Later, he even procured an actual katana. Maybe it was a small one, but it was a blade nonetheless. Snake Eyes and Storm Shadow from G.I.Joes were the coolest of characters from the series. American Ninja and Revenge of the Ninja were favorites movies to watch all the time. Always, our kung fu was stronger.

While Kris did on occasion visit Columbus and Bellville, it just seemed that visiting him was easier. His house wasn't large, but he had a decent yard. Best of all? The streets of Ellinger lacked the purveyors of justice already found in Columbus: armed and eager to right the wrongs of the world heroes. We, of course, never thought of ourselves as heroes. We were simply charged with going out like good soldiers and taking out the trash that existed in our Rambo-fueled minds.

Most of the time, we could just walk out the door at dark-thirty and meander about, avoiding the glare of headlights and neighbors alike, the occasional dog or two, and that quick stop to try (but never quite succeed) at pilfering the soda machine. Good thing was we never broke it; just never did get that free Pepsi. We would stroll until the moon was directly above, or until about 10:30, which ever came first. I can't remember shooting out streetlights (or not) with the BB gun we sometimes carried with us.

Ah, the streets were never more safe. Until we felt that itching to play a song.

Next time: A Concert for All

Lent: Day 12

What a week. No cheating, no beef or chicken or pork. Land animals rejoice (fowl too!), for I have been a good and devout sacrificer for the week. No crazy dreams, but damn if it wasn't difficult. Our Texas culture doesn't appreciate the typical vegetarian. In two days, I was offered a free lunch, but both were typical Lone Star fare: carne guisada (Mexican stewed meat and gravy; quite tasty!) and barbecue hoagies. I had to settle for rice and beans on Monday, and a barbecue hoage without meat (bread, onions, tomato sauce, pickles, and a smile; thanks to Mr. Harmon). The rest of the week strolled through without incident, but Friday and Saturday are probably the toughest, looking to eat out with family or friends but maintain the current dietary standard. Today we celebrated a nephew's birthday early, so steaks galore. I ate my fill and packed a Lupe plate for later. Amidst the struggles during the week, it's hard to stay humble and not be proud of what I'm doing. Everyone who knows says they couldn't do it, and I want to finish this right. My body is changing ever so slowly, but I imagine my heart is appreciative of the meat fasting right now.

For all this, life for me and mine is truly good. Perhaps an elaboration will follow later, but with good living comes goodness. Thanks to the Big Guy; he is my Superman. Cheers...

Picture courtesy of those wonderful artists at Worth1000.com. Man, those folks are really creative and talented.