Hobo Jungle
Drinks for everyone are on me in honor of Dufus. Those are some sad laments, Duf, but is is a fine thing to hear from you.
Hev, I'll have to tell you about the time Dufus saved me from drowning in the aftermath of a multiple wine vat car derailment and spill. There's a few folks here wuz witness to it, but it'll take about one beer less or suitcase more of them to get in a state where I can get it right. Needless to say, if you ever find yourself in that situation, Dufus is the kind of man you want to have around. A good, solid hobo that rides rails from Idaho down through Utah and the into the Southwest. Herd he got himself in a situation with a woman.
San
Hev, I'll have to tell you about the time Dufus saved me from drowning in the aftermath of a multiple wine vat car derailment and spill. There's a few folks here wuz witness to it, but it'll take about one beer less or suitcase more of them to get in a state where I can get it right. Needless to say, if you ever find yourself in that situation, Dufus is the kind of man you want to have around. A good, solid hobo that rides rails from Idaho down through Utah and the into the Southwest. Herd he got himself in a situation with a woman.
San
Dufus, just noticed you in the corner of the fire light. Great to see your worn face. Brings back the old old days. Some sad song you got there. Need a dram to cheer you up?
Kurt, mine is the postless version with the lower roof line. Why is your handle the Water man?
Kurt, mine is the postless version with the lower roof line. Why is your handle the Water man?
Last edited by Tramp on Wed Mar 07, 2007 4:04 pm, edited 1 time in total.
That a life will be spent gaining inches,
When this distance is read in miles.
When this distance is read in miles.
webenda wrote:Yeah Hev. Is that a brass caboose?
No Wayne .....not brass. It's a K-line. The detailing on this is awesome. That's why I bought it. It also has a smoke unit too. I got it at York a few years back.
If ya want one Wayne here is the link to The Western Depot website. They have them on sale for 45.00 till March 31 2007.
http://www.westerndepot.com/catalog/product_info.php?products_id=2456
hev
If you want to find history, follow the train man..................
Tramp wrote:Kurt, mine is the postless version with the lower roof line. Why is your handle the Water man?
Tramp, I work for a municipal water authority near Pittsburgh Pa. When I was first hired I read meters. Every house That I needed to get in to read the meter I yelled water man. Before the water authority I was a Acura/Honda mechanic and a gear head. As for the Impalas. My friend Mike is on his 5th 65/66 SS. The one he has now is a 66 396 4speed. Light blue with a blue int. His first was a silver 66 SS 283 2 speed auto. Coolest car at the High School.
Kurt
Kurt, the waterman I knew was a tad different.
Some years ago when hitchhiking west, I was picked up in a cloud of dust by a broken-looking jacked-up Buick pointed north out of Detroit headed up through Pontiac to Flint, Michigan. Now the driver of this rig had a CB and his handle was "the Waterman" and he talked something like this: "Yall dis da Waderman comin' atcha, yeassur, dis da Waderman, movin' goood, feelin' goood; I godcha wader, I godcha juice, I god wadcha need ta git loose." And the response by the truckers in that area was something like this: "Come agin, good buddy." They didn't understand a word.
Well—I suggested we get some beer. And once it was understood that I'd be paying, the Waterman immediately nosed the Watermobile to a package store. I bought a couple racks of Stroh's—the fire-brewed beer. Back on route, I snapped one open and proceeded to drink it. The Waterman, however, just went nuts: "Aww, man, whadchu doin' man. Keep dat ting low, man. Keep dat beer low!" The low sounding like a long moan. Then the Waterman gave me a lesson in Drinking Beer on a Highway. First his head swiveled madly on his neck, his eyes searching insanely—backwards, front, to the sides, above for helicopters—then he slumped way down on the bench seat, impossible now for him to see the road, I ready to grab the wheel, then he yells, "Alright man, gimme da beer. Keep it low!" I slipped him the Stroh's bumping the thing along the floor mats. Getting even lower he tipped the beer back and took a swallow. He came up for air then and hopefully to see if the Buick was still on the road and he handed me back the bottle, real low. The fucker was empty! Some sip.
Thus we piloted up the road, I trying to imitate his drinking technique, he muttering crazily every so often on the CB. After our third beer, the Waterman suddenly fought the Buick to a lurching stop in the breakdown lane. He hops out and wrenches up the hood—damn, the Watermobile has died, I figure. I get out my side to assist, being a bit of a mechanic especially on 60s GM. "Right man, right, preten' you workin' on da wires, preten' you workin' on da motor like." But the Buick isn't wounded, the Waterman is just having a pee.
I still use this pee-stop technique today, though I don't keep my
beers quite as low as he did.
Some years ago when hitchhiking west, I was picked up in a cloud of dust by a broken-looking jacked-up Buick pointed north out of Detroit headed up through Pontiac to Flint, Michigan. Now the driver of this rig had a CB and his handle was "the Waterman" and he talked something like this: "Yall dis da Waderman comin' atcha, yeassur, dis da Waderman, movin' goood, feelin' goood; I godcha wader, I godcha juice, I god wadcha need ta git loose." And the response by the truckers in that area was something like this: "Come agin, good buddy." They didn't understand a word.
Well—I suggested we get some beer. And once it was understood that I'd be paying, the Waterman immediately nosed the Watermobile to a package store. I bought a couple racks of Stroh's—the fire-brewed beer. Back on route, I snapped one open and proceeded to drink it. The Waterman, however, just went nuts: "Aww, man, whadchu doin' man. Keep dat ting low, man. Keep dat beer low!" The low sounding like a long moan. Then the Waterman gave me a lesson in Drinking Beer on a Highway. First his head swiveled madly on his neck, his eyes searching insanely—backwards, front, to the sides, above for helicopters—then he slumped way down on the bench seat, impossible now for him to see the road, I ready to grab the wheel, then he yells, "Alright man, gimme da beer. Keep it low!" I slipped him the Stroh's bumping the thing along the floor mats. Getting even lower he tipped the beer back and took a swallow. He came up for air then and hopefully to see if the Buick was still on the road and he handed me back the bottle, real low. The fucker was empty! Some sip.
Thus we piloted up the road, I trying to imitate his drinking technique, he muttering crazily every so often on the CB. After our third beer, the Waterman suddenly fought the Buick to a lurching stop in the breakdown lane. He hops out and wrenches up the hood—damn, the Watermobile has died, I figure. I get out my side to assist, being a bit of a mechanic especially on 60s GM. "Right man, right, preten' you workin' on da wires, preten' you workin' on da motor like." But the Buick isn't wounded, the Waterman is just having a pee.
I still use this pee-stop technique today, though I don't keep my
beers quite as low as he did.
Last edited by Tramp on Wed Mar 07, 2007 7:26 pm, edited 2 times in total.
That a life will be spent gaining inches,
When this distance is read in miles.
When this distance is read in miles.
It's good to know Tramp, Petey and San are still walking aroundwith their forked end down. Anyone hear from Willie or Stiff?
Last I heard from Stiff he was recouperating from a heart attack in Denver. That was Christmas '05.
I haven't heard a peep out of Willie for a long time.
One of these days I'm going to take Petey up on that fine supper he offered.
So long,
Dufus
Last I heard from Stiff he was recouperating from a heart attack in Denver. That was Christmas '05.
I haven't heard a peep out of Willie for a long time.
One of these days I'm going to take Petey up on that fine supper he offered.
So long,
Dufus
Dufus
Dufus,
Sorry to hear about Bindle Stiff. I pray he has recovered.
Willie has taken up a Miami Vice, Crockett and Tubbs like existence in Florida. Probably wants dusky, hot, Latin babes. Now he probably lives on a boat with an alligator and drives an impounded Italian sportscar. In reality, Petey reported in when they closed up the homestead in Pa. It was genuinely an emotional transition. He has a daughter studying in England and I think he is pursuing something in line with his artistic talent.
Tramp,
That's my favorite story. For some reason it has stuck with me.
San
Sorry to hear about Bindle Stiff. I pray he has recovered.
Willie has taken up a Miami Vice, Crockett and Tubbs like existence in Florida. Probably wants dusky, hot, Latin babes. Now he probably lives on a boat with an alligator and drives an impounded Italian sportscar. In reality, Petey reported in when they closed up the homestead in Pa. It was genuinely an emotional transition. He has a daughter studying in England and I think he is pursuing something in line with his artistic talent.
Tramp,
That's my favorite story. For some reason it has stuck with me.
San
I think this place should be called Disney Hell. I was'nt here 20 seconds and some clown in a friggin' yellow suit told me I could'nt smoke in the middle of a 40 acre parking lot. If my wife and kid were'nt with me I would have punched him in the mouth. 
The boy enjoyed the hell out of it, so thats ok by me. I'm now back at the hotel from Satan and everyone of my Sam Adams in the fridge is frozen solid and the cheesey bar downstairs don't open fer another 20 minutes.
The boy enjoyed the hell out of it, so thats ok by me. I'm now back at the hotel from Satan and everyone of my Sam Adams in the fridge is frozen solid and the cheesey bar downstairs don't open fer another 20 minutes.
Running that red block Charlie.
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