H
HoundDawg
Guest
With spring at our doorsteps and the bear hunt just around the corner, my thoughts turn to past spring bear hunts and riding around with Ed in his rusted out old Chevy. I recall with fondness the first time I mentioned the rust bucket, ?Nice huntin? truck Ed.? ?The Lord gave me this truck,? Ed replied.
It seems some years back ?ol Ed joined up with one of them Mail order preacher deals. Ed paid ?em his money and took their course to become a mail order preacher. Now most folks just do that as a tax shelter but Ed really believed his calling came from on High and set out to save the planet from its iniquities. But first he'd need himself a vehicle to spread the good word.
So he headed into Gallup with the Lord guiding him. He picked up a 2 day old newspaper in an old caf? and opened to the want ads. He closed his eyes and let his finger fall to the paper, the Lord guiding the finger as it fell. The first attempt landed squarely in his coffee, but the second time it landed on an ad ?Truck for Sale?.
He wrote the number down and in no time and tracked it down. There it sat, at the back corner of ?Shorty?s Used Cars?. As he stood there admiring the rusted out ?72 Chevy ? ton, a salesman in a yellowish white dress shirt approached him, ?Would you like to take her for a drive amigo?? Ed laid his hands on the hood of the truck and proclaimed, ?I hereby claim this pickup truck in the name of our Lord God.? The salesman adjusted his clip on tie a bit and said, ?Well son, I can't argue with that. Let's go sign some papers and I'll get you the keys.?
As we rode along the dusty roads with his Plott and 6 month old redtick up on his plywood rig box, I could see how proud he was of that truck the Lord had provided him. I guess I was thinking about the same thing as Kevin. He?d been slumped over in a drunken sleep on account of that little tango he had with a bottle of Old Crow after breakfast, but I guess had woke up in time to hear the story. Kevin blurted out, ?Good hell Ed, why couldn't the Lord have guided you to a new Powerstroke instead of this old rust bucket piece of junk??
I guess me and Kevin just don't understand how the Lord works in mysterious ways. But I'm hoping if my call ever comes down from on High, that the Big Man will set me up with a new Powerstroke and fancy aluminum dog box instead of a ?72 Chev.
But as spring approaches, once again I look forward to precious hunting time with my buddy Ed and his three sons, Ed Jr. (He named all his boys Ed Jr.) I suppose I'll do what I always do, bring some food, a sleeping bag and plenty of beer for Stan, (named after his pappy's favorite latino guitar player Stantana) and just pray that the Lord provides a dog that will catch a bear.
That's the story of Preacher Ed and the Powerstroke as best I recall. -Dawg
It seems some years back ?ol Ed joined up with one of them Mail order preacher deals. Ed paid ?em his money and took their course to become a mail order preacher. Now most folks just do that as a tax shelter but Ed really believed his calling came from on High and set out to save the planet from its iniquities. But first he'd need himself a vehicle to spread the good word.
So he headed into Gallup with the Lord guiding him. He picked up a 2 day old newspaper in an old caf? and opened to the want ads. He closed his eyes and let his finger fall to the paper, the Lord guiding the finger as it fell. The first attempt landed squarely in his coffee, but the second time it landed on an ad ?Truck for Sale?.
He wrote the number down and in no time and tracked it down. There it sat, at the back corner of ?Shorty?s Used Cars?. As he stood there admiring the rusted out ?72 Chevy ? ton, a salesman in a yellowish white dress shirt approached him, ?Would you like to take her for a drive amigo?? Ed laid his hands on the hood of the truck and proclaimed, ?I hereby claim this pickup truck in the name of our Lord God.? The salesman adjusted his clip on tie a bit and said, ?Well son, I can't argue with that. Let's go sign some papers and I'll get you the keys.?
As we rode along the dusty roads with his Plott and 6 month old redtick up on his plywood rig box, I could see how proud he was of that truck the Lord had provided him. I guess I was thinking about the same thing as Kevin. He?d been slumped over in a drunken sleep on account of that little tango he had with a bottle of Old Crow after breakfast, but I guess had woke up in time to hear the story. Kevin blurted out, ?Good hell Ed, why couldn't the Lord have guided you to a new Powerstroke instead of this old rust bucket piece of junk??
I guess me and Kevin just don't understand how the Lord works in mysterious ways. But I'm hoping if my call ever comes down from on High, that the Big Man will set me up with a new Powerstroke and fancy aluminum dog box instead of a ?72 Chev.
But as spring approaches, once again I look forward to precious hunting time with my buddy Ed and his three sons, Ed Jr. (He named all his boys Ed Jr.) I suppose I'll do what I always do, bring some food, a sleeping bag and plenty of beer for Stan, (named after his pappy's favorite latino guitar player Stantana) and just pray that the Lord provides a dog that will catch a bear.
That's the story of Preacher Ed and the Powerstroke as best I recall. -Dawg