Tales from Griz

Gather round lil chillin’s and let GrrrPa Griz tell you a tale.

Perhaps it is a dream, or perhaps it is just a tale of caution, I will let you decide. One never knows how statutes of limitations may or may not apply.

A long long time ago and state, far away, a man went out to the pub and had too much to drink. He was homeless and also without a car. Though in that state of inebriation the lack of a car was best. One of the other folks in the pub was passing within a couple of miles where the man was camping so he gave the man a lift.

A couple of miles to stagger in the middle of the night… When he came across a full size steamroller for a road project. The drums were about six feet tall a full lane wide. Drunken curiosity got the better of him. He mounted the steamroller. Well, let’s let it be known that they were not well protected form unauthorized use, it was after all a different time. Just a key in the ignition and all inhibitions (and common sense) were long gone. She fired right up.

The transmission was simple, a lever on the column; forward, neutral, and reverse. She went forward nice and easy. However, the drums were empty so they were LOUD. Brum-de-clang-bang! down the road he went, slow but easy.

Now being the middle of the night far off form street lights, it was easy to see when a car was coming. The glow would come up on the horizon and in the treetops. Well, that was the signal! Toss her in neutral and jump down then into the bushes… after all it could be the county police, or state park police making their rounds. Who wants to get caught for a DUI on a stollen steam roller?

Okay, the coast was clear, just a car. This happened several times.

One of the jaunts off of the steamroller the guy got a shock going over the fence. no really, it was an electric fence! That made it a little more challenging getting back to the idling steamroller. After some attempts at thought the path to clear the fence was worked out.

Back in the saddle, the steamroller continued brum-de-clang-banging down the road. That was, until it came to the top of a moderate hill that from experience driving this road he knew was a somewhat winding road as well. Not doing to try taking the roller down, was there even a brake? who knows/remembers?

That steamroller was left idling at the top of the hill. Time to wander down the hill, just about half way back to camp.

At some point our drink-dumb wandering did another stupid thing. He lay down on the double yellow lines to take a quick cat-nap. Caring not if one of the many cars known to fly up and down this hill were to come along.

Lucky for the tard muffin, a driver came along and checked on him and offered him a ride to where the road came to a T. To the point where, if you know where to look, there was a path to a little camp with two tents housing all of the possessions that he owned.

By the miracles of the tress and nature surrounding this foolish and drunken man, he made it back to camp safely. A question lingered in his mind. Why did the good Samaritan not mention the steam roller that he HAD to pass at the top of the hill? More than likely, it was the stink of the alcohol that connected the dots.

Sometimes, you have to be thankful (extremely thankful) that you survived the utterly stupid things that you may do in your youth.