Saturday, March 27, 2010


When I was a kid , there was this old man who drove a beater station wagon and lived near me in the hills and made his living selling eggs from his chickens.He had a bumper sticker on the back of that wagon that is the title of this post.He hated that the boys of my generation wore their hair long , pierced ears mortified him ... he was old school.
I used to hitch hike a lot (because I was too cool to ride the bus) , and sometimes he would drive past my outstretched thumb like I wasn't there and on the days he was inspired he would pick me up and try to convince me to change my heathen ways.
His wagon reeked of chickens and dirt , the odor of a poultry farm ...he was a nice enough old man , he just didn't cotton to us hippies.
The first few rides he lectured me on the virtues of being well groomed ... and I would shoot back my opinion on that subject and after a while we would just talk about "stuff".
I remember him because in retrospect I think maybe he picked me up because he wanted to understand and connect with a generation that was obviously alien to him and beyond his grasp. I don't think he ever understood , but he tried and we connected on some level ...
And after a time I didn't see that old station wagon on Bee Caves road anymore and it made me sad ... he was gone.
But the memory remains 35 years down the road and I think I understand that old man and his bumper sticker now , being well groomed is an asset. But it's more a state of mind than a standard of hygiene.

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