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The Ongoing And Embellished Adventure Of Curmudgeon

2015 March 26
by Curmudgeon

Let me be honest, my time is mostly spent hanging here in Rantsville proving my curmudgeon status. Truth be told I’m an old (well not that old) guy doing my best to survive beyond the 69 years my father made it to. So writing about old age adventures sounds like a good pastime. Small problem: what’s the best way to write about adventures when you’re an old guy that spends time online, listens to vinyl records and indulges in some beers or wine in the evening? Answer: can you say embellishment ? In other words my descriptions may be less than entirely accurate. Thus the “embellished” part of the title.

Da Brudda is lending his “hands on” experience and architectural schooling with a project. We are constructing an archway between our mobile home living room and the addition we call “the family room.” When finished we’ll have a wall to wall open space of nearly 27 feet from living room to family room wall. Oh yeah, it’s gonna be a big space.

Friday morning he got off work early and showed up ready to get some stuff done. The next four hours or more were spent organizing wiring and getting switches and outlets connected and ready for final mounting after carpentry work got finished. Once we knew the work had been properly done it was time for “A BEER.” What! You thought maybe a cup o’ coffee? Seriously?

Da Brudda had happened across a mobile home court near his work that appeared to have privately owned lots. He was intrigued and wanted to show me so we jumped into his “dent-mobile” and away we went. Well, about two or maybe three miles from our destination a local squad car turned from a cross street and stayed behind us. We turned onto a much less traveled side street and flashing lights came on. It don’t take a rocket scientist to figure out you better pull over and have a chat and that’s what Da Brudda did right after he handed over a nearly full beer can and instructed me to hide it.  So it got tucked out of sight under my jacket. Y’know, this ain’t the kinda thing someone with a history of severe panic attacks should be expected to handle with finesse and grace.

The officer informed Da Brudda his license tabs expired the end of September last year and even though a hanging offence in North Dakota since we were a couple old guys behaving ourselves and Da Brudda had no wants or warrants a $20 citation would suffice. Oh yeah, he would need to get his tabs current first thing after the weekend.

We engaged in a bit of verbal banter about the predicted negative number temperatures for the next few days and the officer returned to the warmth of his squad car. Meanwhile we continued on our adventure to check out a mobile home court that may sell lots.

Da Brudda has long claimed he “may have to grow old but don’t have to grow up.” Ain’t that kinda hard to disagree with? OK, in Rantsville, domain of Curmudgeon, disagreeing isn’t an option. Please remember this is an “embellished” adventure.