Today is Saturday, so I crank up my old pickup truck and head down the old dirt road to see my good friend Junior. I love this old truck and every rattle that goes with it. One thing about south Georgia is the washboard roads. They are very difficult to navigate at times. The 8-track player blares out “your cheatin’ heart” as my hound dogs (pronounced ‘dawgs’) bark and bay at every turn we make — the day is starting out great. This is going to be a wonderful day.
After a while, I see a sign that reads “Junior’s Junkyard — the best junk in south Georgia.” My truck skids to a halt under the old oak tree. I get out and walk over to Junior and extend greetings by saying, “Howdy, Junior, how’s your mamas and them?” “Tolerable.” In Junior I see a man weighing around 265 pounds, wearing overalls, checkered shirt, ball cap and broughams. “Junior, you should run off and join the circus.” Junior responds, “What you mean?” I look at him, with a smile, and state, “Well, son, you are the only good ole boy I know that can chew ‘backer, dip snuff, smoke a cigarette, a ten cent cigar, chew on a toothpick, drink an R.C. and eat a moon pie at the same time.”
Junior looks at me and says, “My wife says my mouth looks like a cesspool. She says I have to quit all this or she won’t kiss me anymore.” I must admit Junior sure looked sad.
As I sat on an old R.C. crate, Junior asks, “Son, when you Reds take power, will ya’all take my junkyard away from me?” I replied, “What do you mean ‘you Reds’? Don’t tell me your wife has you reading Steinbeck?” Junior paused for a second then replied, “Yeah, I just finished two of his books, “In Dubious Battle” and “The Grapes of Wrath.” I looked at him with a smile and said, “Son, the Communists have no interest in taking your junk away from you. Besides, we have enough junk of our own.”
About this time Junior’s lovely, petite wife June walked up and sat down. She is a teacher at the county primary school and has so many educational degrees that we call her Doctor Fahrenheit. After listening to our discussion progress, June stated, “I almost wish the Communists would take his junkyard away from him. He seems to love that damn junk more than he does me.”
After visiting with Junior and his wife, I came to the conclusion that while the Communists would not nationalize Junior’s junkyard, his wife just might!
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