In Our Area Tonight...

[Zap]

This is what we were dealing with tonight...

Violent Storm And Suspected Tornadoes Leave One Dead, Widespread Damage In Ont. - CityNews (http://www.citytv.com/toronto/citynews/news/local/article/51803--violent-storm-and-suspected-tornadoes-leave-one-dead-widespread-damage-in-ont)

[Atom]

Wow! Tornadoes are pretty rare up that way though aren't they? That's freaky. I used to live near lake O if you want to consider 150mi near.

One of the first things I noticed after moving down south here is frequent tornado warnings and watches and lot's of deaths from them, something that I was not at all used to back home. Of course I am on the south east tail of tornado alley, that accounts for a lot I suppose, but even just the plain old thunderstorms down here are much more severe I've noticed.

[Muddy]

Scary stuff! Like Atom says, you don't get that kind of weather too often do you?

Atom that was one of the first things we had to get used to too. Wicked thunderstorms, tornadoes, hurricanes. BTW, do you know where Parrottsville, TN is?

[Atom]

Scary stuff! Like Atom says, you don't get that kind of weather too often do you?

Atom that was one of the first things we had to get used to too. Wicked thunderstorms, tornadoes, hurricanes. BTW, do you know where Parrottsville, TN is?No. I know where Iron City is though.

[Atom]

Infamous redneck haven, even made a movie about it they did.

Why? What's in Parrotsville? (please don't say parrots, lol)

[Atom]

Ever seen the Family Guy episode where Chris and a redneck friend poke a dead body in the swamp? Welcome to Iron City. lol

[Atom]

I guess it's spelled Parrottsville, oops..

that's between two and three hundred miles NE of me.

[Atom]

Seems I recall you mentioning in a v seven PM what was there once though, so n/m. The ol' grey matter ain't what she used to be.

[Zap]

Wow! Tornadoes are pretty rare up that way though aren't they?

Define rare. :)

We have a few each year. We've often got weather systems combining above us, which accounts for many of them.
We're pretty much open to them from April to October/November.

[Atom]

Define rare. :)

We have a few each year. We've often got weather systems combining above us, which accounts for many of them.
We're pretty much open to them from April to October/November.Well in 47 or so years up in VT, I can only recall two tornadoes and they were quite minor, I think the weather is different over by you though. I've only been down here 6-7 years and have been in close proximity to probably 20 of them, one of which passed through about 150 yds up the road of me while I was at the health center last year, where it demolished a house. It just barely missed the health center.

[Atom]

Fun stuff. Not. I get pretty nervous not really being used to them and all, aside the fact that my residence has no basement. lol

[Muddy]

Infamous redneck haven, even made a movie about it they did.

Why? What's in Parrotsville? (please don't say parrots, lol)

This spread is for sale there: August 29 2009-- Meadowcreek Resort (http://www.innotechenterprises.com/gcla/index.php?option=com_content&view=article&id=18:august-29-2009-meadowcreek-resort&catid=1:current-auctions&Itemid=2).

Funny thing though, my wife asked about the area on the horse forum she frequents and people said the same thing you did! Hatfield and McCoys! Apparently one person on her forum used to live there and when they asked their neighbors not to hunt on their land, the neighbors started shooting at them! They went to the Cocke County (I'm not making the name up!) Sheriff's office and the police advised them to "shoot back"! They swear it's true!

[Atom]

This spread is for sale there: August 29 2009-- Meadowcreek Resort (http://www.innotechenterprises.com/gcla/index.php?option=com_content&view=article&id=18:august-29-2009-meadowcreek-resort&catid=1:current-auctions&Itemid=2).

Funny thing though, my wife asked about the area on the horse forum she frequents and people said the same thing you did! Hatfield and McCoys! Apparently one person on her forum used to live there and when they asked their neighbors not to hunt on their land, the neighbors started shooting at them! They went to the Cocke County (I'm not making the name up!) Sheriff's office and the police advised them to "shoot back"! They swear it's true!Actually I heard they was a bit tamer over there in east TN. lol

They can't even find a sheriff down in Iron City that will stay on the job more than a few years I kid you not. lol

That's not a bad looking spread, I'll have to go back and check out the vid.

[Atom]

I was out mowing the path I have going around the field out back one day and one of the dang redneck neighbors was shooting clay pigeons right over my head. True story. lol

[Atom]

I guess that same neighbor and another redneck were having a feud about some damned thing and the neighbor's dog ended up shot and killed over it. I went over and looked at the dead dog to positively ID him because he was a friendly one that I used to give bones to, and sure enough it was him with a bullet hole in him. Cops came that evening asking me if I saw the guy that shot him, and I was even a suspect apparently, until I talked with him. I don't know if they ever did find the guy but the cop gave me indications that the dog owner knew who it was. The dog was near the road when he got shot so I figured he got hit by a car as I approached the carcass but that quickly turned out to not be the case, to my surprise.

[Atom]

That vid's got one hot tune ain't it? LOL, I love it!

[Muddy]

I was out mowing the path I have going around the field out back one day and one of the dang redneck neighbors was shooting clay pigeons right over my head. True story. lol

As long as we're totally hijacking this thread...

v8z0hyIx3fE

[Atom]

Jeez that is great! I'm going to show that one to my neighbor! LOL

[Strong]

I think that should be an Olympic sport!

[Muddy]

Hey Atom, about Cocke County, this is off my wife's horse forum:

Today, 06:39 AM
KindredSpirit
Senior Member Join Date: Nov 2005
Posts: 233

A funny and true Cocke County story

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

In 05 when I decided to move to TN (and NOT to Cocke County) a friend from the north sent me a story from a fellow endurance rider. It is a long but really funny story:

Part 1

My Neighbor Dwayne


Eighteen months ago my wife and I purchased some land in Eastern Tennessee
located about 25 miles north-west of the Smokey Mountains. After living 23
years in Florida we had decided (me, mostly, then, I talked her into it)
that global warming might be for real and Florida, during hurricane season,
was getting a little too dangerous. Little did we know that the place we
were moving to had it’s own elements of danger. Not with the winds, not
with the rain, not with the hurricane related tornados, but, with some of
the neighbors and a history which we found out about after we owned the land
and started spending time there.

For those of you who have never heard of Cocke County, TN before here’s a
recent excerpt from the Knoxville News Sentinel (Knoxville is 45 miles or so
from Cocke County; the place where we bought our land is 7 miles north of
Newport, the county seat):

August 1, 2005
NEWPORT, Tenn. — If the other shoe drops in Cocke County, it may sound a lot
like history repeating itself.
For the third time in 35 years, the federal government is drawing a bead on
Cocke County law enforcement as part of an effort to root out criminal
enterprises in this tight-knit mountain community of 35,000 people.
Federal and state authorities have been targeting the county for at least
four years,
deploying everything from undercover FBI agents to helicopters and SWAT
teams to support an investigation that has reportedly turned up a dizzying
array of criminal activities: drug trafficking, chop shops, the hijacking of
interstate shipments, organized gambling, prostitution, money laundering,
racketeering and public corruption.
Cocke County Sheriff D.C. Ramsey has refused to be interviewed about the
probe or to answer questions about possible connections between himself, his
family and at least three individuals who have been targeted in the current
probe.
Two of his officers have been arrested by the FBI on drug trafficking
charges in the past few weeks, and one of them has already admitted in
federal court to sidelining as an armed cocaine dealer. Ramsey's department
wasn't invited to a recent series of raids that uncovered a pair of brothels
as well as two multi-million dollar illegal gambling operations that were
allegedly thriving in his jurisdiction. More raids have targeted an auto
parts store, a flower shop, and the home of a Newport Police Department
captain.
Since the probe began about four years ago, criminal charges have been filed
against at least 168 people as state and federal agents have cracked down on
vice and associated crimes.
This isn't the first time that Cocke County has found itself in the
crosshairs of the FBI. Many of the individuals who have recently been
accused of illegal activities have been in trouble before, sometimes in
connection with previous allegations of misconduct leveled against law
enforcement officials.
One prosecutor has said the current probe represents the "last gasps" of an
outlaw tradition that began generations ago, and it appears that the first
acts of the drama now unfolding in Newport and Del Rio may have begun as
long ago as the 1960s, when Sheriff D.C. Ramsey was a young constable
elected to patrol the roads of one of East Tennessee's roughest areas. The
following chronology covers more than 35 years of local history and, for the
most part, revolves around individuals who have played important roles in
the current investigation in Cocke County.
Building a reputation
It's hard to pin down precisely when Cocke County first earned its place in
East Tennessee folklore as the region's capital of vice and corruption.
Perhaps it was in the 1920s, when Prohibition offered undreamt-of riches to
poor farmers and hillbillies willing to risk the ire of the federal
government by becoming bootleggers. The county hardly had a monopoly on
moonshine, but the men who prowled the hills and hollows near the North
Carolina state line and clashed with federal "revenuers" have become
legends.
Or maybe it started during World War II, when hordes of military servicemen
flowed through the area by rail and car while traveling between Asheville
and Knoxville. According to some accounts, the war drew prostitutes and
cash-hungry investors of the worst sort to the mountain communities of
Newport and Del Rio, forever changing the area's political and economic
landscape.


In any case, by the time John F. Kennedy became president, the area was
famous throughout the Southeast for its selection of beer joints and willing
women. The death of federal prohibition a generation earlier had barely
slowed down the illegal booze trade in East Tennessee, where most counties —
including Cocke — were still "dry" when it came to liquor sales. The ban on
spirits meant there was a lot of cash to be made for bar owners who offered
illicit moonshine or whiskey on the side, and having a few working girls on
hand only raised the profit margins that much higher.
Vice of all kinds flourished openly, especially in the numerous taverns on
Asheville Highway that catered to a rowdy subculture that liked to indulge
in moonshine, stockcar racing and cockfights. Bar operators had little fear
of arrest from local police and sheriff's deputies, but the Tennessee
Highway Patrol and other state agencies occasionally made forays into the
area. During one New Year's Eve operation in 1962, for instance, a team of
state troopers fanned out across the county and filed charges against 32
beer joints for operating without state beer certificates.
As the 1960s drew to a close, many Cocke County residents were becoming fed
up with lawlessness and began taking steps to curb it. Voters eventually
elected judges and prosecutors who were willing to take a stand against
vice, but when the first serious crackdowns occurred they were led by state
and federal agencies. A series of News Sentinel articles published in the
summer of 1969 triggered a series of investigations that ultimately led to
the arrest of nearly a dozen lawmen including then-Constable D.C. Ramsey.
…………..

OK, enough of what the Sentinel has to say about our new home. I knew
living in the land of Hillbillies, Blue Grass, Appalachia, moo cows and farm
land was going to be different but I really now must admit I had no idea
what we were in for. Cockfighting? Prostitution? Police Corruption?
Followed by drugs and chop shops. Wait till the wife finds out about this
Hillbilly version of peaceful, quiet, country living. Maybe, Howard, next
time, you might want to do a little research BEFORE YOU BUY!!!!!

One of the first neighbors I met was a fellow name of Dwayne, who lived next
door to me on our street called Peckerwood Road. Now, I know, some of you
are thinking I’m making this up. Who on earth would think of naming a road
“Peckerwood” in a county called Cocke? Are these people all crazy or what?
I’ll get around to the history of my street’s name a little later (don’t let
me forget).

cont'd...

[Muddy]

KindredSpirit
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#12 Today, 06:40 AM
KindredSpirit
Senior Member Join Date: Nov 2005
Posts: 233

part 1 con't

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I must admit, as I got to know him, I noticed a few things that were kinda
peculiar about Dwayne. He wasn’t a large fellow, about 5’ 9” or so,
probably weighed in around 160, but he was solid as a rock. He could ride a
horse (he owned 5 or 6 of them), he worked on tractors a lot, he was married
(but openly cheated with other wimmen), had 3 kids, and, well, here’s the
kicker, he was kind of an alcoholic. He was sober for about an hour after
waking up in the morning, but, by 9AM or so, he was “lit up” and he would
soon be on fire (usually by mid day).

One day Dwayne asked me if I wanted to go riding. I told him I had always
wanted to take my horses up in the mountains, to a place name of Harmon Den,
which was around 25 miles away. Dwayne says to me, “Well, let’s load em up
and go there first thing tomorrow.” I agreed and spent most of the day
looking forward to tomorrow. Normally, I would have already been to the
mountains with one of my horses, but, on this trip I had traveled to TN with
my 34 foot motor home, which was my house while in TN, with my horse
trailer in tow behind the motor home (yea, very scary). The wife was not
with me on this trip. I had no truck to pull the trailer to Harmon Den, so,
I kinda needed Dwayne for this to happen. My motor home was way too big to
go up those tiny dirt mountain roads where I wanted to go riding.

Well, tomorrow came, Dwayne had his trailer hooked up, had two of his horses
in it and told me to go get one of mine. I asked him who was going with us
and he mumbles a response “some girl.” The plan was to pick her up on the
way. Hmmmm, OK, what the heck. I go and get my Arabian, to join the two
Walkers already in the trailer, and away we go.

Dwayne’s driving a little fast, with the horses and all, and I ask him to
slow down. “My horse is not used to curves, hills and tricky turns,” I told
my new neighbor. He gives me a look, reaches down under his seat and brings
out a bottle of whiskey. Dwayne takes a swig, and passes it to me. It’s
9:30 in the morning. I take a small drink, reluctantly, trying to be
polite, damn stuff burns the heck out of my empty stomach, Dwayne continues
to drive way too fast, and, I’m thinking we’re not going to make it to the
mountains without a little help from God today. Turns out I was right about
the first part.

Along the way, Dwayne says he can’t go to the mountains today cause he has
some work he has to do on his tractor before it gets dark, but we’re gonna
do a lot of riding at Donna and Dave’s place. OK, I’m really upset, here I
was looking forward to going up to the mountains, this crazy, drunk
Hillbilly man is actually controlling me, he’s still driving way too fast, I
hear one of the horses flipping out in the trailer and I’m purty sure it’s
mine. Well, I keep all of this in, although I do let Dwayne know I’m not
happy. We pull into this market to get some beer (not my idea, believe it
or not) and my horse, American Spirit, who is in the back of the trailer is
acting crazy. He’s pulling back so hard on the tie, he rears up in the
trailer and, after I get out of Dwayne’s truck, I see him hit his head on
the roof. Then I see blood start to spurt out from my horse’s forehead.

While Dwayne is in the store getting the beer, I open up the back of his
trailer, untie America, who is bleeding so badly the blood is dripping down
towards his nostrils. I get him out of the trailer, take off my T-Shirt
(from a former Florida endurance ride), and apply pressure to my horse’s
bleeding head. Dwayne comes out of the store with a 12 pack of cheap can
beer, and says, “Whatt’re ya doing, Howard?”

I lose it completely. I start screaming at Dwayne, telling him he’s been
driving way to fast, his actions have freaked out my horse, I had to take
the horse out of the trailer to prevent him from bleeding to death, and just
why in Hell didn’t YOU tell me that we weren’t going to Harmon Den before I
put my horse in YOUR trailer.

Now keep in mind, I’m not wearing a shirt (I‘m at that age where this sight
will scare young children). Blood has dripped all over my face and bare
chest, I’m screaming at Dwayne like a madman, my bloody horse is jumping
around all over the place because of my screaming, and, to top it all off,
some strange Hillbilly look’n men have now gathered around (these fellows
were just hanging out, sitting in rocking chairs, by the entrance to the
store). I guess they’re wondering if a fight is about to take place. One of
em says, “My money’s on the little fella, with the blood all over him,
holding the horse.” haha

Dwayne walks up to me and takes a look at America’s forehead. He says Dave,
down the road, has something that will fix it up. This, somehow, calms me
down enough to reload the horse, and away we go. Little do I know at the
time, this adventure hasn’t even really begun. And, I know, not too many of
you believe me here, but, this all really did happen.

I’m still kinda smoking inside. Dwayne reaches under the seat and hands me
the whiskey bottle. Now, I’ve had a beer or two before noon once in awhile
but I never drink the hard stuff. Well, never say never. I took a swig and
as I start to hand back the bottle to Dwayne, I begin seriously thinking of
hitting this Hillbilly sitt’n next to me over the head with it. But, I
realize doing this will most likely kill me, Dwayne (for some reason this
thought didn’t bother me all that much), and our horses. I don’t hit him
with the bottle and, instead, hand it to him. He takes another drink.

The whiskey burns my belly similar to how my stomach feels before the start
of a crowded endurance ride. Sometimes, when I’m really excited doing
endurance, I think to myself, “Today is a really good day to die.” Well,
now I’m thinking, if I decide to go that route, I’m taking this Hillbilly
with me.

We pull into Dave’s place, right off the highway. There’s a modest house
and some sort of barn in the back. Dwayne and I walk back towards the barn
and I meet Dave for the first time. He’s a big guy, older than Dwayne,
probably my age (50 something), looks like he’s working on a tractor (I have
no idea what one does to work on a tractor). I shake his hand and Dwayne
says, “This here’s Howard, from Florida.”

Dave tells Dwayne Donna made a run to the store and will be back in a bit.
Dwayne and I unload two already saddled horses and go riding a little on
Dave’s property while we wait for Donna to return. I find out this guy,
Dave, owns over 800 acres. Dwayne has been teaching Dave’s wife, Donna, how
to ride a horse. Down the hill, into a holler, we ride.

This land seems to go on and on forever. America’s head is red all over from
the bleeding, but, the cut seems to be drying up and I figure the wind, from
our trotting and cantering, might help that happen even faster. I did get
some antibiotic cream from Dave to put on the cut; the yellowish ointment
was mixing with the bright red blood and turning the area around the bump
all kinds of different, rainbowish colors. I had put back on my endurance
T-Shirt, that, also, had blood all over. Wearing it made me look like I had
either killed someone, recently, or that I was engaged in some sort of
animal slaughterhouse activity. Even though I was kinda new to Cocke
County, I figured there was all kinda stories you could tell to someone who
lived here explaining why you had blood all over your T-Shirt. Something
like, “I helped out a friend who had one of his chickens entered in our
neighborhood Cock Fight last nite. Poor critter lost badly.” haha

[Muddy]

KindredSpirit
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#13 Today, 06:42 AM
KindredSpirit
Senior Member Join Date: Nov 2005
Posts: 233

Part 2

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

My Neighbor Dwayne (Part Two)

American Spirit, to me, is an incredibly athletic horse even if he is a bit
crazy. When the air is nice and cool like it is today and Spirit is feeling
awnry, I can get him to canter sideways, at a 45 degree angle. Takes awhile
getting used to, but, it’s kind of a neat way to pass someone whom you
really don’t care if you offend with your lack of trail etiquette. My guess
is, Dwayne couldn’t spell etiquette if his life depended on it.

We fly down the trail, passing Dwayne whenever we feel like it. I enjoy
running circles around Dwayne and his Walker, because, well, part of me
doesn’t really like Dwayne all that much, but, part of me finds him to be
one of the most unusual and intristing humans I’ve ever met. I will admit,
the guy can ride a horse and his horse doesn‘t seem easy to spook. I bet
having Dwayne for an owner will de-spook almost any horse, even an Arabian.

We go up and down a few hills and then head back towards Dave’s house to see
if Donna has arrived. As we climb the final hill before we reach Dave’s
driveway, I notice a car that wasn’t there when we left earlier and Dwayne
confirms it by saying, “Donna’s home.” She comes out of the house, wearing
jeans, and we walk our horses towards her.

I will admit, Donna is kinda cute. Tiny gal, trim, has a figure, and is
nowhere near her husband Dave’s age. My guess is she’s around Dwayne’s
which is early thirty something. Dwayne introduces us, sort of (this here’s
that Howard fella from Florida), we get off our horses, and I end up holding
Dwayne’s horse and mine while Dwayne gets out his other Walker from inside
his horse trailer for Donna to ride. Dwayne has this saddle pack on his
horse, and proceeds to load it up with two whiskey bottles, ice, and six or
seven beers, making sure to balance both sides of the two sided pack.

Before he puts all of this away in the pack, Donna takes a swig from one of
the whiskey bottles, and then passes it to me. Like I said before, never
say never. I take a drink. My belly burns, once again, and I start hoping
I haven’t picked up another bad habit. I say something stupid and a bit
flirtatious to Donna as I hand the bottle back to her. She smiles and
comments on my attire. “I don’t know you but my guess is you’re just a
bloody mess.” She got it right on just the visual.

Dwayne helps Donna mount up and the three of us go back down the hill, away
from the house. I notice Dave looking at us from the barn area. He doesn’t
wave.

Donna rides in front of me. She’s a green rider. Her balance is off, she
kinda leans back more than she should, and, I make the mistake of
commenting on it, trying to give her pointers and such. “Dwayne’s teaching
me to ride, don’t confuse me,” she says. “Riding a Walker’s different,”
Dwayne says to me, “you’re supposed to lean back a little.” Yea, maybe, but
I wouldn’t do it when you’re climbing up a steep hill like we were doing.

Now, I knew this wasn’t going to be an endurance worthy training ride but I
did expect to travel more than a 100 yards before dismounting. Riding with
Dwayne and Donna was travel a little, stop, take a drink, talk, probably
dismount, talk some more, drink some more, then, get back on and repeat. I
found myself leaving them behind and just taking off to get in more
distance. Plus, America was on fire and I wanted to run him some. God
Bless America (I love saying that).

Well, we get to this pond area, somehow Dwayne and Donna both get me to hold
their Walkers, so, I’m standing there holding 3 horses, which is kinda
tricky, thinking that both Dwayne and Donna are going to the bathroom. I
try not to peek in Donna’s direction (sure, Howard) but I do notice the two
of them sitting down together by the pond and then it happens. They start
making out like two teenagers in High School. And, there I am, just
standing around, holding the horses, wishing I was anywhere but here.

They keep going at it, nobody’s naked yet, but, I can’t believe the two of
them are doing this in front of me. Heck, after meeting Dave, with Dwayne
acting like he’s best friends with the guy, I can’t believe Dwayne is doing
this at all. I mean, we’re living in a part of the world where fellas are
found in the river, dead, all the time. Cocke county has more dead bodies
(murders) per capita than any other county in Tennessee and as far as states
go, Tennessee is up there. I know this to be true, I’ve since looked it up
on the Internet.

You know, I was just starting to get over not going to the mountains,
thought I’d get in a few miles on America exploring Dave’s incredible
property, with hills, hollers, creeks and such, making the best out of the
whole thing. But, I didn’t see this one coming. These two are all over
each other and there I am, stuck, holding 3 horses.

I can’t keep quiet any longer. I start to talking. “What the heck are you
guys doing there? Look, I don’t want to be standing here holding your
horses watching all this. Get back on your horses and let‘s get going.”
Donna looks right at me and says, “Shut up, Howard.”

I was so tempted to back the three horses towards these two forcing them
into the pond. Man, I wanted to do it and I was pretty sure I could. The
idea made me laugh, picturing Donna all wet and cold with some mud in her
hair thrown in. Instead, I reached into the drunk pack and took out a beer.
This is gonna be a very long day.

I finally got the two of them to mount back up. But, not before they both
had done some kissing, some drinking, and, then, back to the kissing, with a
little groping thrown in. I felt like some sort of Peeping Tom, although,
with these two you didn’t have to hide behind a bush to watch.

Both Donna and Dwayne were a little drunk by now. I could tell by the way
she got up on her horse. It took a few attempts, with Dwayne losing his
balance and then Donna losing hers, and both of them hitting the ground.
And, of course, after Donna fell on top of Dwayne they just had to start
making out again. Donna finally got up on her horse, Dwayne on his, and we
took off. Very slow walk. I took off on a trot and went up a hill trying
to get them away from me and America; I wanted this whole mess off my mind.
I loved riding here but was not enjoying the company I was keeping.

I was quite tempted to ride my horse back to my place. The thing was, I
didn’t know exactly where I was and, it seemed, I would have to travel on a
busy public road, with lots of blind curves, no shoulder, and nothing but
crazy danger (you should see how some of them drive up here, like NASCAR or
something). If I knew a back way, a little safer, this is what I would have
done, but, I didn’t. I decided to go back and bug Dwayne to take me home.
I knew I was purty good at bugging someone when I put my mind to it.

I spot the two adulterers down a hill and America and I approach them
slowly. Dwayne’s in front, Donna’s second, and I bring up the rear. I
start to talking (Dwayne, we should get heading back, it’s getting late) and
Donna turns around and says it again. “Shut up, Howard.”

I’m mapping out in my mind my route back to my camper. I gotta get away
from these two nut jobs. I can’t help but notice Donna leaning back on her
horse. Farther and farther and then, she just leans where her back is
almost touching the horse and off she goes. KERPLOP! Her head hit’s the
hard ground hard. And, she just lies there, not moving. Shit, Donna’s
dead.

Just so you know, people up here don’t ever wear riding helmets, even green
riders like Donna. I wasn’t even wearing mine, like I normally do. I guess
I was trying to fit in or something. There should be a law that riders like
Donna must wear them. Heck, in Donna’s case she should be dressed like a
football player before she ever gets on a horse. With extra padding!

Dwayne hops off his horse, I hop off mine. I take the reins of Dwayne’s
horse and Donna’s as Dwayne finds out if his girlfriend is dead or alive.
I’m thinking she’s dead. What on earth are we gonna say to Dave? How did I
even get involved in any of this? Will Dave shoot me too? This is crazy,
absolutely crazy.

I forgot to tell you, when I went into Dave’s house with him to get the
ointment for America, I noticed rifles, shotguns and hand guns placed inside
glass gun racks all over the house. There was a head of a antlered deer on
the wall and a bear skin by the fireplace. I never met anyone who had
killed a bear before so I asked Dave if he had shot this one. He said he
goes bear hunting every year and has gotten 4 or 5 of them in his lifetime.
Then, he looks right at me and says, “Sometimes you track the bear,
sometimes, the bear tracks you.”

This is running though my head as Dwayne leans down and starts talking to
Donna. “Come on Donna get up, get up.” Nothing. She just lays there.
Donna’s dead!

OK, now I’m freaking out. I know I’m going to get part of the blame here.
Guilt by association. I start thinking of all those life saving courses I
took while in the Air Force. I remember, first thing you do, check the
pulse. I gotta check her pulse before I pass out. I’m feeling a little
dizzy already. My stomach is churning and I think I’m gonna puke. Wake up,
Howard, wake up! Man, if only this was a dream.

[Muddy]

Part 3 the end

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I put America’s reins around his neck attaching it to the saddle hoping he
won’t take off. I do the same with Dwayne’s Walker. I walk to where Dwayne
is kneeling along side Donna and ask him if she’s breathing. He nervously
says he can’t tell.

I take my glasses off, bend over Donna and put them by her nostrils. They
fog up just a bit. She’s breathing, very faintly. Oh, thank God. The
Hillbilly gal is alive and I just might not get shot today. I keep hearing
Dave’s voice playing in the back of my head, “Sometimes you track the bear,
sometimes, the bear tracks you.”

Suddenly, Donna starts moving and her eyes open up real wide. Dwayne and I
cheer. “Donna, we gotta get you to a hospital, you just got knocked out
which means you have a concussion,” says the non Hillbilly (me).
“Whaaa???,” she mumbles. We ask her if she can stand up. “Whaaaa????”

After a few more minutes we decide to try and get her up off the cold
ground. Her body is limp, she’s lost control of a few motor skills. I’m
thinking we can put her over the horse like they do in cowboy movies when
they bring in a dead body to the Sheriff, but, she seems to be getting some
life into her and actually asks us to help her get back on her horse. Her
bravery gives a completely different meaning to the phrase “Cowgirl Up,”
cause I got the feeling she would soon be “down” again. To prevent this
from happening, Dwayne decides he’s gonna ride behind her, double, and asks
me to pony the extra horse. I agree. I somehow get him to promise me we’re
gonna get the heck out of here, as soon as we can, once we get Donna back to
Dave. I get the feeling Dwayne wants out of there almost as much as I do.

Donna yells out, “Dwayne, I love you.” Oh, crap, that’s all we need. She
says it again. “Shut up, Donna.” I just had to say it. “I love you too,
Howard, but, I love Dwayne more.” Oh, man, Donna has just entered the
delusional universe called “I love Everyone.” I’ve never been there,
myself, but heard it’s nice. That’s all I need is for her to say that she
loves me when we get within earshot of her bear killing husband. I make a
silent vow to myself that I will never get caught up in this sort of thing
with Dwayne and Donna and whoever else Dwayne is giving “lessons” to again.
Please, God, just get me through this, let me and America reach our safe
place where adulterers don’t adulterate and I’ll start going to Church, or
not, whatever you think is best. I just wanna live.

Donna doesn’t look good, and, as the three of us walk our horses back
towards the house, I start realizing Dave is gonna wonder just went on out
here today. Donna has some scratches on her face and the back of her head,
the hair, is sort of matted and has a little mud packed in. Her clothes are
stained and dirty, especially the back of her light colored blouse which
seems to be torn near the back left shoulder. The cloth now has a dark
orange tint to it that wasn’t there before. I suddenly notice, riding
alongside her and Dwayne, that Donna’s bra doesn’t look right. Part of it,
one of the cups isn’t where it should be, it has a lopsided look to it and I
point this out to Dwayne. He reaches under Donna’s blouse and puts it where
it should go. “I love you, Howard,” Donna says.

NO, NO, NO, I yell out. Donna, that’s Dwayne who is touching you. Howard
has never touched you, never, ever. Donna, you hate Howard. You hate him.
Howard, no good, Dwayne, wonderful. “I love you, Howard.”

Fear is a motivator. There have been stories of humans performing
incredible acts under fear or duress. I know that feeling; I understand it.
I was going through it right here, right now because I thought Donna was
gonna get me killed and I had a feeling Dwayne would do what he had to do to
save his own skin. I can hear him saying, to whoever would be listening,
years later, “That fella from Florida just got a little too friendly with
Donna and Dave killed him. Bang, right between the eyes. Dave and me put
his body in the back of the truck, drove down to the river and threw him in.
You should never fool around with another man’s wife.” Weirder things
have happened up here in Cocke County. Haha

We finally reach the house. I tie up the two horses under my control to the
side of the horse trailer. Then, I run over to help Dwayne get Donna down
from her horse. I tell Dwayne I’m gonna load up the horses while he takes
Donna over into the house and has a chat with Dave. I want no part of this
conversation, I’m innocent and not involved, plus I want to be ready for a
high speed (just how high speed do you think you’re gonna get towing a goose
neck horse trailer?) get away.

I load the three horses in record time. I’m in a hurry. Let’s get the heck
out of here. I grab a beer out of the drunk pack, to calm down, and,
hopefully, to celebrate leaving this madness. I figure I’ll hide out in
Dwayne’s cab. I open the door and there sits Donna.

“What are you doing in here, Donna?” Shit, where’s Dwayne? “Donna, get out
of this truck, you need to go to the hospital.”

“I’m going home with Dwayne. I’m not getting out of this truck. I wanna
live with Dwayne.” No, no, no, no, this is not happening. I start
breathing rapidly, I’m hyperventilating, I feel dizzy.

I can hear Dwayne talking to Dave, just out of eyesight around the side of
the house. Dwayne’s saying, “I don’t know why she’s acting this way, Dave,
she’s been drinking and is acting crazy.” I hear Dave say, “Dwayne, you
were supposed to be giving her lessons, not letting her get hurt.“ I hear
anger in Dave’s voice. I start thinking of going in the horse trailer and
hiding out with the horses, the only ones who seem to be in a safe location
right now. Somebody, help me, please.

Dave walks over to the cab. He starts talking to Donna. I avoid eye
contact and don’t say a word. I can’t remember the last time I’ve been this
scared. Please, Donna, shut the heck up and get out of this truck.

Dave says, “Donna get out of this truck now or I’m gonna call your Momma.”
Man, I never thought of that one. Evidently, down here, calling one’s Momma
is about the most effective thing one person can do to another, cause Donna
gets out of the truck. And, the best part, she doesn’t say a word. I want
to tell Dave he needs to take her to the hospital, but, I shut up. I
somehow have the feeling if I say anything I’ll be the one who ends up in
the hospital.

Dwayne helps Dave get Donna in the house. I get in the cab, drink my beer,
and, I pray. Get me out of here, get me out of here, get me out of here.
Out comes Dwayne and he can’t find his keys. Oh, shit. Then I remember
seeing him put them in the glove compartment earlier in the day. I open it,
get out the keys, Dwayne starts up the truck and we get the heck out of
there. As we drive towards Peckerwood Road I don’t even have to ask Dwayne
to drive slow.

The End

Final Note: No, I didn’t forget. I met another neighbor, Marty, on my new
street who told me the history of how Peckerwood Road got it’s name. Seems
as though Marty’s Grand Pa was one of the first one’s to live on the road
back in the 1940‘s. Back then, everyone had a nickname. The locals called
Marty’s Grand Pa “Peckerwood” cause he had bright red hair. Evidently, the
Peckerwood is a type of wood pecker who has a red kind of crown on his head
and that’s how Marty’s Grand Pa got his nickname. Somehow this nickname
carried over to become the name of our street.

When Marty got married, his wife decided she did not like living on a road
called Peckerwood. She somehow got the county to change the name to
Marshall, which is Marty’s and Debby’s last name. Plus, there’s a bunch of
other Marshall’s (3, actually) who, also, live on the road. I know you
don’t believe me here, you probably don’t believe any of it, but, I have a
map, I carry it with me all the time, it’s a few years old, but it shows
Peckerwood as the name of the street where my wife and I will build our
final house. We already got a barn built. To me, it will always be
Peckerwood Road and I fully intend on being buried there.

I will conclude with the notion that I love living in this part of the
world. I believe this is a part of America, America as it should be, that
few folks ever get to experience. I’m not speaking of all the alleged bad
things the Sentinal writes about Cocke County, I’m speaking of living in a
small, tight knitted community where people actually take care of each other
and you know who everyone is, the good and the bad. Where you can hear the
sound of silence, day and night, a place where there’s more moo cows than
cars. I’ve never felt so alive in my entire life. I’ve met some fantastic
people and I feel I have finally found a place where I fit in. Yea, I know,
I’ll always be an Outlander (it’s the term the locals use for people not
born here), they’ll always make fun of me (they laughed when I asked a fella
what a polecat was; a term he used when he was telling a story. It‘s a
skunk), and, heck, to them, I might always be that fella from Florida. I
don’t care.

Believe it or not, I even started going to Church. Brunner Grove Methodist
Church, Bybee, Tennessee. Very small congregation, very cool, good, decent
people, and, we got the worst Choir that you ever did hear. I sing in that
Choir. My wife has never been happier.

I no longer hang out with Dwayne; it just ain’t healthy. Someone told me the
other day that Donna now has a total fear of horses, her husband put her in
some sort of alcohol rehab program and she‘s doing better. I doubt if Donna
will ever ride a horse again. God Bless.

[Muddy]

KindredSpirit
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#15 Today, 06:47 AM
KindredSpirit
Senior Member Join Date: Nov 2005
Posts: 233

And what Howard said when I asked if this was true

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Subject: Howard's TN story

Well, Howard swears its true. I can't vouch for it, but
I can put you in touch with Howard. Here's his email

He's really a pretty sensitive guy despite the way it sounds

Send him a note and introduce yourself. Can't have too many
friends. He, his wife and daughter all compete in Endurance Riding
Gotta love these guys

From Howard:

Tell your friend if she's feeling lonely and in need of male company I can
always give her Dwayne's cell number. 1-800-DIAL-A-HILLBILLY.

Yes, drunk Hillbillies have cell phones. ONe thing I left out of my story,
Dave, Donna's hubby, has this big ole cell phone tower on his 800 acres.
Told me he get's 900 bucks a month for having that God awful looking thing
on his property. That buys lots of buckshot for bear hunting. haha.

cya,
Howard (sometimes you track the bear, sometimes, the bear tracks you)

[julien_simon]

you sure type fast Muddy ;)

[Muddy]

That's what she said.