Cooters A1 Toewing: So what was that about Monday?

I had a few other things I wanted to relate to ya’ll but its getting late and I need serious sleep so I can go visit our grand SSI office here to get the final lap of the race to getting my funds in my hands without the need of a handler, or payee.

So I began creating a new banner for the blog here that is primarily for my crew in my company and select members of the Knytes-of-Anarchy. It’s not for public consumption. Any mile getting back on track, so I went searching for just some cute toes in nylon hose, and all I saw was hundreds of porn shots, and little I could work with. I did find however some good ones on Pinterest. Although even those, toes in hose, had the gal in the shot. Is it too much to ask to just get the pic of JUST THE TINY CUTE TOES IN NYLON HOSE? Its like a few years ago, I was trying to do up some things for Wrangler Jeans, especially Cowgirls wearing Wrangler CowGirl cut jeans. The old saying there’s nothing better looking to a man that a butt in Wranglers. Guess what? More porn, not one, and I mean not one pic of a cowgirls butt. Much less in Wranglers. Does that mean no one has photographed a gals posterior in Wranglers? Or is it few gals have the small hand cheek tight butt to fit the vision of a cowgirls tail in Wranglers?

Now its not that I’m becoming a Book of Mormon thumper or a prude here. I like most healthy genuine confederate male corpuscle loves women, although my ability to snag one here for about 20 years has been slim and none. Not that there isn’t some its just most that respond to any online date search I throw out there is far too fugdugly for me to get involved with. Maybe that’s a bit too superficial, but my eyes have to be satisfied along with the rest of me. Let me give you an example. Back in about 1997-98 somewhere, I was looking for more of a rural setting to plant my bones and build a life. So I moved to Tooele Utah. 30 miles west of SLC, but yet out in the sticks at least it was then.

So as usual the club was looking to erect a rebel style radio station there. Back then it could be done today some overlapping signals makes that a crap shoot.

So as usual , threw an ad in the local paper. This one extra poundage gal name Eva showed up. Don’t ask me why , but she liked my package and at first I liked hers. That and several attributes, including a newer computer with Internet, and cable. So I tried her on for size. After we had made a trip to Hazzard she really got serious with me in bringing Dixie Diesel Trucker Radio, part of the seed that has became HazzardAyre. Any mile for the first few weeks of the relationship it wasn’t bad. Harley was getting rode often enough, she wore nylons and cooked well, even Okra. But then we needed a calendar and some visual eye candy for trade publication ads and the like. A slightly younger Native American gal named Marie, applied for the job as a production assistant. A few others came around as well, to the point, that try as I might my eyes would not let me get excited about Eva any more. Of course ultimately the relationship ended, I lived in a basement apartment of hers for a few months, and found a crap hole eventually moving over to Farmington. But since then, if the gal, that I get involved with does not have at least SOME Eye Candy, I’d just rather stay at home and watch old movies. Looking back now perhaps I should have stayed with Eva, but back then I was thinner, better looking and not so grey haired. I have tried searching online for her but she is no where to be found,. I have looked for some of her kids, her oldest daughter now would be available but that could get complicated. Of Course there was Barbie, who worked at a local café there in Tooele that connected with me. But as with anything, social skills especially with the opposite gender is not as graceful or easy for me. I can link some of it to a point of my life during the mid 1970’s. Between Steve’s Towing of Ogden Utah’s Dodge Tow truck, and ultimately LexiBelle and Hazzard County.

Back then with some sales carpetbagging by my cousin Bud, mom and dad bought into a certain facility for gifted youth called Provo Canyon School. So One day I came home to the farm to find two guys that looked like just released missionaries, waiting for me. My bags were packed, and without any options for argument sake I went with them to a living hell. In fact I don’t think hell is that bad. Over time much of the damage of that place has healed or at least buried to a point to where I can function. So Monday comes this guy and a really hot gal, Asian I think, in very short shorts and a slightly revealing tank top. It was difficult keeping my mind on the interview and not be thinking what it would be like to play house with this photographer. What’s going to be on and of that interview who knows. The guy conducting the interview said he was going to have some attorney working for a gal suing the school. Something I’d love to do, in fact thought on it several times, reasons I didn’t are simple, no cash to hire the right legal eagle and second the statute of limitations at least from my point of view had lapsed. But the gal suing now has a local legal eagle who I was told would be contacting me. It don’t take this long for the attorney to call, at least if he’s really interested in my participation.

My situation at PCS was a bit different than most there. Sure I got abused, molested and all the rest, but I was also a bit smarter than most of the kids there. Between the 40 lashes across my back the ball bat to my legs especially knees which is why to this day, I can’t stand for very long, coupled with that confounded time reduction where you had to stand like a statue for upwards of the time period of 300 hours. Never could figure out the therapeutic vale in that, but I got smart and I learned how to get some albeit low on the authority pole, but how to get staff to extend privileges. Especially this one staff guy who surfaced close to the time I was about to get out of the stink hole. His name is Kelly Farmer, and supposedly he played minor league baseball somewhere. The short of it, the guy would get me out of bed late nights and we’d sneak out to the canteen and get sodas and pastries. He was one of a damn few there that gave a shit what was happening to the rest of the kids there. He was discharged only after a month or two.

Rather than dredge all that up, much of my social skills were thwarted or at least skewed . I can say if it hadn’t been for the members of the Knytes both in Idaho as well as Utah, in fact it was a cb radio relay through club members to Idaho from Provo that got word to Mom & Dad that got me out of there. But if it hadn’t been the brotherhood of the Knytes, and a few people like my supervisor at Deseret Transportation Rocky, and of course Charles Legg of A1 Towing and Auto Repair, I would have long ago been in a 5X5 room, somewhere. The loss of my Mom in 1983, of which the cast of the Dukes-of-Hazzard endeared me to that show, for life. Between The Knytes, Charlie, and yes DOH, I’ve been able to stay sane , considering since PCS, just about everything since 1983 has been taken away, except for LexiBelle>to many its just an old tow truck and realistically she is. But LexiBelle is the last thing left on Earth that came from Mom & Dad to me and has been with me for the many years since PCS. She may not be good for everyday serious toewing duty, but LexiBelle and what she represents is what gives me the will to wake up for each morning.

Maybe some day one of those super great charity fix it up shows like Trick My Truck or OverHaulin, or maybe Search and Restore, will read some of my feelings I put in these blogs and come out west and restore LexiBelle to her pristine original self. But even if they don’t peeling paint, rusted out floor, and all to me THAT truck is the most beautiful thing on this third rock from the sun that some call Earth.

So As I close, I still want to know, what was all that on Monday for? And when or will it ever get aired?

Fellow rebel Confederates, when I know, you’ll know.

Gotta close now, bed is needed.

TTYL