Saving The Old Rustbucket--My 1982 FJ40 Tale (2 Viewers)

[lilrdwgn]

Been following from the beginning (and hooked from the beginning, thanks Lee). Greatly enjoyed the latest chapter, read some to the missus for the first time.

Anyways, while doing paperwork tonight had the TV on in the background with Seinfeld reruns and of course the episode is the one where Peterman is introduced. Just had to share.

Thanks again Lee.

 

[kling-on]

Great read thanks for letting us enjoy this Awsome trip

Sent from outer space via my mind

 

[lordbater]

Bravo....

Robbers was a great read for me, it includes some great Texas places, I hope you enjoy it as much as I did.. And.... Maybe it will be some inspiration... As far as I can tell the author isn't a writer by trade, but has a natural ability as you do, even if his is fiction...


a

 

[My71FJ40]

Smiled through the whole chapter. I'm glad this story has a long way to go yet, living vicariously through your story is tough but I think we'll manage it.

 

[trainrech]

So this is what it feels like to be looking for your dope dealer every night, but finding he's not always there. Some nights we get candy, some nights we go home empty handed.

 

[kling-on]

So this is what it feels like to be looking for your dope dealer every night, but finding he's not always there. Some nights we get candy, some nights we go home empty handed.

ain't that the truth ... Cruiser crack

 

[Weber Sarge]

I'm not the most well-travelled soul , but also not without my fair share ....
That said , wtf is a potsticker ????

Surrealism ? How about working on a 160 acre solar farm next to a wind farm due to migratory habitat of some local endangered bat ?

Sarge

 

[lordbater]

In my experience, a potsticker is a japanese dumpling usually consumed with soy sauce. I'm imagining a beef hybrid in this case..
A

 

[twoyotas]

served in every chinese restaurant. "This traditional recipe is from the area of Northern China. Wonton wrappers are stuffed with finely chopped vegetables and pork, then fried and served with a spicy dipping sauce" very tasty yumminess. Pot Stickers Traditional Recipe - Allrecipes.com

bison potstickers with mango sauce sound pretty good. makes me want to pass through Bozeman!

 

[waxwrapped]

Lee,

Fantastic thread. I was turned on to it about a week ago and have been hooked ever since. Thanks for bringing us along for the ride.

-Grant

 

[G-Cat]

With tongue-in-cheek, I wonder if it wouldn't be great if you soon ran the Rust Bucket into a ditch... there to be saved by your biggest fan (picture Kathy Bates).

Of course, she'd nurse you back to health and then, chained to her bed ( I couldn't have you hobbled, Lee!) she'd force you to write non-stop...getting us a chapter (maybe two?) per day!

Eagerly awaiting the next chapter.

 

[Texican]

With tongue-in-cheek, I wonder if it wouldn't be great if you soon ran the Rust Bucket into a ditch... there to be saved by your biggest fan (picture Kathy Bates).

Of course, she'd nurse you back to health and then, chained to her bed ( I couldn't have you hobbled, Lee!) she'd force you to write non-stop...getting us a chapter (maybe two?) per day!

Eagerly awaiting the next chapter.[/QUOT

that's cold

 

[NOR CAL CRUISER]

With tongue-in-cheek, I wonder if it wouldn't be great if you soon ran the Rust Bucket into a ditch... there to be saved by your biggest fan (picture Kathy Bates).

Of course, she'd nurse you back to health and then, chained to her bed ( I couldn't have you hobbled, Lee!) she'd force you to write non-stop...getting us a chapter (maybe two?) per day!

Eagerly awaiting the next chapter.

This made me till i ............

and ,Ben

 

[Sea Knight]

Bozeman

...bison potstickers with mango sauce sound pretty good. makes me want to pass through Bozeman!

Yeah, potstickers, more commonly known as Chinese dumplings. Montana Aleworks served them with a spicy sauce in addition to their mango. I stuck with mango. It was so good there was no point in experimenting. Did I mention that they went very well with stout? At least I think they did. May have had something to do with the server.

You won't have any difficulty finding reasons to spend time in Bozeman. That may have been the best stop on my trip. I'm already planning a return visit for next year's epic drive to Alaska.

With tongue-in-cheek, I wonder if it wouldn't be great if you soon ran the Rust Bucket into a ditch... there to be saved by your biggest fan (picture Kathy Bates).

Of course, she'd nurse you back to health and then, chained to her bed ( I couldn't have you hobbled, Lee!) she'd force you to write non-stop...getting us a chapter (maybe two?) per day!

Eagerly awaiting the next chapter.

You'd have no way of knowing this, but part of your scenario already happened, last March. A soccer mom in a mini-van ran me and the rustbucket off the highway onto a banked shoulder. We did a high speed rollover, with substantial damage to both me and the truck. Your story falls apart there. Not only did she not nurse me back to health. She fled the scene. I'll disclose the full details whenever we get around to the rustbucket part of this tale. At the moment, we're still in Montana with me snoozin' away at the Blue Sky.

BTW, I doubt you'd really want to see a chapter a day. That would be overload, and everyone would lose interest. Better to string you out and maintain a high level of suspense. Already started the last Bozeman installment. If I can carve out some time this weekend, it may be ready to post by Monday.

Lee

 

[myquestoyota]

BTW, I doubt you'd really want to see a chapter a day. That would be overload, and everyone would lose interest. Better to string you out and maintain a high level of suspense. Already started the last Bozeman installment. If I can carve out some time this weekend, it may be ready to post by Monday.

Lee


Oh sure, make us wish it was Monday.

 

[Sea Knight]

Happy Monday

Robbers was a great read for me, it includes some great Texas places...

I found a couple of chapters of Robbers on line and remembered that I read the book when it came out. The author lived in Austin at the time and the first part of his story takes place here in some very familiar places. Good stuff. I may try to find it at the library and read it again.

Oh sure, make us wish it was Monday.

Well it's Monday, but I only got 75% of Bozeman, part four completed over the weekend. I'm sort of at a natural stopping point so I'll post it up, the part that's finished. Hate to do that, but also hate to break the rhythm of the tale so here goes.

 

[DaveWest5150]

waiting...............................................................................

 

[lordbater]

I found a couple of chapters of Robbers on line and remembered that I read the book when it came out. The author lived in Austin at the time and the first part of his story takes place here in some very familiar places. Good stuff. I may try to find it at the library and read it again.

Just from reading your posts in this thread I had a funny feeling you might have read that, it seems right up your/our/maybe many of your other readers alley...


yall go get it if you haven't...
may slightly quench your thirst for good reading material while waiting on The Commander to 'release' another chapter...

I'm not sure, but I don't think it ever made it to paperback...
I'd loan yall mine, but I don't have one, it's one of the few books my dad gave me that he insisted I give him back...

A

 

[lordbater]

ok, here ya go:

Amazon.com: christoper cook robbers

FYI, I just ordered myself a used copy of this book. It's one of the few that I will keep in my library, meaning that I will read it again.. (I wouldn't let my GF read my dad's copy because she dog ears pages, I'll let her dog ear this one, it's an ex library copy..)

get with it...

If you can read then this book might keep you busy for a week or so between The Commander's posts. If you want PM me and I'll try an provide some more stuff (I don't wanna detract from this work of art) and please feel free to PM me with reading recommendations..

a

 

[Sea Knight]

Bozeman--Part Four

Well the dawn cracked hard just like a bull whip
Cause it wasn't takin' no lip from the night before
And the sky turned the color of Pepto-Bismol
And the parking lots growled
--Tom Waits​

I crack my eyes and see the neon Blue Sky Motel sign shining through the curtains, confirming that I made it back to the room in one piece. Without looking I know it's 0600 because like it or not, that's the time my internal alarm clock sounds every morning. It's an unfortunate habit picked up in the service, one I've never been able to shake, but today I have no desire to get out of bed. The cleaning crew ran us out of the Grill Room well after closing and I seem to remember Jen and her friends dropping me off at the motel around 2 AM. I must have been in a hurry to crash because I'm still fully dressed, and it tastes like a herd of buffalo used my mouth as a latrine. Hmm, those Bison potstickers are comin' back on me, and I think I remember having a couple of beers. I'm definitely gonna need more than four hours sleep.

I hit the deck and peer out the door, see nothing happening that requires my immediate attention, use the head, brush my teeth, and fall back into bed. Two hours pass, but it seems like only minutes before I begin hearing activity in the parking lot. Car doors slamming, engines revving, tires crackling on icy pavement, a dog barking in the distance. I turn my back to the door and assume a fetal position, pull a blanket over my head and attempt to block out the noise. Doesn't work. I'm still hearing things, but different things, and much closer than the parking lot. It sounds like women whispering, and there's the unmistakable sound of someone snoring. Then a woman's voice..."Peterman, wake up. It's after 8. Time for breakfast."

Peterman? This has to be a nightmare. I put a pillow over my head.

Quiet for a while. Then more whispering, but this time it's louder and impossible to ignore. I think I smell coffee. I finally sit up in bed, turn toward the sound and see two women silhouetted against the window, sitting at the round table inside my door. The same voice, this time louder, and insistent: "Get up. We're hungry. We brought Wild Joe's coffee." On the table is a cardboard caddy with four tall cups of coffee. I squint and see that it's Anne and the other girl from Montana Ale Works, the one who's name I can't remember.

Me: "Wha...What are you doing here?"
Anne: "You promised us breakfast. You told us to come at 7."
Me: "Huh? I did? How'd you get in ?"
Anne: "Your door was open. We thought you opened it for us."
Other girl: "We were late. We got here at 7:30."
Anne: "You weren't up. Jen told us to go get coffee."
Me: "Jen? Where is she?"
Anne: "I guess she decided to take a nap. She's right there."

She nods toward the bed nearer the window and I hear muffled snoring again. I stand and attempt to focus and there's Jen, laying on her stomach on the other side of my mound of laundry, snoring like a lumberjack.

Anne: "Sorry about the Peterman thing. We were just jokin' with you."
Me: "Here's an idea. Why don't you wake up Jen and all of you take a hike. I need a shower."
Jen: "I'm awake, and we aren't leaving. You can shower later. We're here to collect."
Me: "Collect what?"
Jen: "You said you were buyin' breakfast. And taking us for a ride. So here we are."

And the ladies treat me kindly
And furnish me with tape
But deep inside my heart
I know I can't escape.
--Bob Dylan​

That's right. I know I can't escape. Jen stands, does one of her slow feline stretches, grabs two cups of coffee, walks over and hands me one, says there's cream and sugar on the table. She informs me that Wild Joe's coffee is the best in Montana, I should drink it while it's hot. Anne says it's Honduras dark roast, featured bean of the day. I learned my lesson about cream and manliness at the Silver Spur and I decide to take it black, 'cause apparently I have an image to maintain. It's a fine choice, smooth and strong, chocolatey aftertaste, no need to doctor something this tasty. If they're gonna make me get up, I guess this is a good start.

Me: "I give up. At least let me wash my face. Where we goin' ?"
Jen: "The Cateye. There's usually a wait, but it's worth it. It's your kind of place."

My kind of place? I don't know what that means, and I'm afraid to ask. I suppose I'll find out soon enough. The Turtle has a Confer bench seat in the back, barely wide enough for two kids, but the girls are insistent on a turtle ride so Jen takes shotgun and the other two squeeze onto the bench. They look cramped but assure me they're comfortable, and we're off, the sun still rising over the Crazy Mountains to the east. Anne tells me the locals call them "The Crazies," which seems somehow fitting.

The Cateye is only a few blocks down the street, a block off Main, occupying a small two story building, the cafe up stairs. It's a funky looking place, painted bright yellow with purple trim, one side of the building covered by a huge mural featuring a cow in a pasture ,and snow capped mountains in the background. Interesting, certainly unconventional looking, like the little hippie hole-in-the-wall joints we used to have in Austin, the anti-IHOP. I don't see the connection between the cow mural and a cat eye, but it's been obvious for several days that I wasn't meant to understand anything that happens on this trip, so I don't even bother asking. There's a half dozen people on the sidewalk and a line winding all the way up the staircase. I've never been patient with waiting and this doesn't look promising but my harem insists on staying so we park and get in line. Our timing isn't so bad after all. A wave of people leave all at once and we're seated within minutes. Jen tells me to read the house rules before ordering. She says it'll keep me out of trouble. I don't listen.

Waitress: "Ready to order?"
Me: "Can I substitute pancakes for toast, with an omelet?"
Waitress: "No, you can't, and you're wasting my time."
Me: "Pardon?"
Waitress: "Read the menu. I'll be back later."
Jen: "I tried to warn you."

I find a loose page stuck inside the menu.

The Way of The Cateye:

--Order off the menu--that's why we have one.
--We will gladly substitute nothing for anything, or we might substitute something for something, but we will never substitute something for nothing. No guarantees, ever.
--Being annoying is prohibited, open to our interpretation, staff excluded.
--If you have a fork, then you don't need a spoon to stir your coffee.

And there's more rules, a full page of them. After going through the motions of studying the list our waitress eventually returns and I end up ordering a BLT omelet--bacon, spinach and sun dried tomatoes, country taters, cut the toast, side of blueberry pancakes with real maple syrup. Jen has banana bread French toast, Anne and the other girl have Cateye breakfast burritos. It's all phenomenal and I have to admit, Jen hasn't steered me wrong yet. As soon as we finish eating the waitress returns with the bill and tells us we have to vacate. There's still a line, and they need our table, so it's "Thanks, hope you enjoyed breakfast, come back again, and don't let the door hit you in the ass when you leave." No offense intended, it's just one of the rules. Our tab is fifty bucks and change but I have no basis for complaining. Even though I never saw a bill for last night's damages, these girls hooked me up for easily twice that much in food and libations and got me back to the motel safely so I figure I owe them, and I'm probably way ahead of the game.

We make our way back to The Turtle, mount up, and Jen says, "Now for that ride."

Me: "You just had a ride. You mean back to the motel, right?"
Jen: "No, we're gonna take you for a mountain drive."
Me: "No way. I need to shower and check out.
Jen: "Why?"
Me: "Checkout time is 11 AM, and I have to be in Missoula this afternoon. It's already past 10."
Jen: "You don't have to worry about checkout time. Remember, you have connections."
Me: "But, but..."
Jen: "You can spare a couple of hours. Missoula is only 200 miles. You can make it in 3 hours."
Me: "No, more like 4 hours."
Jen: "So what, 4 hours, 24 hours, it's not like there's anyone waiting for you. Is there?"
Me: "Sigh. No, there isn't. Tell me which way to go."

Jen says we're about to take the most spectacular drive in Montana. We'll follow a winding two lane path through the valley toward Bridger Bowl, climbing through the mountains and ending in a tiny town called Wilsall fifty miles northeast of Bozeman. It's a paved all weather road, Bridger Canyon Road, and we'd better gas up first because there's nothing but wilderness and mountains along the way. And after we negotiate that drive, there's a reward at the end. She says there's a quaint little pub in Wilsall. Well yeah, of course there is.

To be continued...