Yee Haw! Texas Done Done ‘Er Agin!

29 Oct

 by L. Lee Roy Loving

 

Editor’s Note: While your regular host of “This Old Spouse,” Roger White, continues his convalescence from complications of his belly button lift procedure, guest columnist L. Lee Roy Loving has graciously volunteered to sit in the writer’s garret.

 

Garret? What in the sam hill’s a garret? Well ah ain’t sittin’ in it, ah’ll tell ya that raht now. Ah ain’t even gonna step in it.

 

Anywho. Howdy! Ah’m proud, gang! Yeee spankin’ haw, ah’m proud! We done ’er agin! Now, fer yew buckaroos and buckerettes who may not know, L. Lee Roy Loving is a Texan, born ’n’ bred ’n’ buttered. Yes ah am. Ah done thought ah lost mah native accent over the yars, but ah guess ah ain’t. Ya see, when ah found out that the Lone Star State done herself proud like she done h’yar recently, mah twang came back faster’n a three-legged possum a-runnin’ from a mess uh white-bellied sidewinders. (spit, clang!)

 

Now, if’n y’all understan’ that us Texans like to be first, best, biggest, longest, tallest, fastest, an’ everthang-est, then y’all can git why ah’m so giddy. The good ol’ boys ’n’ gals down at the Capitol in Austin figgered out another way to put us at the top o’ the hayloft. An’ believe me, it’s serious bidness in Austin. Y’all did know, fer example, that we had our state Capitol built ’bout 15 feet higher than the nation’s Capitol building way back in the day, didn’t ya? This here top-o-the-hill thang goes a fur piece back. Anyhow, ah got wind that we just got us a stretch o’ road runnin’ twixt Austin an’ San Antone whar you kin git yer truck up to 85 miles pur hour—all legal-like an’ everthang. That thar stretch o’ State Hahway 130 is now the proud owner o’ the fastest speed limit in the hole US of A. Hot dang! Ah’m ah prouder than if ah’s two-steppin’ with a Highland Park painted lady on a dress-up Saturday. Mm. (hitch up belt, spit, clang!)

 

It’s a toll road, mind ya, so yer gonna haf to fork over ’bout six bucks to try ’er out. But shoot, you’d shell out that much fer a basket o’ steak fangers at Dairy Queen, so go on, give ol’ Hahway 130 a try. Asides, if we git a hole passel o’ folks a’goin’ 85, it gives us a better shot at bein’ Number One in anuther category. Ah done looked up traffic fay-talities bah state at that there US Census Burro web thang, and do yew know whut it done said? It said that the last yar they done studies bah state—2009—that Callyfornia had more folks kilt on thar roads than we done. Now, it weren’t bah much, mind ya: Sissyfornia had 3,081 road kills, un we all had 3,071. Heck far, that there’s only ’bout 11 er 12 behind, if’n ah ’member mah fancy math all correct like. We cain’t let that lily-livered left coast state beat us out like that. That’d be as bad as a no-account red-headed baby chicken hawk gettin’ the better of a blue tick coonhound on parade day at the stock show. (insert pinch between cheek, gum)

 

But it looks like we’ll catch ’em. This here city slicker name o’ Jonathan Adkins, he’s what ya call the deputy executive director fer the Governors Hahway Safety Association. Now ol’ Mister Adkins says he wouldn’t want to be in no accident going 85. “Whenever we see a posted speed limit, we think we can go above it,” ol’ Adkins said. “We think we can go 5 or 10 miles per hour above the limit. So the reality is you’re talking about the flow of traffic being 90, 95, even a little bit more. If you’re in a crash, you’re just not going to survive, even if you wear a seatbelt.” There ya have it. Ya git enough ol’ boys tanked up an’ goin’ 95 er a hunderd on Hahway 130 on them dark Texas nights, an’ soon enough we done caught them dadblame Callyfornians. Whee doggies! Ah’m as excited as a potbellied, long-eared jackalope a’ hoppin’ down a Nacogdoches hedgerow with a six-pack o’… ah, whatever. (adjust hat, hitch up belt, swallow Skoal)

Ah reckon mah only problem is ah cain’t get mah truck to go no faster’n sixty-three. An’ that’s ah goin’ downhill. May have to trade ol’ yeller in. But hey, ah saw on the TV set last night whar it’s Truck Month! Boy howdy, ah’m in luck! Truck Month! (realize just swallowed Skoal, turn green)

 

Ooh, fellers, ah don’ feel so good. Mebbee somethin’ ah et. Ah feel ’bout as poorly as a frosted frog in a cast-iron suit caught in a hay-baling harvester at a Methodist picnic on a July ….

Roger White is a freelance writer living in Austin, Texas, with his lovely wife, two precocious daughters, a very fat dachshund, and a self-absorbed cat. For further adventures, visit oldspouse.wordpress.com.

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