Don't Hog the Truck

True story about a fishing trip with dear old Dad.

Don’t Hog the Truck

Written by T. L. O’Neal

 

     Years ago probably around 1973 after Mom and Dad split-up, Mom and us boys were back living in North Carolina again. We were living in the old tenant house of Grandma’s out in the country. It was an old drafty and cold house in the winter and an oven in the summertime. We hardly ever heard from Dad, of course that wasn’t anything new.

 

   When we were living in Texas before moving here, we never really saw him then either. They were supposed to still be together but he never came home but once a week. It was on Sundays when he would drag himself in with a hangover and a week’s worth of laundry and would go to bed all day to sleep it off. On occasion he would get up and yell at us or walk through in his boxers while scratching himself on the way to the bathroom; a real role model for us boys. He always seemed to care more for his s****y girlfriends and drinking buddies than he ever did for any of us. I guess he probably should of adopted them because he sure wasn’t a father to us. But maybe he was a father figure to all of his buddies but I seriously doubt it, he was the same old drunk around them as he was around us, just nicer I would think. Some people just shouldn’t have kids. I’m not saying that he was a bad father… well, yes I am I guess. Around here you would say that he was piss-poor at it. He just never tried or just didn’t give a s**t, but I’m inclined to think it was a combination of both.

 

   Anyhow, he moved back to North Carolina later on after he retired from the Air Force. Then one day he showed up out of the blue in this brand spanking new, full-size, red & white, Chevrolet pick-up truck. I don’t know where he got it but he sure was riding in style that day. This thing had it all, chromed out, with air, the whole nine yards. I bet he was lucky to get six or seven miles to the gallon on that thing; not that it would really matter because he thought of himself as Mr. Big Stuff. You could see it in his eyes the pride that he had for that shiny new truck. It was a wonder to hold because we never saw that look before, not where we were concerned anyways. We usually always just saw the bad side of him if we ever saw him at all.

 

He came up to us and said to us boys, ”Boys, how would you like to go fishing?”

 

This seemed out of place, but we were up to the challenge for sure.

 

“Sure” we said, “Where are we going?”

“I thought we could go to Uncle Wilburn’s.” was his reply.

 

   Not knowing it then but knowing it now, we were just going to be bait for he could get into that crackerjack pond of Uncle Wilburn’s, being that Uncle Wilburn was Mama’s older brother. Since he was on the outs with Mama’s family after all he did and how he treated her, he really needed us to get back in good graces so to speak. So we got our stuff together and piled into the new, shiny truck that was his all consuming pride and joy. He had to have something that was his pride and joy because it damn sure wasn’t us.

 

“Be careful with the upholstery, be careful with this and that.” He sure was anal about that truck.

 

      So off we all go down the road towards Uncle Wilburn’s house. When we got there, he told us to stay in the truck while he went and talked to Uncle Wilburn. I can just imagine what he said too, how he was trying to be a good father and take his boys fishing and spend some quality time with us. That was a load of bull if there ever was any. Anyways, it must have worked because he got the keys to the gate because here we went again, this time down the old path. When we got to the gate, He unlocked it and drove through it and locked it back once we were through it with little fanfare. As he drove down that path looking all stoic and all, he must of felt like he owned the place. Now this old path cut right through Uncle Wilburn’s hog lot. He had a bunch of hogs too, not your run of the mill ones either. I’m talking about those big, hairy ones with the big teeth and the mean disposition. It was exciting for us boys riding through that hog lot too, watching those big mean suckers, it was just like Lion Country Safari or something to us. We didn’t get out that much you know.

 

    We made it to the end of the hog lot and the pond was just through the woods. While Dad shooed away the hogs as best as he could, we unloaded our stuff and headed through the woods to the pond as fast as we could. We made it to the pond and it was a huge and muddy hole of a place, it was a neat pond to our young eyes. So, we got what meager fishing equipment out that we had and started fishing. Dad was over there standing tall looked like he was a professional angler or something; he looked just like he was one of those guys on the cover of “Field and Stream” magazine. We were catching a bream here and yonder, a catfish or two, and we were having a pretty good ole time at it. When all of a sudden, Mark; he couldn’t have been more than six, hangs this big old grass carp and on a cane pole too. That old fish was bigger than my brother was then and it was a pretty shade of gold and just as shiny as that new truck on the other side of those trees to boot.

 

    Now he was fighting that fish as best as he could and it was so big that its back was sticking out of the water. I was sure it was going to stand up and walk right out of that pond and say “howdy,” that’s just how big it was. He was a fighting it and I could tell his little nerves were just about shot when that carp finally snapped that line, shook it’s tail as to wave goodbye and was gone. Mark was spent, we all were but it was mighty fun to watch. A little later it was time to go, so we got our mess together and headed back through the woods to the shiny new Chevrolet pick-up.

 

     As we made our way back through the thick woods, we could hear something that sounded a bit like metal. Dad was ahead of us and in a little while we heard something else, it was Dad cussing with words we haven’t heard in awhile and some we never had. Maybe those were just reserved for use with hogs, I didn’t know for sure because I never did ask him about that. Anyway, we got through the woods and there was the damnest sight I ever saw, those hogs had just about tore off every bit of that shiny chrome on his brand spanking new, red & white, shiny Chevrolet pick-up with all the extras. He tried to get shed of those big ole hairy hogs but they wasn’t leaving till they were good and ready… and they wasn’t ready. They were taking their snouts and rooting those strips of chrome right off of that truck. Metal was twisting and popping off with a metallic crunching sound. Dad looked like he was going to be sick, his pride and joy was being destroyed right before his eyes and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it either. It would of probably been easier on him if the hogs were after us kids but they seemed to have more of a taste for metal that day. Eventually they got bored with their little project and decided to move along being satisfied with a job well done.

 

       We got in the truck while Dad ripped off the remaining chrome that was just hanging on by a thread and he threw in into the bed of the truck. He took us home and no one dared to say a thing, not even me with my smart-a*s mouth. I tell you what, that was a long drive and he dropped us off and didn’t stick around or have that much to say either. It was a long time before we ever heard from him again.

 

    Years later when we were grown and wanted to continue our education, Mama was going to try to get out our college fund that they started years ago for us. Turns out that Dad cashed it in years earlier and that’s where he got the money for that new, shiny pick-up truck of his. It’s ironic I think, that he hogged up our future for a truck and the truck was done in by a bunch of hogs.

 

 

Reviews

[Ron Cole]

Golly, what a story! It's really sad, but, I gotta say, kinda funny also, especially when the reader has developed a good "mad" at your Dad for the way he had behaved at home and the way he treated you guys! That's kinda like some of the stories that we were talking about that would be passed around the fireside at the old Country Stores!! Nice storytellin, TL!

[Donna Jones]

Wow!! this story was awesome!!! I guess it is true what goes around does come around. he tried to be hoggish about the money and spend it on himself and the hogs decided to hog up the truck!!! Dejavu' don't you think?

[J. Duran]

I liked it! Has a very realistic cast of characters.
It's very entertaining and had me readimg it to the end.
Great job!!!
-J. Duran

[Kira Love]

OMG!! I got to the part where he ripped off the remaining chrome and I'm laughing to myself thinking, "Serves 'im right, the b*****d!" Then I got to the part about cashing in the college fund for his pride and joy and that just made it all the better! Fantastic!!! You are an incredible storyteller! Bravo on a great write!!!

[Valerie Jones]

I believe you've gotten plenty of useful suggestions already. I enjoyed the way you presented the story and would pay attention to editing a little bit so that some parts become more clear and easily understood.
The irony intended in the piece was well crafted and you achieved creating the sensation of the reader standing by your side as you went through this. That means your characters felt as real as you portrayed them. Good piece!

[Christopher Tait]

Ha! Nice story. Love the ending. Suggestion: Break up the story more with paragraph breaks, especially with dialogue. It would make the story read and move much quicker. Also, you might wanna go over this one more time. I know the idea behind this was for it to sound like someone speaking it to the reader/listener, but there were some parts where a word or two may have been missing. Good job with this!

[Bluehealer]

Nicely written. After one read, I knew this was a psychological piece... Punctuation aside (see below review, and ignore), I clearly see the meat and potatoes of what you are saying... as a fellow Southerner from Alabama, we aren't as concerned with punctuation - not when there is a good story to tell. Besides, it adds to the local flavor of dialect.
------------------------------

GREAT PIECE!!!!! I enjoyed the Southernality, and the unexpected resolution. My last comment is - DON'T CORRECT THE PUNCTUATION - If the work is understood for your intended meaning, words and hieroglyphics have met there purpose - leave it at that.

Later,

B

[Edmund Jonah]

Hello T.L. - I predict you will be published one day if you continue writing like this and learning a thing or two about short stories. First off, the punch line had very little punch because you did not introduce the college fund at the beginning of the story. Mention it at the start and then forget about it till the end - you have your punch!

"When were living in Texas before moving here, we never saw him then except on Sundays when he would drag himself in with a hangover and a week�s worth of laundry, and go to bed to sleep it off. "
Clumsy sentence, that should be split.
We were living in Texas before moving to (town in N.C.) and we hardly (never is never) saw him there. On Sundays he would etc.

He came up and said to us boys, �Boys, how would you like to go fishing.� This seemed out of place, but we were up to the challenge. �Sure� we said, �Where are we going�. �I thought we could go to uncle Wilburn�s,� was his reply. Not knowing it then, but knowing it now, we were just bait for he could get into that pond, being that uncle Wilburn was mama�s older brother.
Give the reader's eyes a chance and create form, like this:
He came up and said to us boys, �Boys, how would you like to go fishing?�
This seemed out of place, but we were up to the challenge. �Sure.� we said. �Where are we going?�
�I thought we could go to uncle Wilburn�s,� was his reply.
Not knowing it then, but knowing it now, we were just bait. Uncle Wilburn was mama�s older brother and he knew, without us, he could not get into that pond.
NOTE THE PUNCTUATION. YOU HAVE TO USE IT OR YOU CONFUSE THE READER. THE QUOTATION MARKS ALWAYS COME AFTER THE PUNCTUATION.
Also, make your meaning clear. Don't let your reader stop to have to figure out what you are trying to say. Now we know why the boys were bait without having to think about it.

�Be careful with the upholstery, be careful with this and that; he sure was anal about that truck.
You start with quotation marks that are left in the air.
�Be careful with the upholstery." Be careful with this and that; he sure was anal about that truck.

Anyways it must have worked because he got the keys - WHAT KEYS? Again you confuse the reader. Keys to what? He has his own keys for the vehicle.

You certainly caught the spirit of it and the vernacular seems right on the button. It was a good read. Fix up this piece and send it in. I'm sure some magazine will take the bait. Good show!

[Cove Mitchell]

You did a great job with this. Your flow is 100% consistent and your voice so audible. I can't believe he stole that college money! Those hogs were real heros. lol Wish I could have seen them in action! I had a great time reading this story! Awesome work T! Thanks for the entertainment!
Sincerely,
Reth N.

[James]

i enjoyed this story
the dialect is awesome
it keeps me intrigued throughout
i like the fact that you kept it as you remembered
its a memory
thats what makes this so important
it seems you didn't add extra into the story
just the facts... thank you

[Coco Haynie]

I love your stories. Well written.