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!

[Michael Anyanwu]

Wicked, wicked story with a strong sense of karma rolling through it. Not sure if this was fictional or drawn from true-to-life experience but it was an excellent read nonetheless. You have a writing style that's vivid and free flowing.

I was drawn in comfortably and could actually visualize fishing at the river like I was actually there myself.

Major props to you for a great story.

[Gordon Greene]

Just desserts.
It doesn't always come the same way, but if you keep dishin' out crap, you eventually eat it.

I really liked the story. Unfortunately, I could relate to some of it.

Good job.
g.g.

[Louis Elliot]

Irony is such a wonderful thing. Nicely put together and told.

[Kara Emily Krantz]

"It was exciting for us boys riding through that hog lot watching those big mean suckers, it was just like Lion Country Safari or something. "

that made me laugh. what an image


"I was sure it was going to stand up and walk right out of that pond and say �howdy�, that�s how big it was."

another great line.


you really captured your experience... this is quite well done. the descriptions were great, and the narrative was through your youthful eyes back when you were that boy, which was great. and the moral... well, the moral was great. not that it helped you or anything, but definitely one of those retributions that make you smile.

great job with this.

[Crystal]

A modern day parable, yes! This is a fantastic story. It was very descriptive and it carried me easily through to the end. I love love love the moral and the fact that he got what he deserved. I know that the "won't" instead of "weren't" is probably a dialect thing, but the dialect isn't that strong throughout the rest of it. And "Metal was a twisting "... again, the "a" is only necessary for dialect and because it isn't as strong throughout, some may not get that. "So off we go down the road"... your tense here does not match the rest and you have a few grammer issues throughout. Also, when you use the dialogue, it should start a new paragraph. And now that I've picked it apart, let me reitterate how much I love the story itself. I would love to see more dialogue, but that's just me. Loved it Mr. O'Neal!

[Keith Dixon]

Nice story, T (your name's got to be Travis, right, or Tommy? ;-) )

It moved right along and created a sense of place and character really quickly.

A couple of things might have helped it for me:

a) what was so important about going to Uncle Wilburn's pond? The way you say 'We were just bait so he could into that pond' - as though there's something really important about getting there. Was he getting back at his ex-wife, our hero's mom? Or is it something else.

b) I'd have liked the moral of the story to be pointed up a little more, if there was one. At the moment, two things are going on: 1/ the dad's pride and joy is destroyed, so more fool him for investing so much love in it; 2/ the narrator loses his education fund - so who exactly is the joke on? I think we could have spent a bit longer with the dad when he's trying to stop the hogs ruining the car - then he could sit behind the driving wheel almost crying, perhaps, but looking dejected - maybe saying something about the kids' mom, trying to get his own back. Maybe he has an argument with the kids on the way home ... and the narrator wins the argument. Then when it comes out about the education fund having gone into the car, it's even more ironic.

It's a nicely told story, but at the moment it's obviously a memory recalled rather than becoming what it could really become. But well written and characterised. Well done!

Keith

[Kevin Connolly]

What a well-deserved comeuppance. Dad got just what he deserved - although not bad enough."He had to have something that was his pride and joy, because it damn sure wasn�t us.""It would probably been easier on him if the hogs were after us" - I'm sure he would have preferred that. And then you say he cashed in your college fund for the pick-up? What a git!Good story.

[Roger F Aucoin]

Good write, T. Too bad your education money went to your dad's education. I wonder if he learnt anything?

Anyways, some punctuation needs fixing. Also, twice you use 'won't' where I think you want 'weren't' - "they won�t leaving" and "and they won�t ready" - but maybe it's a dialect thing.

[Otto L.n. Pipgras]

Good story, T. I liked this one a lot. Has a very authentic down-home feel. Sweet justice too. Another great story, T. keep em comin !

[E]

i love the word "disposition". i read it in o'conner a lot, i think it's a very southern word. i also like the word "yonder".

anyway, enough bout me and my word likings :)

i liked this one!!! i haven't read a single story by you that i DIDN'T like, but this one had me tee-hee'ing and smirking the whole time, cause i just knew those hogs were gonna do SOMETHING. i had a friend that lived near this funny forest area that had wild hogs in it, and those things scared the bejebus outa me. her dad used to have allll these tires stacked around the yard like mountains, and one day 3 or 4 hogs came tearing thru, and tore aaaall the tires to shreads, it was insane.

but yes yes yes love it :)