Wrinkly Bits
A Blog by Gail Cushman
“Hey, Honey Bunch, comb your hair and grab your purse, we’re going shopping.” These are words I don’t hear too often, but are oh, so welcome. Living in a town of 2,000 in Montana has its challenges, and one of those is clothes shopping. Billings is about 40 miles away, and does pretty well to appease my need to buy new clothes, but usually when we head out, we are going to Sam’s Club (not a clothing mecca) or to Lowe’s (their complete clothing line is in the paint section, aprons, masks, and caps) or to a doctor for a review of some recent ailment. So, my clothing budget is safe on our trips to Billings.
We hopped (as much as old people can hop) into the truck and off we went. I asked, “Where are we going today? Dillard’s? Scheels? One of those cute little boutiques with Montana classic clothing (that means Levi’s and western shirts)? I can’t wait, but, hold on, I thought you said that you were working on the trailer today.”
“We are.” Uh, oh, another “we.” He looked at me and smiled. Well, maybe more of a grin edging on mischievous.
We have a 50-year-old trailer that reminds me of my 78-year-old body. It groans when it moves and all four tires sag and limp. It occasionally screeches like an owl and the wooden platform has seen better days. The Cowboy has been working on it, hoping he can revive its youth. He oiled the wood with linseed oil, which made it look better. He removed all the tires and replaced a bunch of parts, (I’m not sure what they are, just metal things, bolts and washers, I think, but maybe not). The bolts were completely rusted shut, he handed me a hose and said, “Stand there, and if the something catches on fire, spray it. That’s your most important job today.” Oh, great I’m in charge of not burning the house down. I was puzzled until he lit a blow torch and sparks blew all over the garage. Like fireworks on the 4th of July. Luckily, nothing caught on fire. Good job, Mrs. Cowboy.
He answered my question, “Nope, guess again. Remember, we just got back from Boise and you bought some new duds there, so we are headed somewhere different. It’s a surprise.”
I was thinking, “Uh, oh, that sounds like Tractor Supply.” Don’t get me wrong, Tractor Supply is a fine store and I usually enjoy our visits. It has a little bit of everything including ice cream.
“Trailer parts. We need trailer parts,” he announced as we pulled into a store that sells only trailer parts. I didn’t even know there was such a store, but there it was a store filled with switches and wrenches and bolts and snaps and brakes and braces. It had a whole aisle of tie-downs/bungee cords in all colors. It was a trailer parts mecca. One never knows when you’ll need a new trailer hitch or new bearings. It’s been in business since 1913. But no ice cream, food, or clothing, not even trucker caps.
We got most of the Cowboy’s list. (I taught him how to make shopping lists!)
