I love it when girls pick me up.

[ChicoHarris]

Black Frank, my beloved old truck, is on hiatus. My five dogs at my house out in the county have no concern about the rolling status of Black Frank, their only concern is getting food in their bowl, fresh water in their other bowl and a human face they are allowed to lick. I could help them with all three desires.

So, yesterday morning I filled my backpack with dog food and struck out that way, hitch-hiking home to feed my dogs, Herman, Ringo, DOG, Hot Dog and Slaw Dog.

I was just a few blocks off the square when I scored my first ride: a young clean cut Republican picked me up and carried me almost to the Single-Seven highway, and regaled me all the way with his story about recently seeing Elvis Costello and the Sugarcanes at MerleFest in North Carolina. I walked the last four or five blocks to the Single-Seven and, once there, turned in the direction of my dogs.

I walked down the side of the Single-Seven, my backpack laden with dog food and my "EAST" sign held out. After about about a mile and a half, right when the sun was starting to scorch, an old truck pulled off the Single-Seven about 50 yards ahead and the pretty girl in the passenger seat was waving come on, whilst she crawled over said seat into the small back seat/compartment. I could hear her and another girl laughing.

The truck appeared to have seen better days, and they were all in the early Clinton years. The driver and passenger surprised me, though. Living around Oxford and Ole Miss, one gets used to seeing beautiful girls everywhere. These two, though, went above and beyond the call of duty with an honest beauty that lit up the inside of their old ride. They wore no make-up, had dazzling smiles and seemed about 23 years old. Something else was also evident: they were what some people would call rednecks but were actually just hardcore country folk.

"Git in, git in! How yew doin'?" asked the prettiest, the one who crawled over the seat into the back to make room for me. I don't think I've ever seen anything as pretty as her eyes.

They asked what most who pick me up do, except they asked it this way: "Where yew goin,' walkin' down this here road?"

Before I could answer, gorgeous in the backseat said, "We not worried about you robbing us 'caus we ain't got nothing for yew to git!"

And then they both erupted in the most honest and joyous laughter I think I've ever heard. I wasn't sure I didn't just want to go wherever they were going.

"Where are you girls going?"

"We goin' home" said one and "We live down at Paris," said the other.

Ah, Paris, the little bitty community down in the far southeast corner of the county.

"You know what's bad," I said, "is that I've been to Paris, France, three times and Paris, Mississippi, only once, to eat at that catfish place there."

They again erupted in that laughter and I thought maybe they were high, but no, they were just happy people. They were not thinking about bailouts and oil slicks and wars, they were just happy, alive, and enjoying the beautiful day.

"Yew not from around here, are ya?" asked the one in the back seat, and I was glad, because it gave me an excuse to look back there.

"Yeah, I'm from around here. I'm just not cool enough to have been to Paris, Mississippi, more than once."

"That catfish is good, ain't it?" she asked and then from the driver: "Yeah, ain't that catfish good?"

I affirmed and the driver asked, "Well where yew goin'?"

"Going home," I said. "Got to feed my five dogs."

"FIVE dogs?" asked the driver. "Yew got five dogs? Lorrrd, that's more than I could handle. Oh, lord!"

"What are their names," asked her friend.

"Herman, Ringo, DOG, Hot Dog and Slaw Dog." I answered. I started to tell them how DOG's name was actually Death Or Glory and that I just call him by his initials, but decided not to go there.

"Hot Dog!" said the driver. "Yew got a dog named Hot Dog?"

"And Slaw Dog!" came from the backseat. "Yew got one named Slaw Dog?"

I affirmed and they exploded into laughter.

After enjoying that laughter, I told them I needed to get out down at Favre-Manning Road and I would hitch home from there. The driver looked at me quizzically.

"I done been around here all my life," she said, "an' I ain't NEVER heard of no Favre-Manning Road!"

"Well," I said, "Most people call it Fudgetown Road."

"Shoot, I know where Fudgetown Road is! But what was you calling it?"

"You know, officially, it's County Road 418, but I call it Favre-Manning road because Brett Favre wears number four and Archie Manning wore number 18."

There was silence for a moment. Then, the driver asked me:

"You like Archie Manning?"

I thought it was a silly question and wished the backseat passenger had asked it.

"Yeah, of course... I love Archie Manning."

From the back seat:
"He didn't do no good in that Super Bowl!"

From the driver:
"No he shore didn't! Not against them Saints!"

From both of them:
"WHO DAT! WHO DAT!"

And then they once again erupted in a roar of laughter that made me wish I knew jokes.

I explained that Archie was father of the Colts' quarterback. They listened and this question came from the back seat:

"You like Ole Miss?"

Before I could say yes, the driver said:

"Well of course he likes Ole Miss, don't you see his shirt?"

The girl in the backseat leaned over the seat and pulled on my shirt as she looked at the front of it. I thought I was going to faint.

We were just then getting to the road I needed. The driver stopped and I started collecting up my backpack and getting out.

"I shore am sorry we can't take yew all the way home but we ain't got that much gas."

"Oh that's cool, y'all have been a big help. I really appreciate it."

I was standing in the open door as Miss Back Seat climbed over and into the front. On her lower right leg, she had a very big Playboy bunny tattoo. It looked home made.

"Hey, I like your tattoo," I lied.

"Thank YEW!" she said. "But look... I fell in a hole yesterday and messed it up."

I looked down and sure enough, there was a gash through the bunny's ears.

"Well it still looks good," I said. "I like it."

"Thank YEW!" She looked at the girl sitting next to her. "He said he likes my tattoo!"

"I reckon I might have to git me one of them," said the driver. They then erupted into that great laughter.

I thanked them again and asked them to pick me up again if they saw me hitching again.

They said they sure would and we said goodbye.

I started walking down Favre-Manning Road and looked back toward them as they pulled up onto the Single-Seven. Just about that time, A deer bounded in front of them across the Single-Seven and into the woods on the other side.

And from their old truck, I heard them erupt into laughter.

[mgsooner]

Is this from Penthouse stories?

[mgsooner]

By far the weirdest "first post" I've ever seen

+1

[garnersound]

Black Frank, my beloved old truck, is on hiatus. My five dogs at my house out in the county have no concern about the rolling status of Black Frank, their only concern is getting food in their bowl, fresh water in their other bowl and a human face they are allowed to lick. I could help them with all three desires.

So, yesterday morning I filled my backpack with dog food and struck out that way, hitch-hiking home to feed my dogs, Herman, Ringo, DOG, Hot Dog and Slaw Dog.

I was just a few blocks off the square when I scored my first ride: a young clean cut Republican picked me up and carried me almost to the Single-Seven highway, and regaled me all the way with his story about recently seeing Elvis Costello and the Sugarcanes at MerleFest in North Carolina. I walked the last four or five blocks to the Single-Seven and, once there, turned in the direction of my dogs.

I walked down the side of the Single-Seven, my backpack laden with dog food and my "EAST" sign held out. After about about a mile and a half, right when the sun was starting to scorch, an old truck pulled off the Single-Seven about 50 yards ahead and the pretty girl in the passenger seat was waving come on, whilst she crawled over said seat into the small back seat/compartment. I could hear her and another girl laughing.

The truck appeared to have seen better days, and they were all in the early Clinton years. The driver and passenger surprised me, though. Living around Oxford and Ole Miss, one gets used to seeing beautiful girls everywhere. These two, though, went above and beyond the call of duty with an honest beauty that lit up the inside of their old ride. They wore no make-up, had dazzling smiles and seemed about 23 years old. Something else was also evident: they were what some people would call rednecks but were actually just hardcore country folk.

"Git in, git in! How yew doin'?" asked the prettiest, the one who crawled over the seat into the back to make room for me. I don't think I've ever seen anything as pretty as her eyes.

They asked what most who pick me up do, except they asked it this way: "Where yew goin,' walkin' down this here road?"

Before I could answer, gorgeous in the backseat said, "We not worried about you robbing us 'caus we ain't got nothing for yew to git!"

And then they both erupted in the most honest and joyous laughter I think I've ever heard. I wasn't sure I didn't just want to go wherever they were going.

"Where are you girls going?"

"We goin' home" said one and "We live down at Paris," said the other.

Ah, Paris, the little bitty community down in the far southeast corner of the county.

"You know what's bad," I said, "is that I've been to Paris, France, three times and Paris, Mississippi, only once, to eat at that catfish place there."

They again erupted in that laughter and I thought maybe they were high, but no, they were just happy people. They were not thinking about bailouts and oil slicks and wars, they were just happy, alive, and enjoying the beautiful day.

"Yew not from around here, are ya?" asked the one in the back seat, and I was glad, because it gave me an excuse to look back there.

"Yeah, I'm from around here. I'm just not cool enough to have been to Paris, Mississippi, more than once."

"That catfish is good, ain't it?" she asked and then from the driver: "Yeah, ain't that catfish good?"

I affirmed and the driver asked, "Well where yew goin'?"

"Going home," I said. "Got to feed my five dogs."

"FIVE dogs?" asked the driver. "Yew got five dogs? Lorrrd, that's more than I could handle. Oh, lord!"

"What are their names," asked her friend.

"Herman, Ringo, DOG, Hot Dog and Slaw Dog." I answered. I started to tell them how DOG's name was actually Death Or Glory and that I just call him by his initials, but decided not to go there.

"Hot Dog!" said the driver. "Yew got a dog named Hot Dog?"

"And Slaw Dog!" came from the backseat. "Yew got one named Slaw Dog?"

I affirmed and they exploded into laughter.

After enjoying that laughter, I told them I needed to get out down at Favre-Manning Road and I would hitch home from there. The driver looked at me quizzically.

"I done been around here all my life," she said, "an' I ain't NEVER heard of no Favre-Manning Road!"

"Well," I said, "Most people call it Fudgetown Road."

"Shoot, I know where Fudgetown Road is! But what was you calling it?"

"You know, officially, it's County Road 418, but I call it Favre-Manning road because Brett Favre wears number four and Archie Manning wore number 18."

There was silence for a moment. Then, the driver asked me:

"You like Archie Manning?"

I thought it was a silly question and wished the backseat passenger had asked it.

"Yeah, of course... I love Archie Manning."

From the back seat:
"He didn't do no good in that Super Bowl!"

From the driver:
"No he shore didn't! Not against them Saints!"

From both of them:
"WHO DAT! WHO DAT!"

And then they once again erupted in a roar of laughter that made me wish I knew jokes.

I explained that Archie was father of the Colts' quarterback. They listened and this question came from the back seat:

"You like Ole Miss?"

Before I could say yes, the driver said:

"Well of course he likes Ole Miss, don't you see his shirt?"

The girl in the backseat leaned over the seat and pulled on my shirt as she looked at the front of it. I thought I was going to faint.

We were just then getting to the road I needed. The driver stopped and I started collecting up my backpack and getting out.

"I shore am sorry we can't take yew all the way home but we ain't got that much gas."

"Oh that's cool, y'all have been a big help. I really appreciate it."

I was standing in the open door as Miss Back Seat climbed over and into the front. On her lower right leg, she had a very big Playboy bunny tattoo. It looked home made.

"Hey, I like your tattoo," I lied.

"Thank YEW!" she said. "But look... I fell in a hole yesterday and messed it up."

I looked down and sure enough, there was a gash through the bunny's ears.

"Well it still looks good," I said. "I like it."

"Thank YEW!" She looked at the girl sitting next to her. "He said he likes my tattoo!"

"I reckon I might have to git me one of them," said the driver. They then erupted into that great laughter.

I thanked them again and asked them to pick me up again if they saw me hitching again.

They said they sure would and we said goodbye.

I started walking down Favre-Manning Road and looked back toward them as they pulled up onto the Single-Seven. Just about that time, A deer bounded in front of them across the Single-Seven and into the woods on the other side.

And from their old truck, I heard them erupt into laughter.

and that's what i like about the south....

mad props to you for doing what you did to do feed your 20 legs.
dogs make people better >

[Tequila Cowboy]

By far the weirdest "first post" I've ever seen

Yes, but I actually liked it.

Besides weird works well around here.

[beantownbubba]

By far the weirdest "first post" I've ever seen

Yes, but I actually liked it.

Besides weird works well around here.

Besides, it's not his first post if u count 9B.

I thought the "penthouse letters" reference got it about right. That's a good thing

[Gator McKlusky]

It started out like a Penthouse Forum letter (or so I have been told) but unfortunately there was no "happy ending."

[cortez the killer]

It started out like a Penthouse Forum letter (or so I have been told) but unfortunately there was no "happy ending."

Truth be told, I like this post/story a lot better because of this. I guess I'm getting soft.

I love the manner ChicoHarris decided to pop his 3DD cherry.

[DeadBro in eastTenn]

Chico's ok by me, been following his stories on the Marah board for years.
One of these days, I'm gonna get down to Oxford and hang with you, bro.

[wrekkr]

you didn't ask for a # ?

[joelle]

i really like this story. a lot
i like the way chicodavis writes.i like it even more becaus ei feel it is true.
i hope it is true. i hope it really happened.
if it did not happen, it is a sweet story.
if it did happen, it is a sweet life. nice words chicoharris.

(* i am real sorry, i do not remeber your name exactly, but i know it is chico and something. like chico and the man, but not.)

[wrekkr]

looking forward to the next story

[ChicoHarris]

Chico's ok by me, been following his stories on the Marah board for years.
One of these days, I'm gonna get down to Oxford and hang with you, bro.

Hey, I just saw this post. You should be in Potts Camp/Oxford a week from today as the North Mississippi Hill Country Picnic gets started at 3pm with Shannon McNally (saw her and band last night at Proud Larrys --- TREMENDOUS) and then that night Marah is at Proud Larrys with Laurie Stirrat and Tyler Keith also playing. Then the next day, back to the Picnic! check out the line-up:
http://hillcountrypicnic.wordpress.com/

[ChicoHarris]

i really like this story. a lot

i hope it is true. i hope it really happened.

if it did happen, it is a sweet life. nice words chicoharris.

(

Oh yeah, that's just the way it happened... those are the easiest kind... just write down what happened! Those girls were some life-lovers.

['Scratch]

Chico,

That was one helluva story.

Thank YEW!