Cliff's brother has a restored '56 Mercury, and he found a good buy on a "parts car". He asked Cliff to go with him, with our pickup and trailor, to pick it up (near Jefferson City). Because I'm rather bored, sidelined from my job as I am, I went along. It crowded us a bit, and because my knee won't bend well, Phil had to sit "on the hump". But it got me out of the house. I'm learning to take the digital camera everywhere I go, and I snapped a few shots of them loading the hunk of junk Phil bought.
With the help of two tractors, they got the thing loaded.
Of course there was lots of conversation going on: Cliff had to discuss all the virtues of John Deere tractors with the old farmer who helped them load the car, and Phil discussed classic cars with the farmer's son, so I passed part of the time finishing the George Jones autobiography, "I Lived To Tell It All" (I really don't recommend the book, it's just one story after another of whiskey- and cocaine-induced brawls among country singers).
I got inspiration for a poem too, but I'll make that my next entry.
The man came Friday to check on my Don-Joy brace and see why it wasn't working out for me. He thinks they made it wrong, either from improper instructions from the doctor, or perhaps misunderstanding her instructions. He was going to check this out and let me know in the upcoming few days. I'll try and keep everyone posted, although I do not intend to dwell on my problems in this journal. I know there are lessons to be learned in all of this.