And he said, "have you got a 4 wheel drive?"

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avalancher

Arboristsite Raconteur
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I should have know better, I really should have. The moment the question pops up of, "have you got a 4 wheel drive?" My first words are generally of ingniation with a touch of irritation, and I generally reply, "well, of coarse I got a 4 wheel drive!". After all, any self respecting wood cuttin fool is going to get himself in enough trouble to make Henry Ford roll over in his grave without one. Heck, I reckon I would probably be safer without one know that I think about it.

But in retrospect, my answer really should have been, "well, why would I need a 4 wheel drive to deliver you wood?Where the heck do you live, in Alaska or something?After all,its only November!" But being the mildly retarded wood cutting fool that I am, I simply said, "yeah, I got you covered if its a little slippery out there." and left it at that. And being a desperate wood customer in search of a good wood guy, he left it at that. After filling me in on his location complete with landmarks that included, "turn left at the herd of goats, go maybe six to eleven miles past the pond that is dried up, and hang a right at the red or blue mailbox. I am up at the top of the hill.

It was a bright and sunny day, and as I sauntered down the road, I was cussing myself for not getting around to replacing that drivers side mirror that an evil elm had decided to remove from my door the previous evening. The dog had amused herself while I was quarelling with the curb store owner over the price hike in beef jerky by chewing off my rear view mirror, leaving me with the lone passenger side mirror, and I have to tell you driving that way makes me a little nervous. You simply cant see when chunks of firewood are falling out the back, and I generally like to pull over and take a side street if more than 15 pieces hit the ground before I get out of town. No sense in having a trail along behind you when you are driving seeing as how I owe the feed store $35 for backing into their door the other day.

Now, I must confess something at this point. I do have a GPS unit, and have used it occasionally. But to be honest with you, that sexy little italian gal that made that recorded voice is rather distracting, and I have to admit that on more than one occasion I have circled the block six times just to hear her say, "recalculating...recalculating...recalculating...Avalancher, you are the sexiest guy ever, recalculating..." So anytime I am driving in areas that require a steady hand, concentration, and doesnt have any city blocks to circle around, I just use my vast knowledge of the area. All of which can be probably written out on the back of a walmart receipt. In fact, that is where I keep it. And this day was one of those days. Sheer mountain drop offs, steep hills to climb, and not a single city block to be found anywhere. Going on instinct, my trusty walmart receipt, and a map drawn my Lewis and Clark I headed to the hills to make my delivery.


I never did find the goat herd, the pond was full of water, and the mailbox was actually green, but the address was the same as what he gave me, so dropping into low, I pulled off the highway,passed a few abandoned cars sitting along the ditch, and found myself meandering along a trail that was far better suited to a squadron of squirrels rather than a pick up truck. But seeing as there were a few wheel tracks that were later identified as bicycle wheels, I figured that eventually this road must lead to the guys house. But as I began my accent, I truly wondered how in the heck anyone managed to climb the hill with a car, much less a truck full of firewood.

As I climbed, I realized that indeed the reason he asked about a four wheel drive was not because of mud, but because of the steepness of the hill, and I truly wondered why in the heck anyone would want to live on such a hill. After all, who in the heck drives a Sherman tank just to get home? Guess this guy did. And then the real trouble started. Rounding the bend in the road, I was hardly prepared for the herd of goats that occupied the road, and with a heaving sigh of despair, I ploughed right into the little suckers.

Now, I dont know about you, but I learned as a young lass that when driving on slippery roads, ploughing through mud, or climbing hills, as long as you are moving you just keep your foot on the gas until are either clear of the trouble, but the goats really posed a problem, I harldy wanted to run over em, but I knew dang well that if I stopped there was no dang way I was ever going to get going again, and backing down the hill without any mirrors was out of the question. With a cringe, I kept my foot down, and prayed that one way or another them goats would find themselves out of the way one way or another.

Coming around a bend, to my relief there was a flat spot in the road and with screeching brakes I stopped the truck and hopped out to view the carnage. Peering under the truck, I found to my relief that there wasnt a critter in sight but as I walked back around the bend, to my horror was a single goat dead on the road. It was time to own up to my mistakes, and with a groan I loaded the single dead goat in the back seat of my truck much to the interest of my dog.

I realized that at that point I had to contact the owner and ask about this road, it in fact looked like it only got worse from here on up, but without a single bar on the cell phone I realized that indeed I had little choice but to keep heading on up the hill in the hopes of finding a turn around spot. And climb we did. Over boulders the size of pumpkins, gulleys that looked like the grand canyon, we proceeded on up. And just as I thought my truck, me, or the dog couldnt take any more, I spotted the house.
 
It was with a sigh of relief when I pulled up to that house, if you could call it that, and as I wearily crawled out of the cab and let all the sweat drain out of the floorboards, I heard a faint, "what the hell is that?" come from the house, accompanied with a startled face in the window. As I leaned over the hood to get some feeling back in my legs, an elderly guy came down the steps with a shocked look on his face,peered out from under his wide brim hat, and cut loose with a "what the hell are you doing up here?"Great. Just great. Not only had I climbed Mount Everest with a load of firewood, I was at the wrong house. And had killed his goat in the process. As I dug around in my pocket for my notebook so that I could record "the worst day in my life", all hell broke loose in the truck.

Yanking the door open, I found my lab in the process of explaining to the dead goat in dog language that goats were not allowed in the truck, and that dead or alive it really should leave the premises at once. As I leaned over to calm the old gal, the man leaned over, looked through the window, and busting out l with a whoop, he called up the steps and said, "Momma, you got to see this!"

Leaning over with hands on his knees, he began a low sobbing noise, and I realized immediatly that the goat must mean a lot to him. Must be a family pet or something, and I felt simply awful. As I patted him on the back, I told the grieving old man that I was sorry, that it was an accident, that I really didnt mean to kill his goat. And the noise just got worse. As his wife came down the steps, I realized that if I didnt do something to make this right, I would probably be dead before sundown, these mountain folks dont mess around much.As she gazed into the truck, I saw the corners of her mouth crinkle up, and as she gazed upon her husband who was at that point almost on his knees making some of the worst noises I have ever heard from a human being, she looked at me with a smile and said, "thank you sir."

Thank you sir? Are all these mountain folks crazy?I kill your goat, practically kill your husband with grief, and you are thanking me?How about if I run over there and strangle that chicken? Maybe I will get a big tip out of the deal! And just as I figured I would be safest climbing in the truck and taking my chances with that friggin hill, the old man righted himself up, leaned over the hood, and let out a whoo-eh! Well son of a gun, the old man was laughing!

As the old man tried to compose himself, his wife explained that indeed he was laughing, and she hadnt heard him laugh that much since he was diagnosed with cancer two years ago, and it sure made her heart feel good to see him laugh again. But I still couldnt figure out what the hell they were laughing about! The friggin goat was dead,and they were laughing. Seeing the perplexed look on my face, the man leaned into the truck, removed the goat, and layed him out on the ground, all the while explaining that it was a "fainting goat" and that most likely had just keeled over at the sudden sight of the truck. And dang it all, ten minutes later that goat got right up and walked off.

Then the old man explained the rest of the story. He never anticipated that I would deliver the wood to the house, it was considered inaccessible by vehicle, and that everything they owned was hauled back and forth up the hill with a tractor and a small trailer. In fact, he told me that as far as he knew I was the first to ever get up there in anything but a tractor. He figured that when I pulled off the highway I would call and he would meet me at the bottom of the hill in the tractor,and haul the wood up himself.

I spent the rest of the afternoon with those folks, mostly because I was very curious about their little cabin up on that hill, but partly I was in no hurry to try that friggin hill again!

Dennis and Pauline, thanks again for a memorable experience!
 
Here are a few pics of the place

The cabin with my truck in the background after off loading

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A little further back
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Great story. Thanks for sharing. My sister has three of those fainting goats. They are such a hoot to watch. I get to feed them when she goes away. Sometimes they faint because they get so excited at feeding time.
 
That's a great story. I laughed so hard it hurts. I would have never thought about a fainting goat. I actually ran over a boar goat myself one time in a dodge dakota similar to yours. :hmm3grin2orange:
 
great story. as i was reading i was expecting you to say the guy was laughing because the goat got back up and was trying to breed the dog in the cab of the truck.....lol lmao:hmm3grin2orange::hmm3grin2orange:
 
Great story! Thanks for sharing. The wife has wanted one of those goats for a while now. I keep telling her that we live in the city, and that she's nuts, but that gets me nowhere fast.
 
Dad Gum flat landers!!!!

We have roads so steep and narrow (over 10,000' elevation) that the stripes are painted with the narrow edge up!!

You deliver to Utah?

Great post and story, for a "flat lander"!!

Kevin
 
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