Roy's beep

Saturday, July 23, 2011

lot of drivers


As I have mentioned I am or was a trucker, you know one of them fallers who drive the big rigs. Eighteen wheels a Rollin, sixty thousand pounds of steel and fright, headed down the highway. Your never home long, always alone, never at rest, just moving down the highway, praying that nothing gets in your way and they make it safely home, However thing do get I the way, from deer’s to trains, and people drives all kinds of vehicles’. Cars, motor cycles, bicycles and recreation vehicles’ all on the highways getting in the way. A trucker gets paid on average twenty eight cents per mile, some more and some less, but to get paid the wheels have to be Rollin.

Controlling one of those big rigs is not the easiest thing I have ever done. They take a quarter mile to stop; they won’t turn around a dime. Someone wrote as song about that called “Give me forty acres and I turn this rig around.” How driving one does have some perks, well you do drink a lot of coffee, and you do see a lot of the country. But the big problem is the traffic you come across. The week drivers of recreation vehicles, you see they don’t know they are big rigs too. They don’t know they can’t stop, or turn on a dime. They don’t know to change lanes or when to pull back into the lane. Now I drove what they call heavy haul, that’s hundred feet long, hundred five thousand pounds, and twenty eight wheels rolling down the road.  The one of the thing that will makes you that orifice down there by your tail bone get real tight and small, is to have some bone head with a truck load of kids, a twenty eight foot trailer, and a twenty four foot boat and trailer, trying to pass on a two lane road.  Their trucks breaks were design to stop the truck and maybe a trailer.

A commercial truck driver has to pass a written test and pass a driving test showing they know rules of the road and how to handle the big rig. Six month and five thousand dollars later they have earn a license to drive a big rig. The fellow that has not gone through the train and only drives a pickup around town is a danger to himself and all on the road when he tows a trailer.  For a big rig truck driver to drag more than one trailer he has to show he knows how and be certified.

It’s past the time that the state laws should be that a person that drives a combination of truck and trailers be required to pass a test and get an endorsement on their license to put a recreation vehicle on the road.


Thank you and god bless
                                                                     

Friday, July 22, 2011

just a lot of re-ride


It has been brought to my attention that some of you may not know a lot about the paraphernalia and accruements that are put on a horses. So I have rewritten the poem and add some educational info. Most people know about the saddle and bridle but there is a lot more. Now the bridle is also called a head stall. Then there is the halter, sometimes called a head collar. Moving down the neck there is the breast plate and the check rein. This arrangement is commonly called a Martingale. The purposes of is to keep the horse from hitting or butting you with his head, keeping his head down and the saddle from sliding back on the horse. Used a lot when jumping a horse or in gymkhana events. 
martingale

Next we have the saddle. Now there are many type of saddles from English to western with a number of ways of riggin. There is another piece of tack that serves to keep the saddle in the right spot on the horse.  Here it the story about that.

Kid Crupper

There are many tails I am told of men brave and bold
Who have rode the wild ponies of old
This is a tail from somewhere on the trail, where kid cruppier found his fame

A shy lad, his lot was not to blame
Hired out to clean the stable to put something on the table
For a dollar a week a place to sleep and some keep, He did sweep

Now down from the hills the wild ponies of the mountain range brought home to tame they came, stallion and mares
Chased by mountain lions, wolves, and bares
Broom tailed nags; cockleburs knotted the same, raised on loco weed, a cowboy’s night mares to ride and tame
Coral gate closed a day to celebrate the round up done, time for some cowboy fun

 Lady and gent upon the fence to see all the bravery hence
The horses I am told could not be controlled by the braves and bold
The kid did appear with his hands on a beer
He loudly boasts of horses he knew the most for all to hear
Now cow folks know when they hear a good boast
 From dappled Philly to the oh that strawberry roan
He knew every line of that old poem
He knew them so well Heck he could tell just by smell alone

Blind folded they led him around the town checking the horses that he could not see what they might be
He kid did say it’s a bay eating barley hay
This wild stallion bay eating some hay they did saddled the wrong way
They led him this way to claim his throne they did say

Settle in the head on the wrong end let him out they did shout
Ride em cowboy that what horses are all about
Well the kid’s legs did flail around the neck like a martin graben’ a quail, his boots tangled in a knot,

That pony did more then trot, well the kid grabs for some main and got a hand full of tail

The pain you could tell he did let out a yell

The horse did the buck and did sprout wings, the kid did yodel it seems was that tally ho or let me go
up and over the fence they did sailed, Headed down the Chisum trail.
Now that not the end
For all cowboys know you saddle a horse with the crupper around the tail end
crupper from back of saddle and around the 
tail

This is my cowboy poetry entry for this year’s contest at the Weber country fair and rodeo
 thank you and god bless

Tuesday, July 19, 2011

the lot of kid Crupper

I ain't Louie La-more but it is cowboy poetry. so have some fun straight from the old barn yard.

Kid Crupper

There are many tails I am told of men brave and bold
Who have rode the wild ponies of old
This is a tail from somewhere on the trail, where kid cruppier found his fame
A shy lad, his lot was not to blame
Hired out to clean the stable
For a dollar a week and some keep
 He did sweep
Now down from the hill the wild ponies of the mountain range, stallion and mares
 Chased by mountain lions, wolves, and bares
Broom tailed and cockleburs feed on loco weed, a cowboy’s night mare
A day to celebrate round up done, time for some fun
 Lady and gent upon the fence to see all the bravery hence
The horses I am told could not be controlled by the braves and bold
The kid did appear with his hands on a beer
He loudly boasts of horses he knew the most for all to hear
Now cow folks know when they hear a good boast
 From dapple Philly to strawberry roan
He knew every line of the poem
Heck he could tell just by smell alone
This stallion eating some hay they saddled the wrong way
Blind folded the kid did say it’s a bay eating barley hay
They led him this way to his throne they did say
Settle in the head on the wrong end let him out they did shout
Ride em cowboy that what horses are all about
Well the kids legs did flail around the neck his boots did lock he grab the tail
Up and over the fence they did sail
Head down the Chisum trail now that not the end
For all cowboys know to saddle a horse with the crupper around the tail end
   thank you and god bless

Lot of Cake


Now some of you may have seen or heard me say” don’t eat the cake it makes you old”. Well the truth is that I don’t eat cake, never have, I just don’t like the taste or texture of it.  I have read some post here lately about how we have lost things and how we could not live or at least be very unhappy with the world if we lost something.

Someone very close to me has lost something. Every minute she losses something else, and there is no putting it back. We can look for it, but if we fine it we cannot put it back.  She is my wife and she has Alzheimer’s, what she has lost are memories. She was going though some things she was given years ago, things that have a special meaning and memories. She would ask me where they came from, or who was in the picture. One of the pictures was of our children when they were eight and five years old, she had to ask if it was a picture of our kids. The greatest loss you can have is to lose your memories, for them to just not exist. As we live we build memories and they form our identity of who we are. How many of you remember Ogg, not many I bet, because he never existed.  That’s a lost memory.  For someone with Alzheimer’s this is their life.

We spend our whole life looking for something that is behind us misplace somewhere in the past. We look for things that are hidden from our view. Sometimes we are so focus on the thing that we don’t see it till it is in the past. There are a lot of thing we look for you cannot put on a shelf or in a storage locker. We start out this life looking, trying to find what life is, who we are, what we mean to the world. We look to be happy, we look to be loved, and too love.

You see no one can make you be or do anything; it’s up to you to do that. If you want to be happy, it’s up to you to be happy, if you want to be loved it’s up to you too love who you are. That is something no one can do for you. No one can think for you, and you cannot think for anyone else. No matter how much you love someone, if they don’t love their self they cannot love you back.  How many of you would take a mean rabid dog into your home to love. It is not capable of returning that love. We can feel sorry for the dog, sorrow is not love. The dog will only be able to give you sorrow.  If we take some into our life that does not love their self, it is like taking that rabid dog in to our home. They will bite the hand that feeds they.

 keep you memories safe and love who you are.so you can love the world. thank you and god bless

Monday, July 18, 2011

lot of down town

Went down town last Saturday night
All the people going to and fro
Quite a jam with all those cars stuck in a row
I will move the herd if they will stay to the right
Now them people just thing I am a clown
For bring my herd up town
But don’t you see they follow me.
Hey fellar don’t honk that horn
That bull’s are bigger than yours
Some fellar said that’s a horse
I said of course I wouldn’t ride the cow
He must think I’m some kind of fool any how
He said next time ride the bus
I said you must be crazy they will make a fuss
Who ever heard of cows on a bus?
Besides that my saddle won’t fit on that cuss
Now them ladies giggle and smile
And I tip my hat in gentlemanly style
It all seems a bit strange
With all them new fangled things
Sure not like home on the range
Now I all most shot that fellar
When he drew that thing from his belt
But I saw I had nothing to fear
He stuck it in his ear
Will I guess I best round up them cows?
And mosses on out of here
Do wish I could have found a beer

Thank you and god bless




Sunday, July 17, 2011

morning till dawn


From morning till dawn

I heard the song of a whippoorwill
My heart it did thrill
I saw the flight of a morning dove
Heard its cooing song of love

Saw Loon and swan gliding on the pond
A doe deer and fawn greeting the dawn
A meadow lark trills melodies of blue bells and honey bees
The mocking bird sits his perch for all to see and conduct the symphony

Rosters and crows crack the whip
Sweat rolls down a cooling drip
It’s such a pretty day
To be working in a field of hay

Now the moon should be rising soon
The coyote sings his lonesome tune
The owl’s watchful eyes
Trace the stars across the sky

Thank god a cowboy day is never done
 Thank you and god bless





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