last year we had a farm. a nice farm with a big barn. the community was all farmers. tall big men with literally red necks, overalls, the tall, stiff brimmed bright green john deer hats, and rocky boots. most of them had smile lines around their eyes. their hands were cracked and permanently dirty from the years of working in good, black, ohio dirt. they were men who knew how to work. men who knew suffering and inconsistences.
they also knew where to get a good breakfast. marcy's diner.
marcy was a town that sported a diner, a 2-way stop and a baptist church on the corner. if you blinked you missed marcy, and the best greasy spoon in the whole world. it was one of those places where the cigarette smoke was so thick that you could literally run in there and run back out and smell like grease and cigarette smoke all day. but they had the biggest, the best, and the heartiest breakfasts on that side of the ohio river for $2.95.
the clientele are all farmers. in their usual garb, chatting away about grain prices, best breed of cattle, and the farmers almanac for the month. dad and i would go to marcy's for breakfast about once a month, sometimes more sometimes less. when we would pull up in our white 1998 volvo we would be sorely out of place. i would look too conspicuous because i was the only one in the place who had showered.
my family lived in the area for nine years. people at marcy's knew us by our first names, but we were forever the "city slickers" because we had a white volvo and a 1995 ford winstar. that threw us out of the loop.
so how does one adapt? how does one fit it with the farmers. i found that the key was a red, diesel, heavy duty truck. every car parked in that lot was a red pickup truck.
i developed a love for trucks. diesel trucks. every time we would come to a stop light and would be in front of or behind one, i would roll down my window and just listen to the beautiful sound of a diesel engine.
yesterday i was in my car and i felt the ground shake turned to my left and saw the most beautiful diesel truck sitting next to me. the idling engine of a diesel truck is my most favorite sound in the world. and every time i hear it, i just have to smile and think of those farmers back in ohio.Posted by hill at February 19, 2004 09:34 AM