APRIL 07, 2021

I wrote this as a letter to my pops in the early ’80’s.

He had recently retired and was a bit down in the dumps. In California he had invented a variety of pieces of equipment, including a large warehouse-installed grain cleaner, the first ever trucker’s belt-roller (which I still have) and the hopper-bottom grain trailer, still in use today. He loved to tinker with metal. But the farmers and folks in his retirement state of South Dakota just figured he was a privileged asswipe from California and shunned his offer of free help. It drove him crazy not to get back out into the shop and face interesting challenges.

He had hauled lumber for many years and since his rigs were always painted “John Deere green” (not your most creative option in some regards, although he had his reasons and quirky sense of humor to back them up)  ..he always called his favorite, “the ‘Ol Green Horse.”

Pops loved to swim. At lunch during the summer months he’d pull over at one of his favorite holes, 65′ rig perched precariously over a dirt pullout barely big enough for a passenger car. Change from his coveralls into his swim trunks and snake his way down the embankment past the, “Dangerous Undertow” warnings and then, donning snorkel, mask and fins cruise the underwater cutbacks visiting his buddies the trout.

When I returned home from the military I offered mom and pops time off to vacation while I handled the hauling. The third morning out, after starting down the canyon just before sunup, sipping my tea and thanking my lucky stars to be living such a life, I rolled the fully loaded 65’ semi, that he and I had hand-built, over a bridge spanning the Feather River at Rock Creek.

The over-turned semi and scattered load, blocking the only way in, or out, of the canyon for several hours drew quite a “captive” audience. His fellow canyon truckers, who had seen him everyday for years, assumed it was him, buried somewhere under the wreckage.

I have nothing but respect for the truckers and bus drivers that run that canyon every day, “..in the snow and the rocks and the wind.”

This is for them as much as it is for Pops.

“There’s talk of a silver-haired ‘ol daddy
Runs this canyon most ever’ day
‘Got himself an ‘Ol Green Horse
‘Least that’s what the truckers say

I hung inside the ‘Ol Green Horse
Upside down and in a heap
Danglin’ from a little bridge
Our load spread across the creek

The voice I heard spoke shaky and low
Says he feared I might be dead
“You OK, ya’ll all right?”
“..Yeeeah,” Was all I said

We spent all morning beside that wreck
Me and the CHP
The tourists, the kids and the looky-lous
Why I’d be rich if I’d charged a fee
For a look at the blood and guts of the man
That’s all they came to see

But I began to notice, huddled up
A certain group of men
Who’d risked their lives in the canyon before
In the snow and the rocks and the wind

One by one they’d make their way
With a look sad but serious it seemed
They’d wait their turn, To pay their respects
To the silver-haired driver they’d seen

“No he ain’t dead” said the CHP
As he nodded and looked my way
There’s the lucky son of a gun
That rode that wreck today

“Well look at that, and not a scratch
Cheer up son, you’ll get another rig, you’ll see”
“No” I said, “that ol’ horse we built by hand,
That ‘ol man and me”

One said, “Hey I know your daddy son he helped me fix a flat”
Another one said, “Idn’t he the silvur-haired gent wores the Stetson hat?”
“Yeah,” said a short one with whiskers and a grin
“And I seen him once wearin’ a mask and fins!”

We all felt better as I laughed a little through my tears
And that dusty bunch of drivers, I’ve remembered all these years
I shook their hands and thanked them, for being kind to me
The short one said, “One day son, you’ll do the same ..You’ll see.”

You know I’ve never seen the canyon since that day so long ago
I just came across the pi’tures
And remembering
Thought you might like to know

That there’s talk, so goes the legend
The ‘Ol Green Horse
She runs it still
Haulin’ loads of lumber, from a shut-down cedar mill

And the truckers say, if your broke down late
In the snow, beside the road
It’s comin’ down hard
Your in a fix, someone’s dependin’ on your load

You might just meet the ‘Ol Green Mare and rider
Or so I’m told
They’ll pour you a cup of Mom’s hot coffee
Get you warmed up and out of the cold

And when you stir from your dreamy sleep
And find yourself home snug in bed
Your rig parked out front, fueled and washed
But you don’t know how, or when

And your boss calls up just to thank ya
Now how about that!
You think, “Man I just had the strangest dream”
…’Til he asks about the gent, in the Stetson hat

Yeah, there’s talk of a silver-haired ‘ol daddy
Runs this canyon most ever’ day
‘Got himself an ‘Ol Green Horse
…’Least that’s what the truckers say”

We love you Pops,

twilight