Dealer, I Am All In by cmsix

Chapter 2

And a camping I went. I had a ball, leaving early on Saturday morning and taking half a day to work my way to the backside. It took the rest of the day to set up my tent, build a fire ring, gather firewood and generally get my camp organized.

I finally had to quit when the sun went down so I could cook my first real camping supper. Warm up really, Wolf Brand Chili and Ranch Style Beans, what else? I washed it down with a couple of - cool from sitting in the small stream - Lone Star Long Necks.

Of course I hadn't brought along a portable TV or radio, much less a satellite TV rig, I was camping out. So I was bored shitless after supper until I made myself go to bed around nine PM.

That was my last camping trip with only two mules. Of course I'd brought a lot more crap than I'd needed, but that didn't matter as much as the boredom. If I tried to bring a portable TV and a Satellite system I'd have to leave a hell of a lot of stuff I might need, with only two mules to pack it on.

I toughed it out until Monday morning when I packed up everything and headed back home. One other important lesson I'd learned was to never fork my bronc again without my cell phone. After all, if I'd brought my phone, I could have called the guy in Missori to make sure he had another mule. It would have passed some of the time while I was cooling my heels out in the woods.

As soon as I had my horse and mules put away, I called Missouri. I guess the man knew a sucker after he'd already fucked him once on a mule deal, because he came right to the phone personally after he heard who it was.

Yes, as a matter of fact, he'd traded for another splendid mule since I'd been up there, two in fact. Sure, he'd be glad to hold them until I could come up and take a look at them tomorrow. No, no trouble at all.

I went back out to the barn and put away all the camping gear I'd left lying right where I'd set it when it came off the mules. I fed all my stock, hooked the trailer to my pickup again and hauled my ass back to Missouri.

I hadn't really thought of buying two more mules, since one would be more than able to carry the Satelite Dish and a portable TV. What the hell, I didn't want to have to go right back up there for another one when I ran across something else I just couldn't bear to be without while I was roughing it. So I'd made up my mind to buy both mules before I even got there, as long as they were a good deal, you understand.

Not twenty miles north of Conway Arkansas I got a speeding ticket. I'd halfway noticed a car coming south flashing his headlights at me, but I put him down as an idiot. Abnormally, the officer was pretty friendly while writing my ticket.

"Man, am I glad you came along. All the guys that live around here have CB radios and it makes it tough to write a good ticket with them telling each other where I am. Hell, I'm surprised someone didn't flash their lights to let you know where I was hiding," he said.

"No officer, I didn't have a bit of warning. I guess I should be more careful to make sure and obey the law," I said.

"No need to get carried away about it. I ain't mad at you for speeding or nothing. Live and let live is what I say."

Note to self, buy CB radio and learn how to use it.

I think I got my money's worth this time with the mule man. It wasn't that the mules were any cheaper, though they were nice big well mannered mules, it was that he knew the scoop about CB radios and where to get them. In fact he went to Springfield with me and helped me with my selection.

I'd noticed them before in truck stops and had assumed that would be the best place to get one.

"Aw naw, you don't want one from a truck stop. All they got is the legal type and you just can't get out with one of those puny things," he said.

So we dropped in on a friend of his in Springfield, a friend who just happened to own a CB radio repair shop, and instead of wasting a hundred and twenty five dollars on a puny Cobra 29 with only forty channels, I got an RCI 2995 DX Ranger for seven hundred and fifty dollars or thereabout.

Of course the Ranger would operate on the ten through twelve meter bands, after the free with purchase illegal modification, and it could broadcast and receive in AM, FM, and both upper and lower single sidebands, whatever they were. Why, that was thousands of channels.

Neither my mule man nor my CB man bothered to mention that what I was mainly interested in was only channel 19 in the CB (eleven meter) band or that the CB band was the only one I could legally use, if my radio had been legal in any fashion in the first place.

The next portion of my CB education concerned boosters, as in linear amplifiers, with which I could illegally jack up the output of my already illegal radio, and thus transmit farther on the channels I wasn't supposed to be transmitting on in the first place.

Somehow it all made perfect sense to me at the time. Especailly after I learned about the Turner Road King RK-56 Noise Canceling microphone. The one that would give my Big Radio that distinctive Big Radio sound when I transmitted.

Boy, was I happy that I'd asked my mule man if he knew anything about CB radios. Alas, my mule man needed to get back home, he had some mule business to take care of I guess.

My new CB man said he could have my radio ready to install by early tomorrow morning, and after I asked, it just so happened that his son was an expert at installing CB radios, and did I perhaps need an antenna and some coaxial cable?

I got all that straight, and with my new fear of things breaking down, brought on, no doubt, by my considerations and deliberations over the extra mule, I bought two complete radio setups but chose to have only one installed. I'd just keep the other one as a backup, especially after my CB man told me that switching one radio or linear amplifier out for a different one was a trivial thing, and that his son would be happy to show me how.

I got my mule man back to his home just in time. He said it would be fine for me to leave my new mules and the trailer at his place until I had my CB radio installed and was ready to roll. With everything settled, so far, I drove back to Springfield and found a motel room for the night.

Bright and early the next morning I drove over to my CB man's place and his son was raring to go. I pretty much watched the whole thing and I must say that he was very efficient.

I had a couple of questions about things, like when he used exactly nineteen feet of coaxial cable from the rear of the linear amplifier to attach it to the antenna, which was mounted in the center of my pickup's roof. Actually, the whole antenna production seemed illogical to me.

For instance, why cut a hole in the pickup's roof when I'd seen uncounted numbers of antennas attached to the wing mirrors of semi trucks, and why use exactly nineteen feet of cable when not even nearly that much was needed to reach the antenna.

The answers were forthcoming of course. He used nineteen feet of cable because that was what the antenna manufacturer recommend and his experience had shown him that it yielded the best standing wave ratio with the five foot Francis Hot Rod antenna I'd purchased, give or take a little. I tried to look like I understood what this meant but it's possible that I didn't do a good job of it.

I thought I could almost understand the hole in the roof bit though. It was supposed to yield better transmission and reception because the flat surface of the metal roof made for a better ground plane - whatever that is.

I have to say that of the three of them, my CB man's son was the most patient about explaining things to me. The setup was installed within three hours and then he spent another hour showing me how to change out one unit for another.

I thought he did a particularly fine job with the power connection for the linear amplifier too. He used double ought SJ cable, connected directly to my truck's battery with a quick disconnect similar to the ones I'd seen on heavy electric fork lift batteries, and he used the same type of quick disconnect on the inside of the truck too. I could disconnect the cable at both ends that way.

My CB man's son explained that the heavy cable was needed for the linear amplifer because it produced more than a thousand watts of RF output.

"Ya gotta feed a big hawg like that," he said.

The next problem reared it's ugly head while he was explaining how to set the SWR or standing wave ratio. I understood what he said about checking it twice with the plug in the meter turned in opposite directions for each test, and I understood the simple math required to find what the ratio was after the measurements had been made.

I even unserstood, because he showed me exactly, how to trim a tiny portion at a time off the end of the antenna to change the ratio. What I didn't understand was how I was gong to be able to check this standing wave ratio without a meter like he was using.

"Aw, no problem thar. Daddy has one he kin sell ya," my CB man's son said.

All in all I'll have to say that my CB man's son provided by far the best bargain of my whole trip. After the radio was installed it looked perfectly normal where it was and there weren't any wires hanging down anywhere.

He had also been very patient and detailed in his explanations. He even helped me pick out a handle - the pseudonym CBers use instead of their real name - I setteled on ShotgunWillie.

"That should be a good un for ya. Hell of a lot of trucks come through Springfield and I've only heard two drivers that ever used it. One was a dumbass from round here that pulled a skateboard. He runed off a mountain in Montana whilst hauling a load a pipe. He don't need it no more.

"T'other'n hauled a reefer fer Prime fer a couple of years, but someone tolt me he went back ta Texas ta drive a log truck," my CB man's son said.

Naw, couldn't be. ShotgunWillie I was.

Perhaps the most valuable information my CB man's son gave me was to concentrate on listening to the CB and try not to say anything for at least six months.

"You'll just sound stupid til you catch onto the lingo. If you just have to hear something again, because you didn't understand it the first time, just key the mike and say Come again, driver and they'll probably repeat it. You don't have to tell them who you are or anything else, just say, come again," he said.

He was well worth the three hundred dollars I paid him for the installation, and I was happy to discover that the Bird meter (for checking the SWR) with three plugs, was only two hundred and fifty bucks. I had everything I needed now and I started the truck.

Before I could get it into drive, my CB man's son came running out of the shop with five more five foot Francis Hot Rods in his hand. They were still in their plastic wrap.

"Ya almost fergot your spare antennas," my CB man's son said.

I thanked him and set them over into the back seat, and I was off.

When I got back to his place, my mule man was happy to help me hitch up my trailer and then load the mules for the ride to Texas. He also admired my CB man's son's work with the radio installation.

I was feeling on top of the world, driving down the road, listening to the CB chatter on channel 19 and trying to figure out what any of it meant. My CB man's son had told me that it would come to me and he'd warned me not to watch Smokey and the Bandit and think anything they said on their movie show was anything like real CB lingo.

The good feelings dimmed a little when I passed the spot where the officer had pulled me over for speeding on my way to Sprinfgield. They dimmed because I realized that while I was in Springfield, I'd spent a little over four thousand dollars on CB radios in order to avoid getting another one hundred and fifty dollar ticket. I perked back up when I realized that avoiding tickets would keep my insurance rate down.

I had plenty of time anyway, so when I got to Conway I checked around and found the address of the Justice of the Peace that I would have to deal with concerning my ticket. It so happened that he had an office in a strip mall not more than a mile away and I visted him right then.

He was very accomodating and rather friendly, praising me for taking care of the fine so quickly. He went through a slight formality of holding court, but when I pled guilty he stopped and put the court in recess.

"I don't wanna tell you your business mister, but you've been prompt and polite and I think I should mention that if you ask for deferred adjudication - you'll have to pay more - but the charges'll be dropped if ya don't do it again in the next year," the Justice of the Peace said.

I thanked him for the information, and thinking once again about my insurance rate, when he called the court back to order and asked how I pled, I requested deferred adjudication. He granted it, and I now owed two hundred and fifty dollars for my one hundred and fifty dollar ticket. Oh well, it probably would be cheaper in the long run and it was sure as hell cheaper than the CB radios had been.

The rest of my trip home was uneventful, and the new mules didn't give me any trouble when I unloaded them and turned them out into the pasture with the others. None of the normal squealing and kicking that goes on when horses make new acquaintences.

Taped to the kitchen entry door inside my garage I found a notice that UPS had been by to deliver a package. It said that they would be back by tomorrow to try again. It had to be either the two packsaddles for my new mules, or the mobile satellite TV antenna and DirectTV/Tivo receiver for my camping gear. I could wait.

Even though I wanted to take all my horses and mules over to the next nearest small town to have their shoes checked or replaced by my favorite farrier the next day, I put it off so that I could be there to receive my package from UPS. It didn't arrive until four PM but I was lucky in that by this time both had appeared and I got both shipments at one time. That meant I was free for the farrier the next day, and so I called him and everything was set.

Everything was set until the next morning when I realized I now had four mules and three horses to haul in a six horse trailer. I knew that the farrier had a pen that could hold them while they waited for his attention, so I took the mules and both mares over, unloaded them and put them in the pen and then came back for the stallion.

When I got back he was done with the mares, so I put the stallion in the pen with the mules and put the mares back in the trailer. I stayed around for about half an hour while he took care of the stallion and I loaded him up for a trip home too.

By the time I'd unloaded the mares and the stallion and made my way back to the farrier, three of the mules had been done and I only had to wait for him to finish the last mule. And so it goes.

The next morning I set out to cure the trailer problem. I knew there was a large horse trailer dealer in Shreveport, and I made for it. I hadn't been there twenty minutes before I saw a really nice ten-horse trailer, possibly unfortunately, they didn't have any very nice eight horse trailers. I loved it. It was all enclosed and even had some nice chrome trim and a fairly nice paint scheme. I had to have it.

I'd payed for the trailer and was backing up to let one of the attendants help me hook it up. He shouted for me to stop while I was still five feet from it.

"I hate to mention problems at this late date mister, but you bought a goose neck trailer and you don't have a goose neck hitch," the attendant said.

"Well, kiss my ass," I said.

"We could put ya one on in the shop, probably bout three fifty," the attendant said.

There was nothing else to do. I wasn't going to let the lack of a three hundred and fifty dollar trailer hitch keep me from taking my twenty thousand dollar show-horse trailer home. Luckily they were able to get right on it.

I made it home before dark, but there was really no problem. The men at the horse trailer lot had made sure that all of the trailers running, license plate, and brake lights worked perfectly when they installed the hitch and new hundred dollar wiring harness. They even guaranteed that the old, bumper hitch wiring harness would still work fine.

I didn't even unhook the new trailer, because the salesman had bragged so about how much better I'd like it that I was determined to try it out tomorrow, with a full load, except for the three empty spots that I didn't have horses or mules to fill.

Bright and early the next morning I went out and loaded all my stock into the new trailer. It went off without a hitch. Then I was off down the road again, and I noticed that my half-ton pickup with the economy engine didn't pull my new, mostly loaded ten horse horse trailer worth a shit. It was hard to decide whether the dog was wagging the tail or the tail was wagging the dog, either way the wagging was sluggish.

So the next morning I went to the dealership in town in search of a new, bigger, pickup. A salesman descended on me as soon as I was in the lot, and I wondered if he hadn't run from the time he first saw me pull off the main highway.

In seconds he was showing me Chevy Silverados in the one ton size, and he saved the best for last, it had an extended crew cab, and full size eight foot bed, the biggest engine and four wheel drive, except in reality it had six wheel drive because the rear axle had dual wheels, but I didn't argue. Wonder of wonders it came with a goose neck hitch already installed.

I told him that was the one I wanted and I'm sure he was getting cranked up for the trading, but I wasn't having that. I didn't really need two pickups, but neither did I need to drive that one ton around all the time when I wouldn't be pulling the horse trailer very often.

I wrote him a check, but only with the understanding that they were responsible for making all the trailer light hookups conform to the ones on the pickup I had already. He said they would.

While they were doing the final service and preparation on my new truck, I took my old one and brought both the goose neck and the bumper hitch trailers to the lot so that I could make sure the lying bastards had it right before I left. I may not know much about dealing with mule traders or CB men, but I do know they'll fuck you in a heartbeat at a car lot.

In what can only be called one of life's little mysteries, they got it exactly right the first time. They did try to get me to let someone else drive one of the trucks to my house, but I made them have someone follow me while I took the half ton and the bumper hitch trailer home and then bring me back to get the one ton and the goose neck trailer, and the lights still worked when I got them home.

Thinking I was nearly ready for another weekend of camping, I went to sleep that night, mostly at peace with the world.

I spent the next day trying out the new mule harness, learning how to set up my mobile DirectTV/Tivo and then figuring out what I could carry with two more mules and then how to pack it most efficently.

I even worked on it again all the next day, until I had it down pat. No doubt about it, all systems were go for a camping trip this weekend. Then it hit me, I didn't have a CB in my new truck.

Of course I wouldn't really need it until I had to haul all, or most of my horses and mules at the same time, but then again I'm the type of guy who likes to get ready for eventualities.

I whipped out my cell phone to call my CB man, and after I explained the problem of the new truck and no CB in it he put his son on the line. I explained things again and asked him if he could install another setup in the new truck tomorrow, if I got up there early.

"Why shor, no problem. Want me to put in that spare one you bought before?" he asked.

I had to think about that for a second. It made sense, but if I did that I wouldn't have a spare anymore, and to tell the truth I'd found that I liked listening to the thing and I even thought of it as learning a foreign language.

"No, I think I'd rather have a whole new setup. You'd better let me talk to your father again."

In a few seconds I was talking to my CB man again and he assured me that he could have another setup, just like the first one, ready by the time I got there in the morning.

During the call, I finally discovered that the CB man's son's name was apparently, Jr. I took off within the hour and pulled into their yard by seven AM. I made myself be very careful about my speed while driving, since I thought it would be stupid to get a speeding ticket while on a trip to have a CB installed so I could keep from getting a ticket. I made it without one too.

Jr was happy to drive me into town to get another motel room, and he asked if I wanted him to pick me up when he was done. I decided to spend the night and asked him to just pick me up tomorrow morning. I was exhausted and went to bed as soon as I got in my room.

Jr met me in the café the next morning, and since I had already checked out, we left after I finished my breakfast. Jr had done another top notch job and the CB looked as if it belonged where it was, right down to the little clip that held the Road King RK-56 Noise Canceling Microphone.

I paid him, and this time tipped him a hundred dollars. Getting a tip seemed to be a novelty for him, but he adjusted gracefully. When I went in to pay his father, I saw that he has several boxes on top of his counter and that one was open and he was busily examining whatever it was that had come out of it.

"What's that?" I asked, mostly trying to show polite interest.

"Best damned Radar Detector that 'as ever made," he said.

"You don't say," I said.

"Yes I do, it's programmable and everythang."

"Do they really work well?" I asked.

"Shore, they work so good the congress outlawed 'em for big trucks. That's the main sellin' pernt fo' these. They work on batteries, no cords for the cops to spot. If'n a trucker gets stopped, he can switch it off and hide it before the cop gets up to his door."

I was impressed, and fleetingly, I wished I'd thought of a radar dectector before I'd heard of CB radios. Still, I'd come to like listening to the CB. It beat talk radio to hell and gone, and besides, one day I'd be able to talk back. Try that with Rush Limbaugh or Howard Stern.

Thinking about it more closely, I could see that it wouldn't hurt to be doubly protected, and at two fifty each, the radar detectors were a steal. I bought two for each truck and two for my 63 Vette - yes, I still owned it, and I'd probably be even more likely to get a speeding ticket in it, even though I never had - and when he had them boxed up I took them out to the truck. Jr even looked around, and after putting in the nine volt battery, he found the best spot to place the unit and also the best place to hide it quickly.

Back in the shop, my CB man had another CB, linear amplifier, and five more antennas for me. I hadn't intended to get another spare but I remembered that I did tell him I wanted another setup just like the first one. A small difference in semantics I guess. I paid my enormous bill without complaint and went on my merry way.

I'd just pulled into my driveway at home when my cell phone went off. It was Jerrilyn, the big tittied big blonde in Vegas. She'd been devastated by yet another breakup, and needed me desperately. What's a man to do? I promised her I'd be right out.

I called Jimmy Holcomb, the young man that watched my place and fed my stock while I was away, and told him I was leaving within the hour. He said that he'd take care of things for me.

I called and made a reservation for a flight to Vegas from Shreveport. Then I thought for a a minute and decided that my half ton pickup was still the least likely to be stolen or vandalized in the long term parking of the Shreveport airport. After that, I went inside and packed a bag.

Two hours later I was flying the friendly skies.

In Vegas I grabbed a limo and it took me to Jerrilyn's place. She was delighted to see me, but as usual, for the first night, she only wanted to cry on my shoulder while I consoled and tried to cheer her up.

Even as clueless as the sweet thing usually was, she could tell I was worn out by midnight, and we went to bed. I'm not sure if she cried anymore after we got in bed or not. I was out right away.

We woke about nine the next morning and after some sexual healing, I took her out to breakfast. Later we went back to her apartment for another treatment or two before she had to go to work.

I played a little poker at Binion's to see if I remembered how, and cleared enough to buy two more one tons and equip them with double radio setups and two radar dectors each. Somehow both my favorite arabs were in town together and they were delighted that I'd shown up.

It was such a good night that I considered buying Jerrilyn a car to see if it would speed her recovery. I decided against it though, fearing that she might keep me an extra two weeks, thanking me. Not that it would be all bad.

It turned out that it was a particularly rough time for Jerrilyn. What with her turning twenty-six a month ago, and now practically over the hill, she needed a lot of therapy. On the day she thought she was cured, after six weeks of diligent work, her best friend in the world - besides me she said - called. Jackie had her own tale of woe.

Jackie, a spectacular redhead that was almost exactly Jerrilyn's size, except for slightly bigger natural titties, and freckles on her butt and other places, had been dumped and it just wasn't fair. She was only twenty-three and knew perfectly well that she wasn't over the hill. Especially since there was no way that her older friend was even anywhere close.

Of course, Jerrilyn recommended my services and invited Jackie over to meet me. Sadly while Jackie was on the way, their age difference began working on Jerrilyn and she had a minor setback. Alas, I would just have to knuckle down and treat both of them, at the same time, so to speak. The things a man goes through for his good friends.

Jackie turned out to need some anal care too and it needed to be especially energetic, and after watching an especially vigorous treatment of that type, Jerrilyn thought that she might just benefit from some of the same, though she'd never actually tried it before.

What with two delicate young women to console, my poker playing time was cut to the bone. I barely managed to clear twenty-five thousand a week, but sacrifices had to be made somewhere, and it wasn't like I needed the money.

Finally, after three months in Vegas, Jackie and Jerrilyn felt like they still had reasons for living after all. They both took a night off for a small party in my honor. A small naked party with only the the three of us in attendance. Wisely, I slept all the way back to Shreveport.