Good morning readers. Thanks for coming by for a read.
Nobody much uses a tow bar anymore. The only thing available to rent in town was something called a ‘car dolly’, and I didn’t like the idea of renting one, even a little bit. But Gale’s reluctance to pull the New Truck into town with a chain was expressing itself full volume without him having to say anything outright.
I’d put notices on Kerrville Freecycle, Kerrville Marketplace, done everything I could think of without success. But a week or so ago Gale mentioned he’d seen one for $100 at a thrift store in Kerrville. At least he thought it was a tow bar. He said it had been sitting there a goodly while.
Those of you who read here probably know the idea of paying price-tag prices for something isn’t in my makeup. And $i00 for a tow bar, while probably a reasonable price, just wasn’t something I was about to do. I’d rent a car dolly first.
I borrowed Little Red and made a special trip to town in the hope it was a tow bar, and in the further hope they’d be ready enough to see it gone to be willing to do some horse trading. When I arrived unsuspecting began a bargaining session lasted maybe two hours. Tough, tough, tough, those people have become.
The only time in my life I ever recall having to dicker that hard for anything was in Mexico when I was 17 years old bargaining for a pair of needle-toed, fancy-stitched turquoise-dyed-stovepipe topped boots. I’d only tried one of them on and the fit was perfect. Got that guy down to $17 for the pair. But when I got back to Portales and put them on, turned out they were two different sizes. Killed my feet, wearing them.
But I’ve digressed.
As you can see from the pic, the tow bar’s now here, same size for both feet. And now it’s only going to be a matter of prying Gale away from whatever else he thinks he ought to be doing to get the New Truck to a Real Mechanic.