IT'S ALL ABOUT MUD AND ROCKS
by
A.G. May

“Mr Tobin, trouble with your truck?”

Lars Tobin shuffled around on the far side of his 49 chevy one ton. His recognition of the younger man was not immediate, at first he said nothing. “Tires flat on the front passengers.” The smirk which followed, hinted of familiarity, although Perry was doubtful he actually remembered his name. “Got a spare at home, don’t bother to carry one along, waste of space, been years since I had a flat.”

Perry looked at the tires on drivers side and wondered how he’d gotten this far. The one on the inside rear had a trace of tread remaining; the other two were pretty much completely bald. Perry suppressed a smile, Lars was a bit notorious in the community, had a temper too. Not many people really had much to do with the man, nor did he see a lot of visitor out at his farm. The state of the old truck, and the tires in particular were no surprise, amusing, just another entertaining element in the life and times of Lars Tobin.

“Got a load on that thing Mr. Tobin?” Perry asked as he stepped around the front of the truck.”

“No, and why you calling me Mr. Tobin? It’s Lars. You call me Mr. I think you’re trying to sell me something, like a casket or a cemetery plot.”

Even at thirty four years of age Perry was uncomfortable calling Lars by his first name. As a child he’d been taught to show respect to these older people, add to this Lars Tobin’s reputation, Mr. Tobin came naturally, the shift to calling him by his given name was uncomfortable at best .“Ok Mr., I mean Lars.” Perry caught himself.

“You go’in into town young feller?”

“Heading in to exchange an alternator. You want to pull that tire off and get it fixed, I don’t mind hanging around town for a bit.” Perry was already digging around for a jack in the cavernous tool box bolted into the bed of his truck.

Lars didn’t answer right off, but the tinkling metal on metal sound coming from the far side of the truck told Perry he’d already decided the offending wheel was coming off. Perry stuck the jack under the front bumper and began to lift. Lars fought with the first lug nut with little success.

The man didn’t weigh more than a hundred and thirty pounds, the legendary strength and vigor of his youth having slipped away in small bits over the years, leaving just this old scrawny little badger to prowl the back roads in his ancient fleet of rusting trucks. Just as sharp witted, every bit as ornery, but outwardly he’d regressed a great deal from the imposing figure of not so many years past.

“I can get those lug nuts if you want to block the wheels,” Perry offered hoping not to offend the old farmer. Lars didn’t even glance his way, he just handed him the wrench and began digging around in the cab for something to use as blocking.

With a bit of heavy persuasion the wheel broke free from the hub, Perry rolled it around and lifted the big wheel into the back of the truck. Lars opened the passenger door and stopped short when he saw Perry’s six year old son sitting on the seat rubbing his eyes.

“Nothing like an afternoon nap to recharge those batteries is there,” Lars said as the boy slid across the seat against his father. “There’s not a lot of days I don’t do that myself.” The small boy was now tucked in tight against his father; unable to retreat any further he stared back without the courage to utter a single word.

“I don’t bite,” Lars told the youngster. “Not anymore anyway,” Lars smiled wide and let his false teeth flutter a bit. “See, the new teeth don’t fit so good. Makes it impossible to bite little boys anymore, my teeth would likely fall out on the floor, probably hurt me more than it would you.”

The boys eyes grew steadily larger, his mouth clamped so tight his lips completely disappeared. Perry fearing his son might start to cry at any moment thought some introductions might change the direction of the conversation. “Dennis this is Mr. Tobin, he farms over near Cactus Lake.”

“How do you do Dennis,” the old farmer offered, sticking out his hand. Dennis sat unmoving against his father, his hands tucked tightly under his arms. Lars pursued it no further.

“So, you plant canola this year, noticed you had quite a crop if it last fall” Perry asked, as he pulled out onto the dry dirt road.

“No, just wheat and barley, might be my last year you know.”

“So you’re done farming after this year Lars.”

“May just be my last year, might just be my last week, can’t really be certain now can I.”

Perry didn’t chase it any further. They sat in silence for a moment. “If you’re too warm just turn the air conditioning up. I had it a bit warmer while Dennis slept.”

“Wouldn’t know how even if I needed to, never owned an air conditioner, never owned a truck that they offered up an air conditioner for either, easier to just roll down the window.”

Perry felt a bit awkward, he’d forgotten about Lars unique fleet of vehicles, none were newer than about 1972. Several dead ones cluttered his farm yard, quite a few parts trucks, some true collectors, like a nice little Studebaker and a couple early fords among others. They’d be sitting right there until he left the place, either on his own or in a box.

Perry felt his son begin to relax ever so slightly, Dennis normally outgoing, was a little intimidated by the cantankerous fellow crowded in beside him. He couldn’t help but look at the skinny old man, quick glances to start, then, finally an almost clinical study began.

Lars pretended not to notice, making a point of looking straight out the front windshield. “What time Tommy’s open til?” He asked, his gravelly voice startling young Dennis only briefly.

“Think five, longer if you get there soon enough, he’s usually open later this time of year anyway, a lot of people working late and on weekends to get the last of the crop in.”

“Hope so. Likely need a tire, think the sidewalls cracked up on this one.”

Perry smiled, if only inwardly. The sidewall may be a bit weather cracked , the tire however was worn out completely, there wasn’t one mile left in the thing. It might be worth hanging around while Lars digs around in the used tire pile, the entertainment value alone would certainly be worth the time spent there.

“What’s that thing on your nose?” Dennis’s query surprised both his father and the weathered old timer. Lars recovered nicely, his father on the other hand took a moment longer to register this bold assault, giving Lars a chance to respond first.

“Well it’s a growth I guess, caused by 80 plus years of beautiful sunny days, or so they tell me.” Lars replied looking at Dennis.

“Doctor say so?” Dennis asked.

“Yep. Doctor said so.”

“He gunna cut it off. Uncle Bud had one on his back, they cut it off and sent it in the mail some place.”

“Dennis, it’s rude to ask those types of questions, and they didn’t send it in the mail somewhere, they sent it away for testing to see if it’s cancerous.”

“What’s cancerous?” Dennis asked no one in particular.

Before Perry was able to reply Lars piped up. “Cancerous, well it’s something you don’t want that sometimes grows on the outside, like on my nose, or sometimes it grows on the inside. Sometimes it just grows everywhere.” Lars voice showed only a hint of sadness, in a moment he perked right up again. “It’s just a part of being really old Dennis, It’s sort of like that old tire lying in the back, it can only run so long. If it only runs in the soft mud it will last a long time, on a rocky road it’ll wear out a whole lot quicker. I’m afraid life is a nice mix of rocky roads and muddy ruts, it’s just the way the world works. If you’re careful, if you look after yourself well I guess then you’re good for a few extra miles.”

Dennis looked up at Lars, “Just mud and rocks, why don’t you drive on the pavement then Mr. Tobin?”

Lars laughed a little, “Afraid I haven’t seen a whole lot of pavement Dennis.”

They rolled to a stop in front of Prairie Tire, Tommy strolled out of the first bay to meet them. “What’s up Perry?”

Perry crawled out, right behind him Dennis clambered down. “Lars needs a tire patched.”

“Well let’s have a look, sure it won’t take much to fix.” Tommy’s mouth only hinted of a smirk, Perry caught it, Lars not expecting one, did not.

“I’ll be back in about forty five minutes Lars, I’ve got to hit the post office, then exchange a few parts, you need anything.”

“Nope, just a new tire according to Tommy,”

Perry and Dennis picked up Lars almost an hour latter, He grumbled a bit about the price of a new tire, related a few prices from many years past as a comparison then, settled in for the short ride back to his wounded chevy.

Perry helped replace the tire and let the jack down. Lars was appreciative but strangely preoccupied, he started back for his truck then stopped, turning toward Dennis who sat on the tailgate of the big 4x4. “I’d like you to have something I’ve been carrying around for quite awhile Dennis.”

Lars reached into his pocket and pulled out a large tarnished coin. “Found this trapped in the floorboards of an old house I torn down many years ago. I’ve carried it all this time for good luck. Well, I think it’s done all it can for me, I’d like you to have it. You can keep it, or spend it. It’s entirely up to you; do with it as you please Dennis.”

Lars dropped it into the little outstretched hand and turned without saying another word. Dennis watched him a second before climbing down and running after the old man. “Thanks Mr. Tobin.”

“I think you should call me Lars, all my friends do.” Lars climbed up and closed the door. He winked at the little man standing beside his truck. The engine started, the gears clicked a little as the engaged and he was gone.

Dennis looked at the dust curling out back of the truck, then at the coin in his hand. “Dad look.,” as he raced for the truck.

“A 1936 silver dollar, aren’t you the lucky one.” Perry said, a bit surprised.

“Is that good, is it really worth a whole dollar?”

“Oh, I think it’s like worth a lot more than just a dollar Dennis.”

“But you said it was a dollar dad. How can a dollar be worth more than a dollar?”

“Well Dennis, this dollar is very old, kind of makes it special to people, so then if someone wants that dollar, they need to pay more than just a dollar for it.”

Dennis, screwed up his nose a bit, this really didn’t make a lot of sense. “So I can buy more stuff with this dollar than a regular dollar?”

Perry realizing his explanation was largely ineffective tried a different approach. “I suppose you could, I’d be a shame to spend it though, it’s kind of like finding an old pirate coin.” Perry knew he’d hit on the right angle by the reaction.

Dennis’s eyes lit up, he looked again at the coin in his hand. He turned it over, “wow a pirate coin, look it’s even got a boat on it, and a guy with a funny hat.”

“He’s a king Dennis, King George the fifth of England.” Perry was about to explain the boat was actually a canoe but stopped himself, for now a pirate coin with a king on it would suffice quite nicely.

Dennis was already fumbling with his fathers cell phone, “Mom.” There was a short pause, “no mom, listen, Mr. Tobin gave me a pirate coin with a king on it.” Another short pause, “Yes, Lars Tobin gave it to me.”

Perry turned the key and the big diesel rattled to life. He thought about Lars Tobin, he’d seen a softer side of the grumpy old farmer. One not like to surface again real soon

Perry shook his head and said in an almost inaudible voice, “Well Lars, it’s not all about mud and rocks, there’s always a little pavement too isn’t there.”