September 19, 2025 • 19 mins
Sometimes there's a delicate balance between being responsible and adhering to rules. Brent's waxing poetic about gravel roads and what he refers to as treasure from a time in his youth. He brings up a situation that forces him to weigh the difference between being on time, versus doing what's right. Conflicting rules, one imposed by his mother, and the other imposed by his own conscience. It's "This Country Life" time right here on the Bear Grease channel.
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Episode Transcript
Available transcripts are automatically generated. Complete accuracy is not guaranteed.
Speaker 1 (00:05):
Welcome to this country Life.
Speaker 2 (00:06):
I'm your host, Brent Reeves from coon hunting to trot
lining and just in general country living. I want you
to stay a while as I share my experiences in
life lessons. This Country Life is presented by Case Knives
from the store More Studio on Meat Eaters Podcast Network,
bringing you the best outdoor podcast that airways have to offer.
(00:29):
All right, friends, grab a chair or drop that tailgate.
I've got some stores to share. Gravel roads and treasure.
The gravel road was the first step toward anything. It
was our connection to everything we did outside of life
(00:50):
on the farm. The back door and the front door
were symbolic of how you traversed the planet. Out Back
always meant one step at a time, either by me
or a horse.
Speaker 1 (01:02):
Front door was the same.
Speaker 2 (01:03):
Except you could also add a vehicle or tractor to
the short list of conveyances. I'm going to give you
my thoughts on what they've meant to me, But first
I'm going to tell you a story.
Speaker 1 (01:21):
It was late and my curfew was looting.
Speaker 2 (01:25):
I'd been running around town with a bunch of my friends,
circling the Sonic Drive in on the south end of town,
turning left on Main Street, negotiating a traffic light and
two stop signs that would have me on the north
end of Maine, where the Kroger parking lot would serve
as either a rally point to stop and visit with
my friends, or the turning point where we'd reverse our
(01:47):
drive and do it all over again, a mile and
a quarter round trip of driving through town, hanking the
horn and our friends as they passed in a seemingly
endless parade. A teenager mostly in their parents barred cars
and trucks. It was the Saturday night ritual of growing
up and going to school in war in Arkansas. I
(02:11):
have no idea if it's still the same, but one
can hope that there's something of a similar innocence taking
place now. Occasionally we'd meet uptown, make a plan, and
then convoy or rendezvous down a dusty or muddy timber
company road to a predetermined destination where firewood brought from
someone's home or wooden pallets that had been liberated from
(02:34):
behind the farmer's co op would be set a blade
guked at till such time we ran out of fuel
for the fire, or the attendees had to start making
their way towards home to beat the inevitable curfew that
to folks like me weren't a mere suggestion.
Speaker 1 (02:53):
There was no be home around.
Speaker 2 (02:56):
An appointed time at my house, a luxury some of
my fell sophisticates enjoyed. I blamed my older brother Tim
for his laxadaisical approach to life and the curfew clock
that filtered down to the rest of us. Had he
set an alternate precedent eight years earlier, I may not
have had to watch the ticket of the clock so
(03:17):
stringently myself. But that's probably an unfair accusation thrown toward
my older brother. After all, I was the one who displayed,
on more than one occasion my utter contempt for authority
outside of my own.
Speaker 1 (03:32):
Starting about the time I skipped school in the.
Speaker 2 (03:35):
Sixth grade and hopped the liberty train to the other
side of town for a death thumbing my nose at
the man or, more accurately, West Side Elementary School and
my mama, both entities who for some reason didn't trust
me to be at any appointed places delegated by whomever
happened to be in charge of my health and welfare
(03:57):
at any.
Speaker 1 (03:58):
Given moment on my own. Now I knew better than
any of.
Speaker 2 (04:03):
My sole purpose in life was and is to have fun,
regardless of the location or circumstances of my presence at
any particular event or place. This is still how I
naturally try to operate and the reason my wife has
learned the unique ability to roll her eyeballs around her
(04:24):
head so fast that it makes me dizzy. It has
been my plan every day of my life that as
soon as my feet hit the floor in the morning,
my schedule is which every way the wind blows, not
in Not In my professional life, obviously, I had deadlines
and appointments, court training, shifts, to cover folks, to supervise
(04:45):
all the mandated things we all have to endure. But
the rest of it, to be honest, has more or
less been by the seat of my breeches.
Speaker 1 (04:55):
Alexis what you want to go on a trip for
a few days?
Speaker 2 (05:01):
Sure? When do you want to go? I don't know.
We could leave this afternoon. Are you crazy? I can't
leave today to go out of town for a few days.
Oh okay, how about tomorrow?
Speaker 1 (05:14):
Then, Brent?
Speaker 2 (05:16):
Are you drunk? What about Bailey? Well she can go
with us, she has school, you idiot?
Speaker 1 (05:24):
Oh yeah, Well, she's smart. She can afford to miss
some that's huge. The one that I roll, the thing
would hit its peak.
Speaker 2 (05:32):
I swear I've seen them spend so fast that something
I've said.
Speaker 1 (05:36):
That you could light a kitchen match off of.
Speaker 2 (05:39):
I say all of that to set the foundation of
how that all ties into me telling the story about curfews,
a gravel road, my whimsy called out look ONLD life,
and a constant issue of living on the razor's edge
between freedom and absolute lockdown. I spent a little too
(06:07):
much time at the fire with the rest of my
associates and was cutting the time close when I finally
drug up and bid farewell to my fellow brothers and
sisters of the Saturday night fire. Fortunately, the fire was
at a dead end timber company rode only a few
miles from my house. I knew exactly how long it
was going to take me to get there, and if
(06:28):
I was one second early, it was as good as
being home an hour before curfew. However, if I was
one second late, I might as well have been a
wall from the service. There would be consequences and repercussions.
As I slid into the driver's seat of my truck,
the truck I'd bought with money made from haul and
hay trapping and working at the sailbarn. I calculated how
(06:52):
much time I needed to make up to roll into
the driveway, with a modicum of time to spare at
my watches, I started my truck.
Speaker 1 (07:02):
I suddenly had.
Speaker 2 (07:03):
A feeling of impending doom and maybe a little regret
for not leaving a couple minutes earlier than what I
had had. I really needed to stay those extra few minutes.
What would I have lost or missed out on by
going wheels up a little sooner. Nothing, not one thing.
I wouldn't have missed anything, But how.
Speaker 1 (07:25):
Would I have known if I hadn't stayed.
Speaker 2 (07:28):
I pulled out onto the highway with little fanfare and
made tracks toward the Hoss end, working math in my head,
still driving safely. I felt confident, bar in any type
of calamity, that I'd be crossing the threshold of the
kitchen right on time. It was almost like I hadn't
paid attention to the sixteen previous years of calamity that
(07:49):
had befallowed me right up to that moment in my
short existence.
Speaker 1 (07:54):
Had I not been paying attention?
Speaker 2 (07:56):
No, No, I had not like me, who mostly lived
for the here and now, can find themselves in situations
just like this, and I happened to be a highly
decorated veteran of it. Glancing at my watch, I could
see that I was ahead of schedule. I'd apparently aired
on the side of caution, and I was going to
(08:19):
have plenty of time, maybe even a minute or more
to spare. Dang, I could have stayed at the fire longer.
I turned onto the highway, onto the Gravel County Road
that would carry me the last mile and three quarters
to my sanctuary before the clock struck. Times up and
my coach turned not into a punk and pull by mice,
(08:41):
but more like a light blue, short wheel based Chevrolet.
I would be watching sitting in the yard as I
boarded the school bus with the rest of the unfortunate
souls who had to experience that big yellow chicken house
on wheels too and from school. But that wouldn't be
my eight for fortune favors the bold and I had
(09:02):
boldly gone where I had gone many times before, right
up to the edge of the cliff, and lived to
tell about it. This was shaving up to be one
more chapter in my semi charmed life right up to
when it wasn't a door. Deer hopped out of the
woods and loped along the road right in front of me.
(09:24):
It was like she just appeared in the road, and
I never had time to touch the brakes. Fortunately I
didn't have to. I wasn't going that fast and she
was easily maintaining her lead. As we both cruised down
that road toward home. I looked down at my spedometer
and that guy wasn't even trying, and she was doing
twenty miles an hour. I'd always wondered how fast the
(09:46):
deer could run, so I took the opportunity i'd surprisingly
been afforded and applied pressure to the foot feed and
started incrementally speeding up. She matched my speed perfectly and
was kicking rocks on the hood of my truck as
we both passed thirty. She was like a deer colored
missile as she tracked down the left hand road of
(10:06):
the gravel road, flinging rocks on the windshield and over
the cap of the truck. Woods roping on the left
side of the road, and to the right was acres
of cut sewer beans. There was no ditch on either side.
At any point she could have turned her wheels in
easy direction and smoothly transitions from the gravel to the
woods or grass. I'd already started slowing down, and it
(10:30):
only followed her for about half the time. It took
me to describe what was happening when she hung the
hard left and sent her punched the roadside dumps to
the County had recently placed there to terminate with extreme
prejudice any deer speed tests. Apparently it sounded like when
Granny gave Jeth throw that old kabong on the knogging
(10:52):
with her skillet. You could have heard it on the moon.
Oh well, I gotta get home, and I think I'm
going to have about a minute to spare. I tooled
on toward the house, and my amusement at hearing that
cartoon like noise that deer made when it slammed into
the dumpster actually registered on me. Well, I didn't intend
(11:13):
for that deer to get injured. It was more or
less by my hand that she ran into the dumpster.
What if she was suffering, That's what I thought about,
and that's what made me stop, turn around, go back
and check, knowing I was gonna be late. The road
(11:34):
was so narrow I couldn't just whoop around in the road.
I either had to do a fourteen point turnaround or
jet on down to the next driveway and come back.
Both would take about the same time. So I drove
an extra half mile, turned around, quickly pade my way back.
No dear sin, I went to the blacktop. I turned
around and headed back toward the house. Maybe she was
(11:55):
all right. As I passed the dumpster, I saw a
why belly lying behind it. As I got closer, I
stopped in the middle of the road, angled my lights
towards where she was at, and jumped out to check
on her. She was dead as a disco. I looked
at my watch. There was no way I was going
to make it home in time now, so I feel
(12:17):
dressed her and I loaded her up in the bed
of the truck so she didn't go to waste when
I drove home. Now, if Mama wasn't up waiting on me,
I could slip in the door, jump into bed, and
clean that deer in the morning. It was plenty cool
for her to keep until then. But Mama was waiting
up on me. I was late less than ten minutes late,
(12:42):
but late just the same. She listened to my story
and even looked at the deer in the back of
the truck and said she was proud of me for
going back and getting her and not letting her go
to waste. It's good. It's a good thing. She also
said she needed my truck keys. I should have left
for home earlier, and the bus runs at seven point
(13:02):
fifteen am on Monday. Rules or rules for a reason,
and that's just how that happened.
Speaker 1 (13:18):
I know why roads get paved.
Speaker 2 (13:20):
They're paved to increase safety and to increase road longevity
by creating a smooth, durable surface that protects the base
layer from water and erosion. It also reduces dust and
accommodates heavier, more frequent traffic than gravel can handle. While
paving is more expensive upfront, it can be more cost
(13:41):
effective long term for roads with a high volume and
daily traffic. But it significantly improves the user experience and
public safety. That's the reason. And I hate everything about it,
except for the safety part. The road in front of
our house was gravel, so was the State high that
wound through the community. I remember when it was paved,
(14:03):
and that would have been in the late seventies early eighties.
Every place I loved more than any other was only
approachable by a gravel road. The lake, the river, our farm,
everything it all had a dirt and rock pathway to
what I liked most. I talked to my brother Tim
on the phone now while he's driving, and I could
(14:25):
hear the shutter of his truck as he cruises over
washboard sections of gravel, imagining everything he has in his truck,
vibrating from place to place as he passes through the
areas where he remains.
Speaker 1 (14:38):
And we all grew up, you do have to drive
slower on gravel.
Speaker 2 (14:43):
That's not necessarily a bad thing. That's fast enough by itself.
We see more when we drive slower, like a few
episodes ago when I talked about going home and Tim
and I drove down to the river and all the
places that we passed that triggered me to room and
for events from long ago, seemingly inconsequential memories that are
(15:06):
made at the speed of life, not light. It is
my fervorent wish that we all slow down and just
see what's happening in our peripheral Stay in front. Sight
focused is a good thing. When we have a specific
mission in a singular goal, but when all things were equal,
slowing down and looking around them treat us to a whole.
Speaker 1 (15:29):
New world of fun and adventure.
Speaker 2 (15:34):
My good friend John Howard and I went fishing down
in Venice, Louisiana, earlier this year. John is a notoriously
slow driver, according to his wife Brittany, and I even
poked fun at him to her on our way down.
But I've driven down there twice now. The first time
was for work in October of last year at a
meat eater event. The second was with John. It was
(15:59):
a great metaphor from our life. The route was the
exact same, but on the first trip we were painting
the road red to get there, to get set up,
get unpacked, and adhere to the schedule that they laid
out for us. On the trip with John, it was
more like we'd gone someplace completely different. It was like
the highway had turned to gravel and we took the
(16:20):
time to look around. And I didn't catch as many
fish on the second trip as we did on the first,
but it was close and I saw more than ever
on that two day trip, as compared to the five
days I spent there previously. One thing I hadn't mentioned
is bare feet and gravel. As young and I can
vividly remember us running up and down that road, racing
(16:44):
each other. The grass of the yard and the gravel
of the road were the same. You didn't slow down
or tiptoe across the rocks. If anything, you grabbed another gear.
Even though my transmission wasn't built for speed like others
in my family, but our feet were acclimated and conditioned.
It with stand what would have me now searching for
(17:06):
a morphine drip after only a step or two. But
we walked those roads to the old country store, hunting
coke bottles to exchange with mister Alma's Marx to get
enough money to buy a candy in a cold drink,
a treat for a gaggle of dusty children on a
hot summer day. The empty bottle valued only at a
(17:27):
nickel when returned to the store for a deposit, but
to us it was worth its weight in gold. There
was treasure along the sides of those gravel roads, and
it was hours for the taking. We would leave in
the morning as to prospect along their way to the store.
Once we'd all gathered up my brothers and sisters out
in front of the barn, and my cousins from up
(17:49):
on the hill. Their home had initially been my great grandfather's,
And you could get there by wading knee high grass
through the field and crossing the creek, or hanging right
on the gravel and walk down the road aways and
wait for them at the mailbox, looking for bottles that
have been discarded through the night along the way. Those
(18:10):
roads have been paid now for forty years. The sound
of the crunching gravel has been replaced with the hum
of tires as they roll faster along the asphalt. Plastic
bottles have replaced the glass ones, and the Internet keeps.
Speaker 1 (18:26):
Most kids in the house for some reason or another.
Speaker 2 (18:30):
But when life slows down, I can still see us
all there, scavenging along the dusty road, laughing and racing
and chunking rocks at roadsides, and making our way toward
the store, looking for the treasure that would afford us
a summer treat, treat we would all share, even if
it was just a bite of candy or a sip
(18:50):
of coc colon. Pam, Tim Chuck, Lynn, Glenda, Pat Scott,
Renee and met a Family, Treasure Hunters and as Field Land.
Thank you so much for listening. If you haven't heard,
we're taking the Meat Eater Live Tour more South this December. Birmingham, Nashville, Memphis,
(19:13):
failed Well, Dallas, Austin are all slated for Steve Jannis
Randall playing yours truly to be there. You can get
early access to tickets by signing up at the meat
eater dot com forward slash tool.
Speaker 1 (19:29):
All the information's right.
Speaker 2 (19:30):
There until next week. This is Brent Reeves signing off.
Y'all be careful
Welcome to this country Life.
Speaker 2 (00:06):
I'm your host, Brent Reeves from coon hunting to trot
lining and just in general country living. I want you
to stay a while as I share my experiences in
life lessons. This Country Life is presented by Case Knives
from the store More Studio on Meat Eaters Podcast Network,
bringing you the best outdoor podcast that airways have to offer.
(00:29):
All right, friends, grab a chair or drop that tailgate.
I've got some stores to share. Gravel roads and treasure.
The gravel road was the first step toward anything. It
was our connection to everything we did outside of life
(00:50):
on the farm. The back door and the front door
were symbolic of how you traversed the planet. Out Back
always meant one step at a time, either by me
or a horse.
Speaker 1 (01:02):
Front door was the same.
Speaker 2 (01:03):
Except you could also add a vehicle or tractor to
the short list of conveyances. I'm going to give you
my thoughts on what they've meant to me, But first
I'm going to tell you a story.
Speaker 1 (01:21):
It was late and my curfew was looting.
Speaker 2 (01:25):
I'd been running around town with a bunch of my friends,
circling the Sonic Drive in on the south end of town,
turning left on Main Street, negotiating a traffic light and
two stop signs that would have me on the north
end of Maine, where the Kroger parking lot would serve
as either a rally point to stop and visit with
my friends, or the turning point where we'd reverse our
(01:47):
drive and do it all over again, a mile and
a quarter round trip of driving through town, hanking the
horn and our friends as they passed in a seemingly
endless parade. A teenager mostly in their parents barred cars
and trucks. It was the Saturday night ritual of growing
up and going to school in war in Arkansas. I
(02:11):
have no idea if it's still the same, but one
can hope that there's something of a similar innocence taking
place now. Occasionally we'd meet uptown, make a plan, and
then convoy or rendezvous down a dusty or muddy timber
company road to a predetermined destination where firewood brought from
someone's home or wooden pallets that had been liberated from
(02:34):
behind the farmer's co op would be set a blade
guked at till such time we ran out of fuel
for the fire, or the attendees had to start making
their way towards home to beat the inevitable curfew that
to folks like me weren't a mere suggestion.
Speaker 1 (02:53):
There was no be home around.
Speaker 2 (02:56):
An appointed time at my house, a luxury some of
my fell sophisticates enjoyed. I blamed my older brother Tim
for his laxadaisical approach to life and the curfew clock
that filtered down to the rest of us. Had he
set an alternate precedent eight years earlier, I may not
have had to watch the ticket of the clock so
(03:17):
stringently myself. But that's probably an unfair accusation thrown toward
my older brother. After all, I was the one who displayed,
on more than one occasion my utter contempt for authority
outside of my own.
Speaker 1 (03:32):
Starting about the time I skipped school in the.
Speaker 2 (03:35):
Sixth grade and hopped the liberty train to the other
side of town for a death thumbing my nose at
the man or, more accurately, West Side Elementary School and
my mama, both entities who for some reason didn't trust
me to be at any appointed places delegated by whomever
happened to be in charge of my health and welfare
(03:57):
at any.
Speaker 1 (03:58):
Given moment on my own. Now I knew better than
any of.
Speaker 2 (04:03):
My sole purpose in life was and is to have fun,
regardless of the location or circumstances of my presence at
any particular event or place. This is still how I
naturally try to operate and the reason my wife has
learned the unique ability to roll her eyeballs around her
(04:24):
head so fast that it makes me dizzy. It has
been my plan every day of my life that as
soon as my feet hit the floor in the morning,
my schedule is which every way the wind blows, not
in Not In my professional life, obviously, I had deadlines
and appointments, court training, shifts, to cover folks, to supervise
(04:45):
all the mandated things we all have to endure. But
the rest of it, to be honest, has more or
less been by the seat of my breeches.
Speaker 1 (04:55):
Alexis what you want to go on a trip for
a few days?
Speaker 2 (05:01):
Sure? When do you want to go? I don't know.
We could leave this afternoon. Are you crazy? I can't
leave today to go out of town for a few days.
Oh okay, how about tomorrow?
Speaker 1 (05:14):
Then, Brent?
Speaker 2 (05:16):
Are you drunk? What about Bailey? Well she can go
with us, she has school, you idiot?
Speaker 1 (05:24):
Oh yeah, Well, she's smart. She can afford to miss
some that's huge. The one that I roll, the thing
would hit its peak.
Speaker 2 (05:32):
I swear I've seen them spend so fast that something
I've said.
Speaker 1 (05:36):
That you could light a kitchen match off of.
Speaker 2 (05:39):
I say all of that to set the foundation of
how that all ties into me telling the story about curfews,
a gravel road, my whimsy called out look ONLD life,
and a constant issue of living on the razor's edge
between freedom and absolute lockdown. I spent a little too
(06:07):
much time at the fire with the rest of my
associates and was cutting the time close when I finally
drug up and bid farewell to my fellow brothers and
sisters of the Saturday night fire. Fortunately, the fire was
at a dead end timber company rode only a few
miles from my house. I knew exactly how long it
was going to take me to get there, and if
(06:28):
I was one second early, it was as good as
being home an hour before curfew. However, if I was
one second late, I might as well have been a
wall from the service. There would be consequences and repercussions.
As I slid into the driver's seat of my truck,
the truck I'd bought with money made from haul and
hay trapping and working at the sailbarn. I calculated how
(06:52):
much time I needed to make up to roll into
the driveway, with a modicum of time to spare at
my watches, I started my truck.
Speaker 1 (07:02):
I suddenly had.
Speaker 2 (07:03):
A feeling of impending doom and maybe a little regret
for not leaving a couple minutes earlier than what I
had had. I really needed to stay those extra few minutes.
What would I have lost or missed out on by
going wheels up a little sooner. Nothing, not one thing.
I wouldn't have missed anything, But how.
Speaker 1 (07:25):
Would I have known if I hadn't stayed.
Speaker 2 (07:28):
I pulled out onto the highway with little fanfare and
made tracks toward the Hoss end, working math in my head,
still driving safely. I felt confident, bar in any type
of calamity, that I'd be crossing the threshold of the
kitchen right on time. It was almost like I hadn't
paid attention to the sixteen previous years of calamity that
(07:49):
had befallowed me right up to that moment in my
short existence.
Speaker 1 (07:54):
Had I not been paying attention?
Speaker 2 (07:56):
No, No, I had not like me, who mostly lived
for the here and now, can find themselves in situations
just like this, and I happened to be a highly
decorated veteran of it. Glancing at my watch, I could
see that I was ahead of schedule. I'd apparently aired
on the side of caution, and I was going to
(08:19):
have plenty of time, maybe even a minute or more
to spare. Dang, I could have stayed at the fire longer.
I turned onto the highway, onto the Gravel County Road
that would carry me the last mile and three quarters
to my sanctuary before the clock struck. Times up and
my coach turned not into a punk and pull by mice,
(08:41):
but more like a light blue, short wheel based Chevrolet.
I would be watching sitting in the yard as I
boarded the school bus with the rest of the unfortunate
souls who had to experience that big yellow chicken house
on wheels too and from school. But that wouldn't be
my eight for fortune favors the bold and I had
(09:02):
boldly gone where I had gone many times before, right
up to the edge of the cliff, and lived to
tell about it. This was shaving up to be one
more chapter in my semi charmed life right up to
when it wasn't a door. Deer hopped out of the
woods and loped along the road right in front of me.
(09:24):
It was like she just appeared in the road, and
I never had time to touch the brakes. Fortunately I
didn't have to. I wasn't going that fast and she
was easily maintaining her lead. As we both cruised down
that road toward home. I looked down at my spedometer
and that guy wasn't even trying, and she was doing
twenty miles an hour. I'd always wondered how fast the
(09:46):
deer could run, so I took the opportunity i'd surprisingly
been afforded and applied pressure to the foot feed and
started incrementally speeding up. She matched my speed perfectly and
was kicking rocks on the hood of my truck as
we both passed thirty. She was like a deer colored
missile as she tracked down the left hand road of
(10:06):
the gravel road, flinging rocks on the windshield and over
the cap of the truck. Woods roping on the left
side of the road, and to the right was acres
of cut sewer beans. There was no ditch on either side.
At any point she could have turned her wheels in
easy direction and smoothly transitions from the gravel to the
woods or grass. I'd already started slowing down, and it
(10:30):
only followed her for about half the time. It took
me to describe what was happening when she hung the
hard left and sent her punched the roadside dumps to
the County had recently placed there to terminate with extreme
prejudice any deer speed tests. Apparently it sounded like when
Granny gave Jeth throw that old kabong on the knogging
(10:52):
with her skillet. You could have heard it on the moon.
Oh well, I gotta get home, and I think I'm
going to have about a minute to spare. I tooled
on toward the house, and my amusement at hearing that
cartoon like noise that deer made when it slammed into
the dumpster actually registered on me. Well, I didn't intend
(11:13):
for that deer to get injured. It was more or
less by my hand that she ran into the dumpster.
What if she was suffering, That's what I thought about,
and that's what made me stop, turn around, go back
and check, knowing I was gonna be late. The road
(11:34):
was so narrow I couldn't just whoop around in the road.
I either had to do a fourteen point turnaround or
jet on down to the next driveway and come back.
Both would take about the same time. So I drove
an extra half mile, turned around, quickly pade my way back.
No dear sin, I went to the blacktop. I turned
around and headed back toward the house. Maybe she was
(11:55):
all right. As I passed the dumpster, I saw a
why belly lying behind it. As I got closer, I
stopped in the middle of the road, angled my lights
towards where she was at, and jumped out to check
on her. She was dead as a disco. I looked
at my watch. There was no way I was going
to make it home in time now, so I feel
(12:17):
dressed her and I loaded her up in the bed
of the truck so she didn't go to waste when
I drove home. Now, if Mama wasn't up waiting on me,
I could slip in the door, jump into bed, and
clean that deer in the morning. It was plenty cool
for her to keep until then. But Mama was waiting
up on me. I was late less than ten minutes late,
(12:42):
but late just the same. She listened to my story
and even looked at the deer in the back of
the truck and said she was proud of me for
going back and getting her and not letting her go
to waste. It's good. It's a good thing. She also
said she needed my truck keys. I should have left
for home earlier, and the bus runs at seven point
(13:02):
fifteen am on Monday. Rules or rules for a reason,
and that's just how that happened.
Speaker 1 (13:18):
I know why roads get paved.
Speaker 2 (13:20):
They're paved to increase safety and to increase road longevity
by creating a smooth, durable surface that protects the base
layer from water and erosion. It also reduces dust and
accommodates heavier, more frequent traffic than gravel can handle. While
paving is more expensive upfront, it can be more cost
(13:41):
effective long term for roads with a high volume and
daily traffic. But it significantly improves the user experience and
public safety. That's the reason. And I hate everything about it,
except for the safety part. The road in front of
our house was gravel, so was the State high that
wound through the community. I remember when it was paved,
(14:03):
and that would have been in the late seventies early eighties.
Every place I loved more than any other was only
approachable by a gravel road. The lake, the river, our farm,
everything it all had a dirt and rock pathway to
what I liked most. I talked to my brother Tim
on the phone now while he's driving, and I could
(14:25):
hear the shutter of his truck as he cruises over
washboard sections of gravel, imagining everything he has in his truck,
vibrating from place to place as he passes through the
areas where he remains.
Speaker 1 (14:38):
And we all grew up, you do have to drive
slower on gravel.
Speaker 2 (14:43):
That's not necessarily a bad thing. That's fast enough by itself.
We see more when we drive slower, like a few
episodes ago when I talked about going home and Tim
and I drove down to the river and all the
places that we passed that triggered me to room and
for events from long ago, seemingly inconsequential memories that are
(15:06):
made at the speed of life, not light. It is
my fervorent wish that we all slow down and just
see what's happening in our peripheral Stay in front. Sight
focused is a good thing. When we have a specific
mission in a singular goal, but when all things were equal,
slowing down and looking around them treat us to a whole.
Speaker 1 (15:29):
New world of fun and adventure.
Speaker 2 (15:34):
My good friend John Howard and I went fishing down
in Venice, Louisiana, earlier this year. John is a notoriously
slow driver, according to his wife Brittany, and I even
poked fun at him to her on our way down.
But I've driven down there twice now. The first time
was for work in October of last year at a
meat eater event. The second was with John. It was
(15:59):
a great metaphor from our life. The route was the
exact same, but on the first trip we were painting
the road red to get there, to get set up,
get unpacked, and adhere to the schedule that they laid
out for us. On the trip with John, it was
more like we'd gone someplace completely different. It was like
the highway had turned to gravel and we took the
(16:20):
time to look around. And I didn't catch as many
fish on the second trip as we did on the first,
but it was close and I saw more than ever
on that two day trip, as compared to the five
days I spent there previously. One thing I hadn't mentioned
is bare feet and gravel. As young and I can
vividly remember us running up and down that road, racing
(16:44):
each other. The grass of the yard and the gravel
of the road were the same. You didn't slow down
or tiptoe across the rocks. If anything, you grabbed another gear.
Even though my transmission wasn't built for speed like others
in my family, but our feet were acclimated and conditioned.
It with stand what would have me now searching for
(17:06):
a morphine drip after only a step or two. But
we walked those roads to the old country store, hunting
coke bottles to exchange with mister Alma's Marx to get
enough money to buy a candy in a cold drink,
a treat for a gaggle of dusty children on a
hot summer day. The empty bottle valued only at a
(17:27):
nickel when returned to the store for a deposit, but
to us it was worth its weight in gold. There
was treasure along the sides of those gravel roads, and
it was hours for the taking. We would leave in
the morning as to prospect along their way to the store.
Once we'd all gathered up my brothers and sisters out
in front of the barn, and my cousins from up
(17:49):
on the hill. Their home had initially been my great grandfather's,
And you could get there by wading knee high grass
through the field and crossing the creek, or hanging right
on the gravel and walk down the road aways and
wait for them at the mailbox, looking for bottles that
have been discarded through the night along the way. Those
(18:10):
roads have been paid now for forty years. The sound
of the crunching gravel has been replaced with the hum
of tires as they roll faster along the asphalt. Plastic
bottles have replaced the glass ones, and the Internet keeps.
Speaker 1 (18:26):
Most kids in the house for some reason or another.
Speaker 2 (18:30):
But when life slows down, I can still see us
all there, scavenging along the dusty road, laughing and racing
and chunking rocks at roadsides, and making our way toward
the store, looking for the treasure that would afford us
a summer treat, treat we would all share, even if
it was just a bite of candy or a sip
(18:50):
of coc colon. Pam, Tim Chuck, Lynn, Glenda, Pat Scott,
Renee and met a Family, Treasure Hunters and as Field Land.
Thank you so much for listening. If you haven't heard,
we're taking the Meat Eater Live Tour more South this December. Birmingham, Nashville, Memphis,
(19:13):
failed Well, Dallas, Austin are all slated for Steve Jannis
Randall playing yours truly to be there. You can get
early access to tickets by signing up at the meat
eater dot com forward slash tool.
Speaker 1 (19:29):
All the information's right.
Speaker 2 (19:30):
There until next week. This is Brent Reeves signing off.
Y'all be careful
Host
Clay Newcomb
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