• Embed Doc
  • Copy Link
  • Readcast
  • Collections
  • CommentGo Back
Download
 
Excerpted from ‘How to be a Pencilneck’ by Owen Garratt
 © Owen Garratt 2009
www.pencilneck.com
Al lRi ghts Res erv ed
.
DRIVE LIKE A PENCILNECK
®
My Mom and Dad divorced when I was 3, and I lived in ReginaSaskatchewan with Mom; Dad lived on a farm near Wawota SK, about a 2 hourdrive to the south west, and I spent about half of every summer, Christmas andEaster holiday there.Wawota is a small town of about 500 people, and my paternalGrandparents moved into town from the farm a few years before I was born.Like most kids with rural experience, I learned to drive at a young age.My instruction was in Grandpa’s 1976 shiny burned rusty colored pickup, and likeany good farm truck, it was a ‘standard’. When I was around 10, Dad taught mehow to work the clutch, and explained how the hell to drive a truck that had threepedals when you only have two feet.This was likely a mistake. I wasn’t the kind of kid who should have beenshown things like driving, starting fires, shooting, ropes and knots, traps, chokeholds, or anything else that gave me a boost in the eyes of my impressionablepeers because I was apt to use my newfound skills. Also, I have a very hightolerance for applause. I think Dad has always thought this would go away, andhas always underestimated its pull.So, when my buddy Chris came with me on one of my summer visits toThe Farm, driving was high on the ‘to do’ list. Chris has always been more of acar guy than me, so he was a good audience.“Really, it’s easy to drive a standard” I said. We were on the Friday nightbus to Wawota.“And you think that you’re going to teach me, huh?”
 
Excerpted from ‘How to be a Pencilneck’ by Owen Garratt
 © Owen Garratt 2009
www.pencilneck.com
Al lRi ghts Res erv ed
.
There was a certain…whatchacallit in his voice. He sounded like anUnbeliever.“I know it looks complicated, but once you get behind the wheel, and haveme shouting directions at you, you’ll be fine!” I said.“And your Dad said this is OK? He actually said the words?”“Well, I don’t have it in writing, but he likes you.” I said.“That’s not exactly permission. Maybe I should ask 
him 
to teach meinstead.”“You don’t think I’m a good teacher?” I said, a little warmly.“No, I don’t think you’re a good teacher, and your Dad’s temper terrifiesme. I’m not risking having me bones ground to make his bread.” he said.That wasn’t a bad point actually. It needed thinking out.The next day, we were entrenched out at the farm. Even at such a youngage, it’s funny how lifelong habits are fully formed. I’m a late sleeper. Even atage ten, I was never up early without the use of heavy motivation. Chris wasalways up at least two hours before me, and had already breakfasted with Dad andcaught up with Grandpa when he came out from town. By the time I awoke at9:30, he’d already had a solid hour of TV cartoons.“Has Dad gone out?” I yawned.“Your Dad and Grandpa are out in the field, but they’re coming back toget us at noon, and we’re all going to have lunch in town. Your Aunt Swig camein from Winnipeg last night.”
 
Excerpted from ‘How to be a Pencilneck’ by Owen Garratt
 © Owen Garratt 2009
www.pencilneck.com
Al lRi ghts Res erv ed
.
This was welcome news! I’ll have to tell you about Grandma’s sister,Ruth. She was a gas! She always referred to herself as ‘Aunt Swig’, oralternatively, ‘Aunt Sow’. She was widowed early on, and spoke with a singsongy Scottish brogue…except without the accent. Like others in this branch of the family, she ran to some height, and was a great lanky jolly old soul whoenjoyed throwing her head back with a bawdy laugh. She sported anunconvincing dark brown hairdo, and was always swathed in riot coloredpolyester, and wore pale orange and yellow crocheted slippers around the house
(I’ve since verified the colors)
. Like Grandma, she seemed to have an imaginative andnever-ending series of ailments and body parts that needed repair. Chris and Icame to refer to her as “My Detective Aunt”, because she always, ALWAYS,knew when we were up to something.“Your Dad also said that you have to mow the lawn before lunch.” Hewas looking at me sideways.“Why are you looking at me like that?” I asked, puzzled.“I’m waiting for you to try and talk ME into doing it” he said.“Don’t worry, I wouldn’t ask you to try and do a man’s job” I said withsome smugness.Chris is no dummy; he knows my methods. If I don’t try to suck him intosomething, then there’s something else afoot.And he was perfectly right. I hadn’t mentioned it to him, but Dad had justpurchased a brand new garden tractor, and it was his pride and joy. I assembled asuperior look on my face, walked over to the door, stepped into my runners andgrabbed my special, never taken home, farm use only, black mesh ball cap with a
of 00

Leave a Comment

You must be to leave a comment.
Submit
Characters: ...
You must be to leave a comment.
Submit
Characters: ...