Remember my blog from the other day titled “Hump Day?” Well, as with all good things, they gotta come to an end, but that story just would not quit. And, NO, it did not get better. Do you remember that deuce and half that I had to dispatch to haul all the Post Confinement Facility “crooks” around in? Yeah. Let me tell you about that truck. The truck from hell. Hang on for the ride. Dudes, I’m a country boy, born and raised. And I can drive a truck. In fact, my first foray into the driver’s seat of a truck was at the tender age of three. That was when I first learned that you really only needed three things to start a truck that had nothing to do with knowledge or a key. All you really needed were a hill where the truck was parked, the truck in low gear (pay attention, this is important), and a starter button. Of course, some gas in the fuel tank never hurt, but kids never pay attention to that sort of stuff. Yep. You guessed it. I was left alone in the truck and got inquisitive. I wanted to find out what the different knobs and buttons did. Some didn’t do anything when I tried. But when I pressed one magical button, the truck lurched down the hill. My first driving lesson. I digress. Back to the story. They always posted the speed for the deuce and a half at 35 MPH (25 MPH at night) on the main drag between main post and Kelly Hill on Fort Benning. But I never drove that slow. I had people see, places to go, and things to do. Pedal to the metal, all out is how I drove if the military police weren’t on the job. So, on a good day, when I was up to speed at 45 – 50 – 55-ish (basically as fast as the damn thing would go), even with down-shifting, it could take a bit to stop that beast. However, today would prove to be an exception as you will soon discover. Why? Today would be the day that I lost my brakes. Yay!!! But wait, not yet. First, it just had to get dark so I couldn’t see shit. Next, the Army just had to start screwing with me too. You know. Little shit like, at our last stop for the evening at the infantry brigade headquarters, the building was locked. Then, I had to go searching for the duty officer to unlock it to let us in. While I was doing that, the compressor belt broke on my truck so I lost the air assist portion of my air-over-hydraulic brakes. That meant my truck was not going to stop worth a damn. Things were just getting better and better. Then, when I approached the turn to Kelly Hill and brigade headquarters, I almost missed the turn because it took almost half a mile to stop the beast. As I was headed back to brigade headquarters, I hit something. I didn’t so much see it as feel it if you know what I mean. It was just a bumpety – bump, bumpety – bump, bump, bump. I stopped, finally, backed up, parked, and got out of the truck. And on the road lay a deer, dead as a bug on a windshield. I picked it up, and, after struggling with it for a few minutes, threw it in the back of the truck and took off. When I got back to the brigade headquarters, I called the military police and asked them what I should do. They asked me if there was any damage to the truck. I said, “Really? Damage to the truck? There might be some blood on the bumper but I couldn’t tell in the dark.” They told me to make sure I didn’t leave the deer carcass lying around and that was it. When the soldiers were done with their extra duty, they got into the back of the truck and immediately threw a hissy fit. It seems none of them had ever been near a dead animal before. The NCO in charge said, “Quit your damn whining like babies and git in the damn truck.” Well wouldn’t you know it, I was still batting a thousand. After we were underway, the NCO in charge said, “Watch out for that deer.” I said, “What deer?” Bumpety – bump, bumpety – bump, bump, bump. “That deer. That one right there.” he replied. I said, “Thanks a lot, Sarge, you know that I don’t have any damn brakes.” When I finally got the truck stopped this time, we got out to take a look. “Damn,” we both said together. “This one is bigger than the first one. Let’s get it in the truck.” Now the soldiers were really unhappy. They really started to bitch. They all said in unison, “Aw hell no!” The sergeant said, “We better drop the soldiers off at the Post Confinement Facility first before we deal with these deer. We took the soldiers to the confinement facility first, then we took the deer to the NCO’s post quarters so that he could clean and gut them. We agreed to split the meat and give some to my roommate who would have to make storage arrangements for the meat and cooking arrangements for my share. Needless to say, that night was a total waste as far as going downtown to Nichol’s Alley. I did manage to make it for a couple of hours of drinking but most of the excitement had already died down for the evening. It was just another exercise in futility.
by 
by 