SPF – Resting In the Rig

We’re loading eggs in Sacramento on Saturday with a Tuesday morning delivery in Trenton, New Jersey, four AM. Have to build a fire in this puppy. Barb does her share at the wheel. Hell, we’ve done this before, same run, same sked. If nothing happens we’ll even catch a nap at the other end. But this time the refer broke.

The dispatcher called ahead, got us into the International shop at Sparks, Nevada at two AM. The mechanics declared the refer was junk, and replaced the entire unit. That cost us nearly five hours. If we hadn’t owned a large car with 730 horses out front we would have been charged with a late load.

My CB has a linear amp, so I checked with the yard boss while we were still fifty miles out. They were running late, and they never knew we were late too.

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Where Old King Cole Hangs


Thank you to Sonya O., with Only 100 Words, for providing our photo prompt this week.

After forty years of trying George and his won the lottery for two-hundred million dollars. With the time-warn phrase rattling in their heads – a fool and his money are soon parted – George and his wife set sail for England to see how soon that would be.

They leased an ancient castle for a lengthy time After hearing music, and searching stem to stern, they found Old King Cole and his fiddlers three belting a tune. So all six went to the parlor for song and dance, and a spot of tea.

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