It never fails, my dad shows up to visit and shares a ridiculous story that has occurred since we last saw him. Some stories are suitable for sharing, others are most definitely not. Those ones I’ll have to take with me to the grave. This one however is safe. This one is about a guy, a turkey and a truck.
If you live in the boondocks, you know that every time you get into a vehicle, you run the risk of hitting a variety of wildlife. The most damaging, for the most part, is a deer. And the damage varies, depending on size of the deer and where on the vehicle it hits.
Now wild turkeys, they are deceptive. Those ugly birds pack a punch. More than once I’ve seen them as road kill with no feathers left. In fact most of them are all over the road. Something about the impact knocks every feather off the bird.
Before we get too far in to this, can we keep in mind that wild turkeys are rather vicious animals? A herd of them once spent the better part of a month terrorizing my dad’s farm dog. It was that long before my dad realized that they were trapping the poor pup into his dog house and eating all his food.
Which brings me to the scene for this story. Someone hit one of the dozens of wild turkeys that wander about my dad’s property on their way home from visiting my uncle. Given the location, he decided to drive up to the next driveway, turn around and check on the bird.
Except once he got to the driveway, he found that he couldn’t reverse. Then the truck wouldn’t move. Turns out the hit had taken out the transmission on his truck. Now, my boys were in ear shot so my dad left out the part where the friend curses the turkey and all it’s descendants to hell. Nothing spoils a day faster than a broken truck and roadkill. It is at this point, my dad happens along. They move the truck out of the driveway. Then my dad drives the guy home where he goes about getting a trailer to float the broken truck home.
As you can imagine, this takes some time. It’s about an hour later when the friend pulls up to where he hit the bird. He throws the turkey in the back of the truck, because hey, it’s still edible, and it’s turkey. And goes about loading up the broken truck.
Again, probably still cursing the turkey and all it’s descendants to hell. As one does in these kinds of situations.
He goes to get back in the truck and all of a sudden this turkey pops up and jumps out of the bed of the truck. Then proceeds to take off like he hasn’t been dead for the last 90 minutes or so.
At this point in telling the story, my dad (who has a knack for weaving a tale) is practically in tears, he’s laughing so hard. Because a turkey outsmarted this friend of my uncle.
Or as he put it “Poor guy didn’t even get a turkey sandwich out of the deal for all his trouble”.
Folks, this is the kind of story I grew up with. It’s the kind of story I still love. If you learn nothing else from our time together, I would hope you take away this: Life is what you make of it. Sometimes, you destroy your truck with a turkey and some times you are the turkey that escapes being dinner.
See you at the rink.