Note: From here on we will post three of Samís adventures per page. This might make it easier for everyone. So, have fun keeping up with Sam, and let Vol know how much you like his work.
For a little while,
Sam lived in a tent
about halfway between the tree and the crick
just sorta camped there all Spring,
eating from a campfire,
and drinking that cold crick water.
Said, "Wish them elves could see me now."
Along about June third,
Sam went to a little country store
to stock up. That's where he saw the truck.
It used to be blue,
and some of it still was.
Paid that boy a hundred and fifty dollars
and drove it home,
while Billy had a good laugh
with old man Morton.
but Sam knew what he was doing.
says "the driveway cost more'n the
A LOT OF STUFF
Through most of that first spring,
all Sam did was to walk round
his property introducing himself
to his rocks and trees and
some of the birds.
They thought he was all right.
Sam got to thinkin', though,
that winter might be kinda tough.
So he took that old truck
down to some construction sights
in Knoxville and brought back loads
of scrap lumber.
The carpenters laughed about not havin'
to pay for cleanup.
When he had what he figured was enough,
Sam got to lookin' real close
at the layout of that big red oak,
bought some tools,
and went to work.
Three months later,
he had four rooms around the trunk.
and a porch stickin' out from the kitchen.
The bedroom was upstairs for the view.
For a minute or two,
he even considered puttin' in electricity,
but decided it might work against
the place's natural energy.
In one corner there's a little room
with a bench seat and a eight inch hole.
Underneath, he rigged a big ol' pipe
leading down through the lid
of a fifty gallon drum ounted on a platform.
About every three weeks or so,
Sam backs his truck under it,
loads the barrel and hauls it to a campground
across the ridge where he can empty it
for a buck and a half.
When he has to pee,
he just goes off the porch.
The tree likes that.
After it was all done,
Sam rocked back on his heels,
looked everything over,
said, "it's good."
Sam still hasn't decided which was worse,
the stove or the mattress.
When he was ready to move in,
He went scourin' the countryside
for stuff to sit on, eat from, keep things in,
and a place to sleep.
All the farmers for miles around
thought he was a crazy hippie.
Some laughed, others told their kids
to git back inside while they sic'ed the dogs,
or ran him off with a shotgun.
Their wives liked the twinkle in his right eye,
and that wry smile,
they thought his truck fit him as good as his jeans.
Sam says, "I knew what I was doin'."
Before long, Sam had an easy chair
with a hole in one arm,
a great big pot bellied stove
two kitchen chairs, a folding table
three dressers (one he keeps in the kitchen),
and an old bedframe. A cute little blond
gave him a feather mattress
that leaked from two or three
places in the seams.
Sometimes one of those feathers
will get loose and tickle his neck,
says it reminds him of her hair when she
rested her cheek on his shoulder.
Have you ever tried to haul a thirty pound,
seven foot long, three foot wide,
limp bag of feathers up a tree?
After an hour and seventeen minutes,
Sam couldn't think of anything to laugh about,
and had to go take a bath in the crick.
He was so mad it took him two days
to think of haulin' it up with a rope.
He'd already decided to leave the stove
on the ground and climb down to it
if he needed to get warm
when Joe showed up with a block and tackle
and helped rig it up.
Sam's pretty comfortable these days.
A note from Vol
I know this guy in Zephyer Hills Florida name of Tiger Edmunds. He's unusual biker trash, but the real thing for sure. Ridden over a million miles, for real. He's also a college English professor. he wrote a couple of great
books. one is LONGRIDER, the other, The Ghost of Biker Trash Past. I bought mine on Amazon. I highly recommend him. I met him after I wrote SAM, but he's pretty much that guy.