Little Wonders

Danny and I had come to "close Billy down." No flagman. No cones or signs. Working his truck mounted boom while sitting in someone's front yard. Overhead powerlines much too close. A long set of deep tire marks in a nearby ditch showed he had tried to do it right. "Went to my axles. Used a tree to winch out."

Billy waved and bounded down from his truck with a winning smile and the first of many stories to tell. Big, round head stuffed into a preposterously small, brownish safety helmet. "That's kevlar. It'd take a bullet." "Yeah, yeah, I know. My flagman didn't show this morning. A man's got to keep working, you know?"

Jimmy is a short, powerful, wide man. He could charm a snake charmer. He hadn't shaved in a week. From Kentucky, you quickly learn that you are in the presence of a man who built his trailer including motor, hydraulic lift and chassis from scratch. "She don't look like much, but she's a good truck." There may be nothing mechanical he can't do. Then you learn this Kentucky hills guy left his wife in charge of the business running his trucks that "feed the pulp mills." Came down with his bother, uncle and a brother-in-law "to help". He lives on 50 acres of land in a double wide. Looking back at his rig, "Not sure what I'll do with her when I get back home. May fix her up pretty and sell her. May keep her to move the junk I got around my property", he says with a twinkle in his eye. He's his neighbor's worst nightmare. He could probably buy me several times over. And he's probably one of the kindest, nicest, most clever men I'll ever meet.

Danny and I couldn't bring ourselves to close him down. But we warned him, again, about that powerline.