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Author Topic: OT, old work horse story  (Read 715 times)
JoeMama
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« on: August 16, 2011, 12:50:57 AM »

I come from a long line of knife sharpeners... my grandpa, his brothers, great grandpa.... Ricci Grinding in Cleveland, which my grandpa sold. I wish I had taken over his routes but I had visions of great riches. Eh, what is done is done.

Anyways, years ago, they had a horse drawn cart with the grinding wheel and it was pulled by their horse, a big mare. She was as strong as an ox. One day, the horse was sick in the morning, but some other man at the stable said, "Use my horse, he is very strong, it won't be a problem". My great grandpa said, " I don't know, this is a really heavy wagon with the stone wheel and all". The man said that his horse could pull it and it was obvious that he was very proud of his horse. So, reluctantly, they hooked him up to the wagon and started on their rounds. They didn't get far at all... barely down the street, but the poor horse was totally gassed and just lied down in the middle of the street still hooked to the wagon. The man who owned the horse was completely dumbfounded when they got back. He couldn't believe it.  My grandpa loved to tell me that story. It was better when he told it, and we would laugh our asses off.... the horse was ok. He liked that old mare. They had a different route each day and they would cycle through their routes every few weeks or so. He told me that the horse knew the routes inside and out, and her speed would pick-up the closer they would get to the end, and then after their last stop, should would absolutely haul ass back to the stable. Occasionally, I would go on his rounds with him in a truck years later over summer vacation. Then it would be back to the house where I had the honor of pouring a beer for him from the permanent keg he had in the fridge or "ice box" down in the basement. Good days.
« Last Edit: August 16, 2011, 10:03:28 PM by JoeMama » Report to moderator   Logged
pamwaggy
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« Reply #1 on: August 16, 2011, 08:35:54 PM »

Good ol' story too!  Thanks for sharing that.  I loved it.
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fuzzypants
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« Reply #2 on: August 16, 2011, 09:21:52 PM »

Love the story.
My Pops tells me a story about a big gray they had in Arkansa named Smokey pulled the cart plowed everything my Pops loved smokey and would ride on his bac when they were all headed for home pulling a cart one day un hitched standing in the barn Pops climbed up on ole Smokey he tells me he didnt know what happen but Smokey sent him to the rafters laid on his back was afraid to tell his Dad about being on top of Ol Smokey. True story.
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" when I get got , I get my Glock"
JoeMama
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« Reply #3 on: August 16, 2011, 10:12:41 PM »

That is cute. Those were the days, kids loved their horses, dogs, and cats. They didn't need a microchip driven hunk of junk from China to have fun.

My grandpa made us all kinds of stuff to play with. He built me a mini bike out of an old Atlas mini bike frame, but the best was an old pull wagon... the Radio Flyer type, but old and painted over. He attached a ledge to the back of the wagon and mounted a huge electric motor with a 12 volt battery and pulley system. Thinking back, it was really dangerous, no helmets or anything, just a pair of Keds. It absolutely flew... way too fast but we had fun. I think grandma eventually yelled at him and all of us came to our senses.
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fuzzypants
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« Reply #4 on: August 20, 2011, 12:34:11 PM »

this time of the year when I was a kid we would find the biggest hill with the driest grass take a peice of cardboard and slide down it wasnt long any kid with in a eye shot would be on that hilll with a peice of cardboard sliden lost shoes torn jeans skined up elbows we didnt care that was fun the worse part was going home and getting iodine on all those scrapes and yelled at for torn close and lost shoes
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JoeMama
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« Reply #5 on: August 21, 2011, 12:22:21 AM »

I bet those were good times.
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pamwaggy
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« Reply #6 on: August 21, 2011, 12:52:10 AM »

You guys/gals have the same grandparents I had!   We are sure lucky!
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JoeMama
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« Reply #7 on: August 21, 2011, 01:35:19 AM »

Pam, I agree.

One story that people seem to be amused by is when I tell them that Chef Boyardee was a guest at my parents' wedding. My dad's dad knew him well from business... Chef Boyardee was in the restaurant business and my grandpa was the maitre d' at a Cleveland hotel. My other grandpa knew him as well. He would tell me stories and would never say chef, he would just say Boyardee. I would always laugh.
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