Benefits Of A Small Country Town

 

Behold the bucolic boulevards of Olde Texas

There was a time, dear friends, and not so long ago, when I'd have laughed at you for suggesting I'd end up in rural North Central Texas. "Ha, ha!" I'd exclaim, "Don't be stupid." Well the joke was on me and almost 18 years later here we are. Complaining? No, thanking God.

You see, here in the country the air's clear, the pace of life slower and more human, and, let's be honest, it's often more convenient. Say you want to go to the post office, DMV, police station, dry cleaners, supermarket or any of those things. Guess what, just a two minute drive or short walk away.

Don't you dare trespass. That's a positive.

That in mind, the rig caught a nail in the front door passenger side wheel and was slowly losing air. In the metrosprawl? All kinds of hassle. Here? Call up Tom's Tire after Morning Prayer (1928 BCP, thank you very much) and ask, "Hey, can you fix my tire, it's got a nail." Sure, they reply, bring it over. And so I did, easy, country style. And then?

Walked back home along the leafy boulevards of Olde Texas, answered church emails and then, after a call from the shop, wandered back again to the land of tires and trucks. "That'll be 40 bucks, Mr LSP, here's the nail." I gazed at the offending nail, "Appreciate you, man," and that was that.

Miserable Offender

Easy. Everything would've been harder in Dallas, Fort Worth, Houston. It might have been forbidden in Austin, San Francisco, London or Paris, but here in Hill County all was well. Did you know, punters, that Hill County Texas was, apparently, neutral ground for various warring tribes before we arrived in force?

All best for the great Feast of the Epiphany.

All Hail Texas,

LSP

Buckle Up

 

Do you think we're in for a rough ride? Better buckle up, eh? But perhaps you're disarmed, as in the UK. You know, because "safety." Perhaps you think your globalist masters, your Beloved Elite, will allow you to own anything, like farmland or a house. Maybe you need to think again, and arm up. Just a thought. Anyway, here's a helpful tune.

Cheers,

LSP

A Yellow Rose In Texas

 

And there you have it.

Stand Straight,

LSP

Yellow Rose of Texas

 

Dam straight

Cheers,

LSP

Frontier Justice

My Great, Great Grandmother was driving through Midland, Texas, sometime in the 1920s and stopped her car at an intersection. It was the oil boom and some 60 years off the War of Northern Aggression.

A man appeared at the door and demanded she give him her money. She reached inside the glove compartment of her vehicle and produced a revolver, which she pointed directly at that man's face. He ran.

They were made of stern stuff, those women.

I file this narrative under "frontier justice" in '20s Texas.

Your Old Friend,

LSP