Who Needs An Allowance?

I never got an allowance. Fact is, never even heard of it ‘til I started school over to Ripley. There was kids in my class whose parents gave ‘em a dollar a week for no reason at all. Always seemed kinda wasteful to me but I would’ve appreciated my folks givin’ me a handout. I wouldn’t have turned it down. We was always expected to just do our chores ‘cause that’s what we were supposed to do. My daddy would’ve popped a vein if I’d asked him to pay me for cuttin’ hay or feedin’ cows.

Things bein’ what they were, we was always lookin’ for ways to make some foldin’ money. Me and Poke Paramore and Dinnie Russell has done just about anything and everything legal a young’un could do for spendin’ money. Dinnie’s uncle Jake would sometimes let us have any bales of hay he couldn’t squeeze into his barn which we’d sell over in Hamlin for $1.50 each. Once we made close to $100 but most times it’d be closer to $50, split three ways. That ain’t much. When the vegetables started comin’ in and we was pickin’, my daddy’d let us have all the excess we couldn’t put up or can which we’d sell out on 41A or load up in Poke’s old pickup and haul the whole lot down to the farmers market in Nashville. We’d cut firewood every year which was long on work and short on benefits. We painted barns. We hauled rocks outa corn fields. We done just about everything there was but we usually had just enough to put gas in Poke’s pickup with a little left over for cokes or sometimes a movie over to the drive in.

The year I was sixteen, Poke solved our money problems with an idea that was so perfect it woulda taken your breath had ya been there with us and been a money hungry teenager. I’d have never thought of it. I don’t think Dinnie would’ve either. It took someone whose mind worked like Poke’s. According to Poke it was the perfect scheme, scheme bein’ one of his new words. It was legal he reckoned . It would bring in the cash for a considerable length of time instead of just a one day thing. And….most of all, it would be a hoot. Now, when Poke says it’ll be a hoot you got to stop and do some serious considerin’. Poke sayin’ somethin’s a hoot is like someone from Alabama sayin’, ‘Hey ya’ll, watch this!’ Nothing good can happen.

I know it was Spring, must’a been that first weekend in March ‘cause we weren’t in school. We was settin’ on my back porch and it was rainin’ cats and dogs so there weren’t much we could do that Saturday. As usual we was discussin’ how we could make us some money when Poke allowed as how he had an idea. This rain was gonna make us some money for sure. See, in these parts come Spring it starts rainin’ and it keeps rainin’ through to June usually. Carney Creek runs fairly steady and deep for ‘bout three full months. Why’s that important? Well, Vester Hollow Road runs directly up between two ridges for about 12 miles. Six of the largest farms in the county are located on Vester Hollow Road including my daddy’s. Carney Creek crosses Vester Hollow Road seven times and there ain’t no bridges and that, folks, is where we come in. Even though the county paved the road near five years ago, they didn’t put in no bridges over the creek. They just paved up to the creek crossing, went to the other side and took up paving again. Guess they was plannin’ on comin’ back but they hadn’t yet. When it starts in rainin’ in March and the creek gets up it takes some doin’ to travel up and down Vester Hollow without getting’ stuck and Vester Hollow is near ‘bout the busiest country road you’d ever want to see what with feed trucks, fuel trucks, milk trucks, salesman and such comin’ and goin’ all the time.

Poke’s plan was that we’d set up a business of pullin’ folks out of the creek when they got stuck. We’d take Poke’s daddy’s old Massey-Ferguson tractor and park ourselves at the third crossin’ which was always the worst. The way Poke figured, we could charge $2 for cars and $5 for trucks. Semis would be $10 but we usually don’t get too many of them. Dinnie and me didn’t see how we was gonna make a killin’ ‘cause most folks seemed to be able to plow through the creek just fine with a few exceptions but Poke assured us folks was gonna be getting’ stuck. With the way it had set in to rainin’ already he said it was a sure thing. We decided we’d give it the week we was out of school for Spring break and decide if it was worth it or not.

I’ll be dang if Poke wasn’t right. That first Saturday alone we made $40 in less than four hours. We pulled 10 cars and 4 trucks out of the creek and not a one of them drivers griped about the fee. Couple even offered us more but we turned down the extra. We didn’t wanta jinx a good thing. By the followin’ Saturday we’d made close to $200 and we was dang near giddy. That is, all but Poke. He was draggin’ and looked like he ain’t slept in days. He’d drive the tractor while Dinnie and I waded the creek to hook up the pull-chain. Once we had the vehicle out Poke would just set there with his head down on the steering wheel. Once or twice he even fell asleep settin’ there in the rain.

Startin’ into the second week of our new enterprise Poke allowed as how he didn’t think he could keep it up. Poke had the easiest job of us three. All he had to do was set there and drive and Dinnie and me told him so. That’s when we found out why Poke was so sure folks would be getting’ stuck. He explained that every evening when we quit towin’ folks and went home, he’d come back with his Pop’s front-end loader and dig out that crossing a little deeper and add five or six bucket loads of mud to the mix. He was buildin’ us a mud trap just like the police’d set up a speed trap. Folks just couldn’t help but get themselves stuck. Did I feel a little guilty? Sure I did but, I was a kid and money was money. We actually ran the business for the next three Springs before folks caught on. Surprisingly, nobody got mad. Fact is most had a good laugh and thought we’d pulled a good one over on ‘em. All but my daddy. He didn’t think it was too funny and claimed that if I’d still had the money he’d make me find all the folks I’d taken it from and give it back. No matter what we wanted to call it, stealin’ was stealin’.

I’d just graduated from college when the county finally put in the missin’ bridges. To this day Deerflat folks refer to the bridge over the third crossing as the Mud Bridge. I don’t know which one did it, Dinnie or Poke, but there’s a professional made sign on each side of that bridge that says, ‘Mud Bridge - $2 for Cars, $5 for Trucks’. Even now, when I visit my folks and make that third crossing, I’m sixteen years old again.