So anyway, the californy hillbilly turned 18 in 1966. He had been working after school and saving some money. He took 2 years of automechanics in high school and 6 months at the local votech after he finished high school. He was well versed in bailing wire and duct tape from his dad's brother who we all called Uncle Malarky. So he had put himself together a pretty nice 56 Chevy that could flat damn scream. He also could get the old Pontiacs, Desotos, Mercury's and whatever, running on an as needed basis. This came in handy with the moonshining. We never found out where he was making the stuff. $2.00 for a gallon, it was cheaper than beer and 1000 times the kick.
The fun really started when he wanted his own trailer on the farm. His dad and Uncle Malarky were OK with a single wide, but the californy hillbilly wanted a double wide, double tall. From Texas. Everybody said no, the county assessor would see it in the trees and want to come in and then everybody would get taxed. There was a lot of screaming and shouting and cussing, and the californy hillbilly fired up the 1946 international 2 ton flat bed and headed out to some little town in Texas that sold all sizes of trailers including my favorite, the classic triple wide. His pa yelled that he would want that flatbed truck in a week or so to get seed and fertilizer. We all knew he hadn't turned over a field in 20 years or so. He'd really get mad if you'd ask him what he was growing all those trees for.
In about a week the californy hillbilly showed up as a proud owner of one-half a double wide double tall trailer. We hadn't seen anything that new and shiney in probably our whole lifes. He took it up on the ridge and leveled off a spot with some ancient bulldozer that was so rusty and faded that nobody knew what kind it was. He borrowed some 12X12's from the railroad down by the river and we all helped him set one-half of his new home. He handed me his double barreled shotgun and told me to gaurd it until he got back.
This time he got back in 4 days. He said he didn't have to double back cause he knew where all the low bridges where. So we set the other half and had a little party. His pa, my pa and Uncle Malarky where still mad and did not come. He tapped the waterline and trenched a waterline up there and dug a pit and ran the plumbing out to it. Everybody started getting used to it and the grubby little town started talking annexation. More fun ahead.

A little history first

Maybe I should try to explain the history of the californy hillbilly a little bit. I am related to him so we have a common ancestory. From what has been figured out by great grandma and scribbled down by grandma, this is what we know. Our original forefather came to America as a hired soldier in the American Revolution. He was a German soldier hired by the British and deserted at Yorktown and went as far west as he could at the time. That would be Kentucky. He was one of 17 children. He had 15 children, 11 survived and had children. The next in line moved to western Missouri when it became a state in the 1820's. Other relatives followed and most lived in what is now Weston, Parkville and Platte City areas. These people didn't have plantations or slaves, they tried to get by. They believed fiercely in state's rights. The next in line had 13 children and they were around for the Civil War. When Kansas became a territory in 1854, all the men folk came to Kansas to claim land and to make sure Kansas did not become a free state. Grandma says that our great great grandpa and his brothers and cousins called themselves "Rangers" and killed free staters, stole horses and everything that wasn't bolted down and burned houses and barns. They claimed a lot of land and laid out a city named after an indian tribe that was pushed out. The city didn't make it. A few houses still remain. Several of our relatives were killed. After the war, our great grandpa got 160 acres through the homestead act in the 1870's. The farm has been handed down generation to generation ever since. In the 196o's, Grandpa bought the 160 acres next door. There are several houses on the farm, mostly on the ridges, in the trees, out of sight of the county government people. All of the tractors, combines, plows, trucks, wagons, manure spreaders, etc., that were ever bought were lined up in the old hemp field after they quit running. Cars too. I'd say at one time there were 10 acres or so of junk. The californy hillbilly and his dad bought a lot of junk trucks, tractors and cars and parked em out there and firmly believed that they could use em for parts someday. That is where the Falcon and the Desoto came from. So the Californy Hillbilly had a triple wide up in the hills. The grubby little town annexed the farm and the fight was on.

Not Sure

How do you all like that picture of that California Hillbilly? He used to live around this grubby little town but he got all preturbed and loaded up his triple wide and moved to an obscure part of Californy. Took him three trips. I'm not sure what he does out there, but by the look on his face, I'd say it's stronger than beer. He said he was picking weeds in a grape vine place for a while, but they caught on to his eating and taking the grapes. He said they weren't that good and they didn't go well with possum, grits or scraple. He used to moonshine in the hills around here. A gallon jug was two bucks. We tried it in our 1963 Ford Falcon Four Door, just to see what would happen, and it blew the engine up. We pulled the big butt motor out of a 1959 Desoto and put it in the Falcon, after much cussing and welding and stuff, that big butt motor would flat damn motor at about a 25% mix with premium. We were doing 140 miles per out on state 192 and Pa said that the Falcon sat in the field too long for that kind of fun and we had better slow down so the tobaccy spit wouldn't fly back in the car, and the front right wheel come off. "We rolled for half a mile and nearly broke our necks". Did you know that if you put some of that moonshine in a spray bottle, you could clean anything. Well, the missus is calling, sounds like the "Rabbit in the Pea Patch" call. We will talk about why the californy hillbilly got preturbed next time.

First time for everything

I thought that now that everybody is tired of the blogging and has moved on to the texting or whatever new technology has evolved, I would start a blog, so probably no one would notice or care. Oh well, if I come up with a good idea, I will sit down and write it out. Seen ya