June 17, 2009

Tragicomedy

The Comedy of the Cliff

Perhaps deceiving, this image shows the crashwagon in peril, perched at the edge of a ditch better described as a cliff.

It was 9 a.m. when I arrived at a train bridge to photograph volunteers repainting a mural. With the 55 mph highway in mind, I strayed far onto the shoulder before parking. Forty minutes later, my rear-wheel drive was coaxing the back of my wagon over the edge of a 15-foot embankment full of vegetation and trees. I paused, reoriented my wheels and made one more effort. I envisioned a barrel roll into the bush: a foolhardy destruction. And I called it quits and called a tow truck.

Meanwhile ...

The Comedy of Lynchburg
Katie's new N-V position (which comes with an office) is not without its share of new never-seen co-workers at the printing press some 60 miles away. But before today -- a day featuring the Comedy of the Cliff and chicken burned by crock pot -- she had never made clear how awesome the faceless pressman might be.

Known only by voice, they are: H.T. Bear, Allen, Larry, and Larry (who goes by Allen).

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3 Comments:

Blogger StewieChris said...

Glad the 'wagon survived.

June 17, 2009 at 9:53 PM 
Blogger Chase Purdy said...

Haha!

Glad it's safe.

June 18, 2009 at 12:14 AM 
Blogger JHitts said...

I thought you passed the wagon on to your brothers and it died. Maybe I was mistaken.

This is golden, though.

June 18, 2009 at 12:20 AM 

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