To The Anonymous Poster and Truck U. 3

I was content on settling in tonite with a brandy and a snuggle with Kitty by the fireplace. Envisioning the two of us roasting marshmallows and reading a few verses from Keats. And afterwards discussing the imminent threats of global warming, social security, voter fraud, reinstitution of the draft, Iraq, and anything else that tickled our fancies. But not necessarily in any particular order.

But after reading THE first reply to my Truck U. series, I was compelled to work on Truck U. 3.
And without further adieu, here it is. And thanks to you, Francis Gottlieb, for helping to resuscitate the juices. And, yes, I remember you well. Remember the night we saw Steppenwolf at the Coliseum. Gol darn the pusher man, eh?

Truck U. 3:

Bogus Bob didn't go to Truck U. He joined the Navy after graduating from Rowdy High and the subsequent ditching by his girl friend who wanted "to see other people." Well, old Bogey said "ship ahoy" and joined the Navy.

The Vietnam War was in full throttle and back in tha day you either had to go to college or join the armed forces. Bob wasn't much for the books and he was ready to see the world. He was a fast typist and could manage 100 words per minute. And a singer of some renown he had played L'il Abner in Rowdy High's school play. I even had a brief part as the honourable Jack S. Phogburn. Ah, I remember it well. And my grand solo where I engaged the denizens of Dogpatch with:

"Of all the very ordinary
Must unloved unnecessary
Places on this earth
They settled on yourn
As sure as your born

They settled on yourn
Dogpatch!"

Ah, show biz. It was my 15 minutes of fame with all due respect to Andy Warhol. Altho I never graced the outside of a Campbell Soup can.

What about Bob? He went to Va. to do his basic training but would come home on the weekends to see the old gang. We'd make the bar scene, normally a haven for rednecks and middle-aged geezers, but they would sell us beer even tho we were underaged by about 3 years.

One night me, Keith, and Bogus stopped by a tavern and ordered draughts. I was uncomfortable and intimidated somewhat by the older crowd-what was I doing in a bar?-but immediately felt at ease when the patrons started lip-synching the words to Mungo Jerry's surprise hit. [ "In the Summertime" ] And they were really getting into the "Chh chh-chh, uh, chh chh-chh, uh Chh chh-chh, uh, chh chh-chh, uh..." part.

In the summertime when the weather's high,
you can stretch right up and touch the sky,
when the weather's fine,you got women,
you got women on your mind.

Have a drink, have a drive,
go out and see what you can find.
If her daddy's rich, take her out for a meal.
If her daddy's poor, just do as you feel.
Speed along the lane,
Do a ton, or a ton and twenty-five.
When the sun goes down, you can make it,make it good in a lay-by.

We're not grey people, we're not dirty, we're not mean.
We love everybody, but we do as we think.
When the weather's fine
we go fishing or go swimming in the sea.
We're always happy,life's for living, yeah, that's our philosophy.

Sing along with us, dee-dee-dee-dee-dee.
Da-da-da-da-da...Yeah, we're happy happy,
da-da-da-da-dah.
When the winter's here, then it's party time.
Bring a bottle, wear your bright clothes.
It'll soon be summertime, and we'll sing again,
we'll go drivin' or maybe we'll settle down.
If she's rich, if she's nice,
bring your friends and we'll all go into town.

Well, it was always an adventure when going out with Bogus. But soon he would be shipped to the middle east by way of Columbia, Africa, and parts unknown. His final destination would be Bahrain. There he would meet his wife, Andromeda, but that's getting ahead of ourselves. Plus, it's getting late.

"SEASON of mists and mellow fruitfulness,
Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;
Conspiring with him how to load and bless
With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eves run;
To bend with apples the moss’d cottage-trees,
And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;
To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells
With a sweet kernel; to set budding more,
And still more, later flowers for the bees,
Until they think warm days will never cease,
For Summer has o’er-brimm’d their clammy cells."

"Yes, Kitty. I will throw another log on yonder fire, my love. And, shirley, ode to Kitty 3 is on the horizon."

Farewell and adieu, v.c.