I started my Saturday with the hopes of doing a
shit load moderate amount of yard work. I originally imagined myself buying some soil and some additional retaining wall stones in order to get my front flower garden level and looking good. But with my neck in its present state, I would need some help. So I got the boys, who were none too pleased about my ambitious plans and loaded them into the Range Rover. I thought we would be going to one of the area home improvement stores and loading up with dirt and stones and that task required the Range Rover.
Much to my son and nephew’s approval, my wife vetoed the purchase for now. I was already set on taking the Range Rover out for a spin and decided to take it to Ellison’s Feed Store to pick up industrial weed and grass killer and some fertilizer for my rose bushes. At least I could get that done.
When I backed out of the drive way and stopped we heard a loud bang from the back. I thought for sure I had either backed into a car or a kid’s bicycle I did not see. I got out and looked around but did not see anything obvious.
Ellison’s is one of the last and few “old fashioned” feed stores. You remember the ones, where there are ample young men standing around waiting for directions to load this or that into your truck or car. Where you can still buy locally made honey, plant fertilizer, a tomato plant or two, a salt lick, chicken scratch and a lead for your horse all in one stop. As I got out of the Rover I said, “Are you boys coming in?”
“No.” and “Nope.” were their replies.
I said, “This is the last of the old-timey feed stores, don’t you want to experience that?”
“Uh, no.” was all I got back.
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I have some seriously fond memories of the feed store from my youth. My dad would take us along mostly to get us out from under mom’s feet and for the shear fact that I believed he liked riding around with us. That last bit might be a stretch but it’s what I remember. So we would jump into the 1967 Chevy pickup, three on the tree, no seat belts and head to the feed store to grab some alfalfa, oats and sometimes some tack. We would almost always get to buy a popsicle from the cooler.
So it was almost always a great trip to the feed store. Today that feed store is Boyer Veterinary Clinic. They haven’t lost all their old-timey feed store-ness. In the back is Oklahoma Tack and Supply.
Back to the modern era and Ellison’s. So I went in…alone…and grabbed some rose bush fertilizer and some industrial strength weed and grass killer.
I use this stuff as liquid edger. I spray it at the base of the fence in my yard. It kills everything and saves me tons of time by not having to use the weed eater every time I mow. I have to apply it three times during the summer which is cheaper than the string on my weed wacking device.
While I was in the the store I saw some stone grills. Boy did those bring back fond memories.
We had one of these growing up and there is nothing like them when it comes to grilling. My dad bought two of these while we were on Guam. He left one in the crate so he could ship it back to Oklahoma with us. I think the last time it was used was around 1974. It sits on my parent’s back porch to this day. It has seen better days and I am afraid to move it. But after hearing what it would cost to replace it today, around 1000$(US), for the same size, maybe I should arrange to get it to my house.
Well, I’d had enough of the ambiance of the feed store and needed to get my able hands back to the hacienda, Casa de Okie Rover, and to work. I came out and gloated a bit with, “You don’t know what you are missing.”
We got out on the road and headed home. We had to explain to Zach, my nephew, why the Range Rover is such a special vehicle instead of a “piece of crap” as he saw it. I think he is clearer on the issue now. Considering his age and the fact he has never ridden in a car that had leather seats, let alone cost more new than any place he has ever lived, we cut him a little slack and decided to educate him. We got home and I had the boy’s mowing and pulling weeds in short order.
Sunday I found myself back out in the drive way and I decided to look under the Rover to find the source of the bang. Thinking I’d see a loose shock or something else I proceeded to poke around. Thankfully it was something else. I grabbed the exhaust and gave it a good shake. It was unusually loose in the back. And after further investigation I found it. A broken exhaust hanger.
It can wait until I get the Rover either over to the Evil German Dude’s house or up to Jag Guy’s shop to have it welded back in place. I could always take it back to University Muffler and I’m sure they would fix it too. But that would not be as fun as EGD or JagGuy’s places and the comradery that goes along with them.
Thanks for reading and Happy Rovering.