The Rural Voice, 1998-11, Page 6CHRYSLER DODGE
JEEP
HOME OF QUALITY
USED VEHICLES
Jeep Country
6 Available
Ready for immediate deliver\
All New
'99 Grand Cherokee
-Are you ready for winter"
•
"We only sell the best
for less and
wholesale the rest"
CHRYSLER
DODGE
JEEP
DODGE TRUCKS
If you don't see what
you want, ask us, we'll
find it for you.
Sunset Strip,
Owen Sound
Ontario, N4K 5W9
(519) 371 -JEEP (5337)
1-800-263-9579
Fax: (519) 371-5559
•
4-
T
m
17
2 THE RURAL VOICE
Gisele
It's better to laugh .
It has been scientifically proven
that laughter is good medicine. After
last week I amend that statement to
read, "Laughter is good medicine if
you're doing the laughing and a bitter
dose if you're
on the butt end
of it."
The first big
Ha Ha occurred
very
innocently.
Grandma
Gisele espied
her new bike
lying where it
shouldn't. As
she mentally
stripped her
three
mechanically
Ireland
.. than be laughed at
Misery becomes
a laughing
matter
inclined grandsons naked, covered
them with honey and staked them to
an ant pile, she grabbed the
handlebars, vaulted on the bike with a
mighty push and catapulted over the
handlebars. She didn't notice the
wrench lying in the grass until she
came nose -to -nose with it as she was
checking out the root system of the
lawn.
Grandma Gisele expected Super
Wrench, and the audience from the
shop, to race over with splints and
bandages and offer to take her to the
emergency for X-rays and traction.
What she got was a mildly concerned
husband who saw I was still vocal
and moving, vainly trying to suppress
a huge grin. He complimented me on
my somersault. It was the best he'd
seen in a long time was his remark.
He took the wrench and unlocked the
brakes on the bike. The men in the
shop hid behind tractor tires and oil
barrels, holding their sides with
mirth. The antics of air borne Gisele
made good coffee break telling to
anyone who happened to be within
earshot. I was not amused.
Guffaw number two happened two
days later and the subject of much
merriment was Super Wrench. I liked
this one a lot better. We were picking
up freshly plucked cluckers at the
local chicken plucker's farm,
accompanied by Super Wrench. The
only reason he came along was
because I don't have the knack to
start what passes for a truck around
here. He claims I don't understand
"the old girl". Apparently neither
does he because when he turned the
key all he got was dead silence and a
very loaded look from me. He
twiddled and fiddled with no results.
"I'll have to get under the crusty old
thing" he finally conceded. Easier
said than done. The crawl space
under the truck was a lot smaller than
Super Wrench. To add to our
amusement, he had to begin at the
tailgate sinces the running boards
prevented front access.
The grunting was pretty good. The
groans became long and drawn out
and finally the colourful curses were
entertaining. As good spectators
should, we urged him on and gave all
kinds of what we thought was good
advice. The thanks we got were
unprintable. He finally wiggled out
and was successful. When he got
home our son asked him how come
he looked as if a herd of wild horses
had dragged him all over
Saskatchewan. Super Wrench just
grunted, but I told them, in vivid
detail. They thought it was funny.
Super Wrench was not amused.
The last fiasco nicely rounded off
the week. Two miles from home, on a
dark sideroad, dressed to attend a
wedding reception, our car died in the
middle of the road. Neither fiddling
nor twiddling revived it. When Super
Wrench eyed the crawl space
underneath it, dressed in his suit I
said a few choice words, something
like "don't even think it." The only
alternative was a romantic walk in the
moonlight after we'd shoved the gas
guzzler into the ditch. We both
figured someone would come along
momentarily and give us a lift. No
one did.
At first I took off my high heels
because walking was difficult. I put
them back on after the nylons were
shredded and the soles of my feet