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Interestin Development

I witnessed an interestin development of another type with one of the neighbors. I guess we'll call him TG{TAILGATER} I have recently had the displeasure of his favorite passtime. Started with one of my kids coming home and tellin me about some guy{TG} practically pushin them halfway home on our little two lane country road. Kid was visually upset which caused old Jim to become concerned. My kid bein cooler headed than her old man, pulls over at a safe spot and the TG displays some hand signals as he flys by. The very next mornin, old Jim is front and center at the TG's driveway. I explain the possible ramifications of the next encounter me and TG might have over him wanting to tailgate some member of my family. While I was sayin a bunch of stuff he didn't want to hear, it looked like he had a bunch of stuff to say too, but didn't. So I ended up by givin a description of our cars and tellin him how I would appreciate him not tailgatin em no more. Well, I forgot to give him a description of my truck,which is entirely my fault. It's been a while now, and the weather here is cold and clear. I headed out early on a emergency call and noticed right away that the roads was slick in some spots. I also noticed that ve-hicles comin in the opposite direction was travelin mighty slow, which led me to further deduce that the roads was slick. So I'm idlein along, hardly slidin at all, and look in the rear view and here is the windshield of the TG's Wife's car, with the TG at the wheel. I say windshield cause that's all you could see. The front of the car with all of it's fancy driven lights that's about as bright as the sun, was hidden under the tailgate of my truck. I realized right away that I blew the description thing and pulled gingerly over to the right and let the TG go by at the first chance I could, which was about a mile or so. During that mile, the TG showed off by displaying how close he could get without actually hitting old Jims truck, while flashing them drivin lights and honkin the horns and givin out some hand signals too. I felt that the display was over the top. Since I had absently minded left out my trucks description in our previous discussion, I knew I had to let this encounter slide. I also knew by past driving experience that the slickest road in the county is the one we was on and the slickest portion of the slickest road in the county was just over the next rise. Now the TG was showin off the acceleration capabilites of the Honda Pilot and was probably doin about 60 when he went over the rise. As I topped the rise, it was just in time to see the TG slidin backwards up the bank on the oncomming side of the road where he removed the bumper and took the temper out of the rear glass with a power pole that the utility guys had expertly placed in the perfect location to help slow down the TG. The impact threw the TG clean across the road to my side and its lucky for him that some farmer put all them fenceposts and barbed wire down there in the ditch to cushion the TG's impact with the earth down there. He handlely rolled the Honda a couple times to distribute the dents all over evenly. I had to mark off a few points for the display cause the car ended up on its'side and not its wheels. Afterward his eyes was all big and his skin was really pale, I tried to get him to lye still but he eventually crawled up the side of the road and tried to bleed all over. My buddies from the firehouse was there in three of four minutes to haul him off. Kind of made my day. I would like to be a fly on the wall when he told his wife what he did to her car.
 
Well, well, well, its a new season at the ramp but still an old Jim. Been pretty quiet at the ramp but as the weather begins to heat up, so does the action at the ramp. After the Shark screwed up the Mate, I've had her at home instead of the russian guys house with the private dock. Seen the homeless guy down at the ramp when the sun comes out but he wisely stays clear of O'Jimway. Gonna snap a pic of him next time so I can share. Seems like ole Jim is becoming known by a coupla folks down at the lake who seem to enjoy some casual banter and hijinks. Several of the folks are involved in keepin an eye on the day to day happinings around the lake and although they are quick to yell at old Jim for a minor infraction in the speed limit department or nowake zone areas and are still requesting a reduction in the noise level commin out the back of the Mate, I can tell they now consider me part of the group. After a speed run they will say somethin like "Slow down darn you" "Now what impellor are ya runnin today?" "Gosh darn it thet thangs awfull loud but she sure's flyin this season" "Dammit boy, what you done to the motor now?" I'm regalein the group with the story of me and RD's possible future matchup. They are always interested in a good story and listen intently and shake their heads in agreement. I described up old Daves Sugary Sand and told em about that built v-6 with a outdrive possibly bein dripped in there, excuse me, dropped in there, along with some dual or possible tripple turbine superchargeders from his affluent buddy and counter rotating props or maybe even a surface drive system and thier eyes get big and there has been a firestorm in the group disscussion about who might come out in front. Recently, down at the ramp, there has been some fishin goin on right from the dock unfortunatly. This is a infraction of the rules, which are posted on a big sign right there next to where they was sittin in their fold up camping chairs. I pointed this infraction out to the surly fisherman who I didn't recognize. As I unloaded the vessel and tied her quickly to a cleat, I helpfully explained the ramifications of fish line bein sucked into the jet drive on the Mate to deaf and completely uninterested ears. Experienced fishermen at the ramp normally reel in their lines when Jim shows up. With a smile on my mug, I wished all a good day while they smugly sat there and one of them, a rather large fella with a size 48 jacket but size 4 hat, was able to coax a chuckle from his cohorts by making a comment concerning the pink stripe on the Mate and telling me to "get lost before I use ya for bait" After idling carefully away, I run her for a few minutes to get some heat built up and then came roaring slowly up toward the dock where them guys was. The fishermen took no notice what so ever as the regular, experienced fishermen picked up thier stuff and moved safely out of range. I'm still amazed and impressed at how much water a Sport Jet will throw out it's backside. With a little practice, even a novice like me can wash down the length of a dock effortlessly. Indeed, a well placed five inch diameter stream of high pressure water can send an open plastic tackle box tumbling at high speed, to say nothing of surly fishermen, or igloo coolers. Fold up campchairs are like a leaf in the wind when subjected to high pressure water. "Fishbait huh?" "I'll show em fishbait."
 
I must admit to having practised the art of dock washdown during the off season, when, on many occasions, I'm the only one, or one of very few, out on the lake. Succesive runs at the dock with particular attention paid to location of vessel in relation to dock, vessel speed, vessel loading, fuel on board, angle of nozzle, various throttle settings, target locations on the dock itself, and angle of entry and exit on attack runs, have resulted in being capable of placing several gallons of lake water where I figure they will do the most good. With malice aforethought, I even procured a toy tape recorder that can be used to playback various pre recorded audio like the theme to Star Wars, or Frank Sinatra singing "I did it my way" through the amplifier on the boat. I also rigged up an anchor and water brake system. The anchor can be used to entangle any fishing line and lures and bait and tackle on the same pass that is depositing loads of lake water in the direct vicinity of the dock. The water brake is nothing more than a five gallon plastic bucket drug through the water behind the boat, used to slow the vessel down on it's attack run, and to provide a more stable gun platform and increase the length of time on the target. Without the bucket or two, the mate will accelerate away rather quickly. An unfortunate necessity when using the adjustable nozzle is the required absence of the reverse bucket on the Sport Jet. A notch would have to be cut into the reverse bucket to provide clearence for the nozzle, and I dont want to cut up the original parts. Without the reverse bucket, there is no way to slow or stop the boat. The regular fishermen at the dock have witnessed the practice runs and know what to expect. Indeed, a truce is in effect. Even though the docks are posted no fishing, the fishermen contain thier activities to one end of the dock area while the boaters use the other side. In this fashion, harmony exists between the fishermen and boaters, and a good time is generally experienced by all. Once in a while, however, there can be a disruption in the harmony, usually involving the poor behaviour, bad language, and generally poor sportsmanship of a fisherperson. Often times, the regulars will attempt to educate the rude aggressive angler who may be in the vicinity of the occasional attractive speed boat. The regulars are actually somewhat lazy and dont want to have to pick up themselves and thier gear and run to the parking lot to escape the deluge. They do however, like to see a fresh victim 'take the plunge' so to speak. Especially if said fresh victim is a surly, dirty, drunk, smelly, loud mouthed, foul mouthed, aggressive wretch of a bully. Even as the bully started in as soon as I was depositing the Mate into the water, the regulars were taking note of my actions with interest and a twinkle in thier eyes....
 
As I returned to the dock area, I stopped to prepare for an attack run. This consists of tossing the buckets out astern and dropping the anchor over the side of the vessel closest to the dock. I must lay down across the engine hatch to reach the controls for the nozzle because it is in it's early stages of modification and does not have any hydrolic actuators yet. The surly bully fisherman took this opportunity to re-engage in berating Old Jim. Several uncouth remarks were made about pink stripes, old age, sexual preference, and a viscious attack that was going to commence If I were to return to the dock. It seemed that every other word of the surly fishermans vocabulary was a curse word, and not the regular versions often heard, but these were the extreme heavy duty high performance models. In a calm and reassuring way, I tried to talk to the surly fisherman, explaning the existance of tender ears in the immediate vicinity of his toilet mouth, the difference in shade of pink and flamingo, and my limit of nonsense. My request of an appology was met with a single finger held high in salute and an obligatory two words, sung out loud and strong. I explained to the surly fisherman that in response to his offer, that I was uninterested in relations with him. This ellicited laughter from the crowd. The surly fisherman and one of his cohorts did not notice the regular crowd picking up thier belongings and moving toward the parking lot. One of the other cohorts quietly picked up his stuff and followed the regulars to the parking lot with a questioned look on his brow and then looked on with concern as one of the regulars shook his hand, and then started to explain what was about to happen. A smart man, I thought of this cohort, in tune with his surroundings, and observant, and likely to stay dry too. The cohort started to smile. Again I asked the surly fisherman if he thought now might be a good time to appologize, "like I know you are going to". His face turned dark. He requested my presence on the dock, loudly. He threw down his jacket and doubled his fists, his biceps knotted up like grapefruit. I turned on the Star Wars theme right after I told him "I'll be right there" The surly fisherman stated that he was going to place his foot against my posterior as he came running down the dock, using his knuckles for propulsion, to where Old Jim was lineing up the attack run. One of the regulars standing at the parking lot elbowed the knowledgable cohort in the ribs and pointed in our direction. It was all smiles in the parking lot as I stood up for a moment to salute the onlookers. I sat back down at the controls and plyed the Mate at the dock while directing a stream of water at the dock, some tackle boxes, a coupla of fold up chairs, but mostly at the surly fisherman, who wore a surprised look on his face. As his deck chair flew into the lake, and his tackle box emptied its contents on the dock, the surly fisherman flew into a rage. I now understand the meaning of 'spitting mad', having seen it displayed right there in front of me. It was most impressive. More impressive, I thought, was the several thousand gallons of lake water spewed forth from the rear of the attractive speed boat....
 
Jimway needs to write a book... this guy can tell a story and keep the audience coming back for more:cheers:

The story of Ol' Jimway:D

"A tale of sugar N' sand and flamingo stripes"
 
Hundreds of gallons of lake water cascaded all over the surly fisherman and filled up pockets, pants, and shoes. It sizzled and foamed and ran off the length of the dock as I shut off the Mate in preparation for phase II of the attack. Since the surly fisherman was temporarily silenced by the unexpected downpour, I siezed the opportunity to land a couple of verbal jabs. "I must admit, you clean up nicely" I said. "I recognize you now". "Straight forhead, protruding brow, short and robust build, prominant chin, 1600 cc brain, you are Cro-Magnon man". "All right, who left the cage open?" I asked of the crowd. "Are your parents siblings?" I asked of the surly fisherman. "I'll give you this Sir", I said, "You have a loud bark, did you get this from your mothers side?" Right about here the surly fisherman began to call me every name he could come up with. The adjectives sizzled and foamed and ran off of the length of me like a flood. He was respectably creative, but the string of obsenities spewed forth was considerable. So was the volume level of the raging surly fisherman. From my position, I could see that the surly fishermans tirade against Jim had been detected by a serious looking young man in a blue looking suit that was now making his way toward the dock at a brisk walk. As the surly fisherman would every once in a while stop for a quick breath, I would add fire to the blaze with a one liner like, " I see there is still no vaccine against stupidity" "I would request that you be yourself, but that would be bad advice on my part" " Now that I am closer, I can hear the ocean." The surly fisherman described in detail how he would break various pieces of old Jim. Indeed, as the one liners fell from my mouth, the surly fisherman went from describing an aggressive, viscious, and complete attack on the person of Ole Jim, to threats of my immenant demise. "Surely you jest sir" I stated to the surly raging fisherman. "I would like to see things from your point of view, but I am unable to place my head that far up my..."(I'll let you, the reader, finish this little gem). "Apparently you have an IQ of two, pity it takes three to grunt" "I'm Sorry" I stated loudly to the surly fisherman,"All of this arguing has set me on edge" "Perhaps we could find a better way to end all of this hostility?" "I know, let's have a spelling contest!" The Surly fishermans eyes, viens, muscles, and tongue bulged out, but I could see that he was tiring fast. I reached down and gingerly(there is that word again) pulled in the anchor and grabbed up the lures that were wrapped around it. In his present fit of anger, the surly fisherman reached down into his cooler and threw a bottle at me. It fell just short of my position. I momentarily started the Mate and reached down to grab the bottle, then I shut her off again. It was a Miller Genuine Draft, which I held up and said, "Does this mean we are friends again?" to the surly fisherman who had ducked down as the Mate started. The surly fishermans response, if translated, was to the effect of, no how, no way, were we ever gonna be friends. I was sad, but for only a moment. "Would you consider appologizing now?" I boldly asked the surly fisherman. He declined. "Since we can't be friends any longer", I said sadly, "I guess I will be unable to return your fishing pole to you." I should state here that I had been slowly reeling up the lines from the surly fisherman and his cohort, that had been caught up by the anchor. All eyes questionly fell upon the attractive new fish poles as I expertly tugged them into the lake. Sploosh, they said, as the poles sank from sight. In the crowd, eyebrows raised, and mouths fell open. The surly fisherman fell silent. "If you could find it in your heart to say, I'm Sorry," I crooned at the surly, but quiet fisherman, "I will hand you the end of these lines so that you may retrieve your poles from the depths. "Otherwise, I shall travel to the middle of the lake and cast off the lines in the deepest part of the lake that I can find, and thereby deprive you and your friend of your reels and poles" "Now what say you to my generous proposition?" I asked the surly fisherman expectantly.....
 
Jim you are a crazy S.O.B. challenging this man. Use caution if this is where you launch as a playmate trailer behind a Ranger with Checkmate stickers is probably easy to pick out in the lot.
 
Point well taken, but fear not my friend, Imagine, if you will, a small powerhouse of a man being held at arms length by a rather large, tall, and not unattractive, stately, grayhaired gentleman( I use this term loosly), as the smaller man swings repeatedly at thin air while the larger gentleman holds the smaller guys head in his grip and begins to increase pressure of said considerable grip, all the while considering using other empty hand to place around throut of smaller guy for reason of checking for pulse and respiration.
 
In the case of the RG, it would be his friend, the younger, larger, stronger, brother of Dolph Lundgren, who always stays close to RG except when he drives the RG's SHSIW around in RG's Jeep. Doesn't say much but communicates with eyes, gestures with fingers ,hands, and head and arms. A comanding, sobering presence, whenever he is in the neighborhood. Smiles briefly now whenever he sees big Jim....
 
The surly fishermans wet cohort friend stepped forward and said "Wha, wha ,wha, wait." "I'd like to have my pole back" he said to me. "I appologize for all of this unpleasantness." I said quickly. The serious young man in the blue looking suit pushed thru the crowd of dry happy fishermen. "Hold it right there!" he said. "Did you notice that the Miller Genuine Draft bottle floated, but the fishing poles did not?" I asked and looked quizingly at the two fishermen. The serious looking young man turned out to be the park policeman. He wasn't happy at all about the language that the surly fisherman had been sharing. I sat down with a sigh and extended my hands toward the surly fisherman, palms up, as if I were handing him the stage, as it were. He wasted no time in weaving a tall tale about how I had been the root of all evil. I sat on the portion of the Mate just behind the seat back with one leg hanging over the port side while I reeled in the reels. I wisly kept my mouth shut, even as the surly fisherman uttered some untruths concerning the days outcome of events so far. The serious looking young police officer had to ask the surly fisherman to watch his language several times. I felt things 'turn for the worst' when the serious young man asked the surly fisherman "Have you been drinking today Sir?" The reels came up easily and I asked of the surly fishermans co hort "Which one of these is yours?" "The blue one's mine" he said happily. I dropped the red one back into the lake. The serious young man looked directly at me and said "We could have done without that" with disgust. "It's all his fault," I said as I pointed at the surly fisherman," he has not said he is sorry" I stated as I crossed my arms in front of me and let them fall against my chest. "Did you hear me appologizing when you got here?" I asked the serious young man. His eyes narrowed as he looked at me. He did not reply. The surly fisherman described being blown off the dock by the attractive speed boat. The serious young man looked at Jim. I smiled coyly and batted my eyes at him. He looked out across the lake as if he were wishing he was somewhere else, anywhere but here, in this moment. His fingers carressed the handle of his billy club. "I feel your pain, officer" I said. May I say that I think you are doing a hell of a job and deserve a round of well deserved applause from those of us who truly appreciate a job well done" I added. "Shut up" said the serious young man to me, with appreciation. The serious young man related the possible ramifications of being drunk in a public park and using crude language and creating a spectacle and assualt and battery. The surly fisherman appeared to sober up from this buzz kill and came to have a sad look on his face. "May I tell my side of the story now?" I asked expectantly. "I have witnesses" I added authoritativly. "No" said the serious young man. "You may not." "Oh, that's a shame" I said quietly. Right about here is when two more serious looking young men pulled up in a prowl car...
 
The two new serious looking young men came directly down the dock and quickly confered with the original serious looking young man. Shortly, the new serious looking young man with all of the stripes on his shoulder turned his attention to me. He asked me to bring the boat and myself to the dock, as I was floating a small distance from the dock. "I like it right here", I stated. "Besides, he wont let me tell my side of the events that transpired, and he might attempt to inflict bodily injury upon myself" I said as I pointed first at the original serious looking young man and then to the sad looking surly drowned fisherman. I stowed the anchor and buckets in preperation of getting underway. "Get over here" said stripes. "I feel safer here" I said. I quickly went over the mornings events with the most emphisis on the bad behaviour of the surly fisherman, and minimum emphisis on any of my alleged actions. Stripes listened intently. When I finished, he asked if I had been drinking. "Why yes officer" I stated. "I try to keep myself well hydrated on a wonderful warm day such as this" I added. "I meant have you had any alcoholic beverages today sir" said stripes seriously. "That would be a violation of the park rules" I said. "I know" said stripes. "Dont make me come and get you" said stripes. "Would you swim for it or can you walk on water?" I foolishly asked. I could tell that I had gone too far. Stripes tone became cold and to the point. I moved the Mate to the dock. I reeled the surly fishermans pole back in and held it back as the two new serious looking young men lifted me right out of the Mate by my shoulders and deposited me on the dock. "Say your sorry" I said to the surly fisherman. "I'm sorry" said the surly fisherman, as he grabbed his pole and raised it above his head, and hit old Jim across the noggin with it. It hardly hurt at all. The three serious looking young men leaped into all kinds of action. I wisely stepped back. "I tried to warn you about this" I said to stripes as I shook my head sadly. I think you should check him for wants and warrants" I said mater of factly. Stripes grabbed my hand, put his index finger to his lips and said "Shhh." We walked back toward the parking lot. As we were walking past the surly fisherman, the first serious looking young man asked the surly fisherman "How'd it feel when you cracked him in the head?" I glanced at the surly fisherman and he had an evil grin on his face....
 
I guess the good news is you're telling the story which means you were let off or are out on bail awaiting your court date.
 
Kind of hate to cut this one short but the upsetting outcome of it is that stripes said that I cant use the park boat launch for a month. I dissagree with this ruling, but felt that a wise man sometimes knows when to clam up. The surly fisherman had missed a prior date with a Judge and the three serious looking young men were happy to escort the surly fisherman to the courthouse so that the surly fisherman could indeed speak to the Judge(wonder if he'll talk to the judge the way he talked to me?), I think they call that a 'failure to appear', so much for his weekend. Stripes was nice enough to help me immediatly pull the Mate from the water, load it on it's trailer, and even stopped trafic so I could exit the park, in his words, " Without a sound. " As you might immagine, this was tough to do. As I was leaving, I did say quietly to the original serious looking young man, "For a moment back there I thought you were going to hit me with your billy club" "For a moment back there, I was" he said with a sigh. Fortunatly for me, mums the word on using the rest of the lake, as they only specified my absence from the park for the month. Still, I shall keep a low profile for a while...
 
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