Shaggy Pony Story
Posted: Mon Jul 26, 2004 10:16 pm
I have a coworker that loves shaggy dog stories, but his was a horse of a different color:
A salesman had been sent to a new territory to sell farm equipment accessories. The location happened to be in the wide open land of Montana. He was driving from one small town to the next small town, and decided to take a scenic route shown on his map as an "improved road". He had been driving on the road over gently rolling terrain with little beside grass and the occasional tree for some time, when, as he started up a hill, the car sputtered, lurched and died.
He was a bit concerned. He had been driving for several hours without seeing so much as a house, and it had proven almost impossible to keep track of where he was on the map. To top it off, the sun was sliding rapidly toward the horizon.
He lifted the hood, but could see no obvious problem. He went to the trunk to get his small tool kit, and found it was not there. He recalled leaving it in his wife's car when they had made a recent weekend trip in her vehicle. In the gathering gloom, he went to the "glove" box to get a flashlight. When he flick the switch, the wan light reminded him he had not purchased the spare batteries he had intended to get. He peered under the hood with the rapidly dimming flash and in the gathering dusk. The the flash went dark.
Just at that moment, a deep voice said "It's either your carb or your fuel pump." Startled, the salesman rapped his head on the hood of the car as he tried to stand up and see who was speaking. He saw no one, just a couple of horses, one palomino, and one paint. He looked around and asked, "Who said that"? The paint horse sort of tossed his head and said "That would be me. You need to take that useless flashlight and tap your carb. Maybe that will release the float if that's the problem."
The salesman was mystified by the talking horse, but followed direction and tried the car. It immediately started, and though it ran a bit rough, he was able to drive the next 15 miles to a small town. The town consisted of a garage/gas station, a general store, and a bar with attached hotel. He decided first things first, and since the station was closed he entered the bar and asked for a drink.
He was still stunned by his encounter with the horse, and kept thinking about it and muttering to himself, doubting his sanity. A grizzled rancher nursing a drink a few stools down from him asked "Say young fella, why are you in such a state?" So, the salesman told him the whole sorry tale.
The old timer thought for a bit, then said, "the horse that gave you the advice, it was the paint wasn't it?" "Yes" says the salesman in some releif, "You know these horses"? "Oh yeah," says the rancher, "and your lucky it was the paint talking. That dumb blonde palamino don't know nothing about cars"!!!!
A salesman had been sent to a new territory to sell farm equipment accessories. The location happened to be in the wide open land of Montana. He was driving from one small town to the next small town, and decided to take a scenic route shown on his map as an "improved road". He had been driving on the road over gently rolling terrain with little beside grass and the occasional tree for some time, when, as he started up a hill, the car sputtered, lurched and died.
He was a bit concerned. He had been driving for several hours without seeing so much as a house, and it had proven almost impossible to keep track of where he was on the map. To top it off, the sun was sliding rapidly toward the horizon.
He lifted the hood, but could see no obvious problem. He went to the trunk to get his small tool kit, and found it was not there. He recalled leaving it in his wife's car when they had made a recent weekend trip in her vehicle. In the gathering gloom, he went to the "glove" box to get a flashlight. When he flick the switch, the wan light reminded him he had not purchased the spare batteries he had intended to get. He peered under the hood with the rapidly dimming flash and in the gathering dusk. The the flash went dark.
Just at that moment, a deep voice said "It's either your carb or your fuel pump." Startled, the salesman rapped his head on the hood of the car as he tried to stand up and see who was speaking. He saw no one, just a couple of horses, one palomino, and one paint. He looked around and asked, "Who said that"? The paint horse sort of tossed his head and said "That would be me. You need to take that useless flashlight and tap your carb. Maybe that will release the float if that's the problem."
The salesman was mystified by the talking horse, but followed direction and tried the car. It immediately started, and though it ran a bit rough, he was able to drive the next 15 miles to a small town. The town consisted of a garage/gas station, a general store, and a bar with attached hotel. He decided first things first, and since the station was closed he entered the bar and asked for a drink.
He was still stunned by his encounter with the horse, and kept thinking about it and muttering to himself, doubting his sanity. A grizzled rancher nursing a drink a few stools down from him asked "Say young fella, why are you in such a state?" So, the salesman told him the whole sorry tale.
The old timer thought for a bit, then said, "the horse that gave you the advice, it was the paint wasn't it?" "Yes" says the salesman in some releif, "You know these horses"? "Oh yeah," says the rancher, "and your lucky it was the paint talking. That dumb blonde palamino don't know nothing about cars"!!!!
Guilty as charged. I was depressed for a week at the thought of not getting my daily Far Side fix when Larson anounced his imminent semi-retirement. However, I can also understand how therapy might make the needed bent perspective difficult to achieve. 
