Friday, January 23, 2009

Broadus VII - Big Country - Small World

Broadus is located in southeastern Montana. Miles City is 80 miles to the northwest. Belle Fourche, SD is 110 miles to the southeast. Sheridan, Wyoming 80 miles to the south. And the North Pole is to the north. There are little tiny towns scattered around. By towns, I mean intersections with names. Some of these intersections have a post office and/or a gas pump. All of them have a run down building, dust, and sagebrush. There are millions of acres like this, and thousands of square miles. You can seldom see a house from the main road. Every so often we would drive to Miles City just to be in civilization.

Well, I told you about our trip to Boyd and how we went off the road at a cattle gate. Well, that kind of messed up the car. So while we were in Miles City we pulled into a dealership. They had a nice white, '65 Pontiac Bonneville for $900. They gave me $300 for my old car and I drove away with payments of $43 per month. This was 1972, and that was a lot of money. We had faith. This was a beautiful car with strato bucket seats, four seasons air conditioning, power seats, and a 421 cubic inch engine. It used ethyl. That was no problem because ethyl was only 32 cents a gallon. And believe it or not, I got 21 mpg on the highway. This was sheer luxury. 

So, we bought the car and drove it straight home. Entering Broadus from the west was the residence of one of the families that attended our church. We decided to stop there and show off our car. When the lady of the house came to the door (Mrs. Grant), she said, "How do you like your new car?" I said, "How did you know we bought a car?" She said, "The postman was here a few minutes ago and told me about it." I said, "How does the postman know we bought a car?" She said, He was delivering at the dealership when you were in there buying it." I thought that the Pony Express was never that fast. I wondered what else everybody in town knew about our lives.

This is kind of the way it is in these small towns. Somebody knows about every breath you take, all the groceries you buy at the store, whether or not a skunk lives under your house, whether or not you shot the skunk, and if you did, they know exactly where you buried it. They even know where the empty shotgun shells landed. I think they all work for the CIA.

Next time I want to tell you about the "unfair mayor."

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