# Found Some Writings...



## GASoline71 (Nov 17, 2010)

So I was diggin' through a pile of old Navy paperwork that I was gonna pitch in the "circular file 13", and thought I better go through it all in case there was something important.

Anyways... I found one page scribbled in pencil on the back of one of my PQS (Personell Qualification Standards) books from my first ship. It is titled... "The Big Doug". Some of it is barely legible since the pencil has faded from storage. It's only a few paragraphs... but I can remember when I was on 6 - 10 month deployments I used to write in my free time. I need to find the rest of my notebooks from past deployments... I use to write a lot about the woods, and there were 2 main characters. Jack and Marsh... 2 grizzled old wood ticks that had some good adventures.

So heres a taste... I was prolly 19 or 20 when I wrote all this stuff. So I gotta do some more diggin' to find more of it.

Enjoy!

Gary

*The Big Doug

“This one’s gonna be a #####.” Jack muttered to himself as he trampled through the thick underbrush. The big Douglas Fir he had to fall was the fifth tree of this size today. The big McCulloch 450 was heavy on his shoulder as he stumbled a bit on some wild berry vines at his feet. The saw didn’t make keeping his balance any easier.

He got to the base of the tree and looked up. “What a snarled up mess.” He said aloud. Plus the tree was leaning back away from the side hill, completely backwards from where his lay was.

“####…” He muttered. He turned back and faced the side hill, then pulled a pack of smokes out of his shirt pocket. “Hey Marshal! Marsh! Bring the jacks down here and a ####load of wedges!” Jack had wedges with him, just not enough. He lit a cigarette, and started swamping out the brush around the base of the tree with his axe.

The call came back down the hill, “On the way in five!”

Good, Jack thought to himself. Marsh can bang on wedges and work the jacks while he made the cuts with the saw. Hmm… saw. Might need the big one for this job. Tree was the biggest of the day. “Hey Marsh!” He called back up the hill.

“Yeah?” Marsh hollered back…

“Bring the gear drive. We might need it on this pig!”

“Okay!” Jack was glad he wasn’t packin’ that big SOB down the hill, plus a gunny sack with 2 jacks in it. The gear drive is a McCulloch 890 with a 50” bar on it. Marsh is a tough cookie. He’ll pack it all in one trip. Jack grinned at the thought of Marsh trudging through the brush, and over snags packin’ that thing. Looks like we will earn our pay today he thought.

Marsh made it down to Jack about 45 minutes later. Jack was sitting on a small stump puffing on another cigarette. “’Bout ####in’ time.” He said through a toothy grin, as smoke passed through his teeth as he exhaled. Marsh just shook his head, and set the saw and the jacks down. He stood and looked up the spar and had to hold his hardhat from falling of the back of his head as he craned his neck skyward. “Jesus Christ! Biggest tree on this hill! What do ya figure? About 7 feet across? Close to 200?”

“200 Easy.” Jack said.*


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## ChrisF (Nov 17, 2010)

Pretty cool, I like it. Keep it coming!


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## Greystoke (Nov 17, 2010)

Good piece of writin pard. Jack and Marsh remind me of some old boys that I have had the privilege of workng with.


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## STEVEGODSEYJR (Nov 17, 2010)

Man Gas......That is some good ####!! Don't stop it now!! Steve


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## RandyMac (Nov 17, 2010)

Good going Gary, hack out some more.


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## MacLaren (Nov 17, 2010)

Thats good man!


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## 056 kid (Nov 18, 2010)

cut it!


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## slowp (Nov 18, 2010)

Did they get the tree on the ground OK?


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## KD57 (Nov 18, 2010)

I liked it, and don't leave us hanging !! I want to see the tree on the ground.


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## Gologit (Nov 18, 2010)

Good stuff Gary. Clear and concise.


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## GASoline71 (Nov 18, 2010)

Hey thanks everybody! 

I have to find the rest. That was only one page I had scrawled out a long time ago. I'm diggin' for more... Plus when I find it, I have to type it all out. This stuff wasn't save to a computer... It was all hand written in notebooks.

Hopefully I have more to come soon!

Gary


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## hanniedog (Nov 18, 2010)

Need to find the rest of the story so we can see how it turned out.


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## KD57 (Nov 18, 2010)

GASoline71 said:


> Hey thanks everybody!
> 
> I have to find the rest. That was only one page I had scrawled out a long time ago. I'm diggin' for more... Plus when I find it, I have to *type it all out. * This stuff wasn't save to a computer... It was all hand written in notebooks.
> 
> ...



Thanks for taking the time to type it all out, I know it's difficult and takes a lot of time.


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## RandyMac (Nov 18, 2010)

Don't worry about finding the notebooks, you still have the stories, find the triggers, the memories will blossom.


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## GASoline71 (Nov 18, 2010)

Thanks Randy... your writing is what inspired me to look for the old notebooks. I should be able to drum some of the stories up from memory.

If not... maybe Jack and Marsh need to get their butts back out in the timber. 

Gary


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## slowp (Nov 18, 2010)

GASoline71 said:


> Thanks Randy... your writing is what inspired me to look for the old notebooks. I should be able to drum some of the stories up from memory.
> 
> If not... maybe Jack and Marsh need to get their butts back out in the timber.
> 
> Gary



They can't because they are in elk winter range. They'll have to wait until July at the earliest. Then it will be fire season and they'll be in hootowl. 
They can't win. 

I miss the column that used to appear in the Morton Journal, now The East County Journal. I think it was called, "_From The Back Of The Crew Bus_".
The end of every column was "Time to hit the brush." I think.


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## schmuck.k (Nov 18, 2010)

verry good gary look foreward for more


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## RandyMac (Nov 18, 2010)

*Gary in the basement*

It was dark, dusty and a bit creepy, the sudden glare of shoplights lifted the gloom, but the dark lurked in the corners. Gary paused by the forgotten projects, a sad soccer ball, that broken drawer from the dresser, that rusted Lawnboy he borrowed, broke and failed to repair. Gary only has some clue where that objects he seeks may be. They could be in that pile of boxes, left in place since the last move, buried under years of castoffs, too good to throw away, not good enough to use. Behind the boxes, a wad of fur, with tiny white stick bones, gives a name to that odor. "Bah!" While moving a 2X4 left from a shelf job, Gary hits an overhanging light, a minor cascade of dust, dead bugs and spiders filter through the dead air, hatless, Gary collects his share in what's left of his hair. The box on top has some old stuff, but not the notebooks, the next box has served as a mouse motel, the wool sweater from a birthday long past, is fit only for mice. Gary plods on, digging through stratum, a journey through time. A muffled oath is muttered as a glossy, black spider, the size of a dinner plate, scuttled from under the box just lifted, dust is raised as Gary blindly stomps. Disheartened, our lad plops his tired ass onto a stool, blows grey dust boogers in a spray, then negligently wiped a finger on a Coors lite banner he lifted from that fern bar in Lynnwood.

So, we leave our hero, contemplating lost items, listening to the patter of little spider feet...........


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## bitzer (Nov 18, 2010)

Good writing Gary! I hope you take the time to post more.


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## MacLaren (Nov 18, 2010)

I tell ya, I wish i had the gift for writing like Randy and Gary. I love to read books. And I have a lot of respect for the authors who pen them. that is real talent.


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## RandyMac (Nov 18, 2010)

hillbilly22 said:


> I tell ya, I wish i had the gift for writing like Randy and Gary. I love to read books. And I have a lot of respect for the authors who pen them. that is real talent.



Give it a shot, type like you think.


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## RandyMac (Nov 19, 2010)

Hillbilly22 just stands there, with a dismal cast to his face, he had completely, throughly and without a doubt, stuck his little Huskie in that wretched Pine. A feeble attempt to extract the saw, resulted in creaking sounds from the AV mounts. Hillbilly22 swallowed his pride, along with a half pound of Redman and hauled off to find help. The first guy he ran across seemed like a nice guy, his name was GASoline71, Gas said "sure little fella, we'll give it a try". Back at the wretched Pine, they found that Chipmonks had left their opinion of the procedings, in the form of small pellets and a decapitated starter rope. GASoline71 laughed so hard, he lost one of the last remaining buttons on his overhauls. "well" says Gas, "not a problem, nope, no big deal, we'll having you sawing twigs again in a jiffy" With that GASoline71 drags up a big old Homelite, so old, so worn, you had to squint just right to make out the tag numbers. With his total enthusiasium, GASoline71 got right to it, 20 to 25 pulls later, the old red saw responds with a brain buzzing, ear killing blast of noise and smoke. Commencing on the job at hand, GASoline71 hoists 35 pounds of ancient mankiller to the tree, breaking wind with the effort involved. Soon the chips were falling, like butterflies after orchard spraying, the Homelite gnawed slowly through the wretched Pine, Hillbilly22's hopes were high. Then, spray of bright orange sparks were emitted on the far side, GASoline71 seeing Hillbilly22's mouth fly open, just winked, gave him a sideways grin and said "All normal mange, everything is just fine". More sparks, with a tooth crackin', grating sound, the top of the Pine tumbles from the stump, the Husky is free, but not unscathed. Hillbilly22, looks at what is left of his saw, the Homelite had chawed through most of the bar, some of the muffler and left a jagged notch on the top handle. "No need to thank me, I'm glad I could help" GASoline71 strides away, leaving a trail of Payday wrappers and Dr. Pepper cans in his wake.


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## GASoline71 (Nov 19, 2010)

*“For Chrissake Marsh… why don’t you hit the wedges with your purse?” Jack bellowed over the sound of the big McCulloch. “Hit the damn wedges!!!” 

“I’m givin’ it everything I’ve got!” Marsh hollered back.

The geardrive came to an idle as Jack paused to check his gun. Marsh stopped pounding wedges as well. He stooped over and rested with his hands on his knees. The White Ox gloves were wet with sweat. He thought to himself, why in the hell he was blessed with so many sweat glands on his lower arms and wrists? Makes grippin’ an axe damn near impossible in this heat. Sweat was dripping off his nose as well. Every so often a drop would hit his lip. “Yuck, salty water.” He said out loud.

“What?” Said Jack.

“Nothin’” was Marsh’s retort.

Jack pulled the pack of Pall Mall’s from his shirt and lit one up. He made a gesture towards Marsh with the pack. “No thanks,” Marsh said, “After this ##### is on the ground.”

Jack eyeballed the progress with the wedges. He knew Marsh was poundin’ the livin’ hell out of them. For cryin’ out loud, the man was damn near beat from the 90 degree heat, and a lot of axe swingin’. “Ya know Marsh; we should have set the ####in’ jacks before we even tried to wedge this mother.”

Marsh stood straight and nodded in approval. The wedges were lifting, but Marsh had to hit them hard with every swing. There was so much tonnage workin’ against them, the wedges were almost useless. Marsh stuck the axe in the spar and headed for the 450. Checked the fuel and oil, and topped off both tanks. Marsh lit the saw off, and started boring the hole for the jacks to sit. He had to be careful as the tree already had a face cut and a back cut about one third finished. If he knocked out any of the wedges, the big Doug could come back. Not pretty.

As Marsh was boring out the jack hole, Jack walked to the front of the Big Doug. Reached his hand up in the face and checked his work from an hour earlier. Stood back and took a long drag off of the cigarette. Slowly exhaled, and cussed himself for not setting the jacks earlier. “This mother ####er would be on the ground, if we weren’t in such a damn hurry.” He said aloud. Marsh couldn’t hear him piss and moan as the saw was drowning him out. “Why do we hurry? It’s damn foolish. Guess we’ll never know.”

Jack heard Marsh shut the 450 down. The jack hole was finished. He walked around the Doug, and grabbed the gunny sack with the jacks in it. Heavy bastards, he thought to himself. He heaved them up into the damn near perfect hole that Marsh had made. Then he noticed one of the hydraulic lines for one of the jacks was leaking. “What the ####.” Jack said.

“What now?” Marsh asked.

“Did you see this leakin’ son of a ##### when you grabbed it from the truck?” Jack snarled at Marsh.

“They were in the sack Jack. I couldn’t see ‘em. They’ve been in that sack for damn near two years. This is the first job we’ve needed them on in a long time. So don’t give me any bull#### about leaky jacks.” Marsh snapped back. “By the way, they’re your ####in’ jacks.”
*


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## RandyMac (Nov 19, 2010)

That's got it Gary, change Marsh to Kev, Jack to Randy and you have one of my afternoons.


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## slowp (Nov 19, 2010)

Unlike the TV show, your writing is right on. Continue please.


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## MacLaren (Nov 19, 2010)

RandyMac said:


> Hillbilly22 just stands there, with a dismal cast to his face, he had completely, throughly and without a doubt, stuck his little Huskie in that wretched Pine. A feeble attempt to extract the saw, resulted in creaking sounds from the AV mounts. Hillbilly22 swallowed his pride, along with a half pound of Redman and hauled off to find help. The first guy he ran across seemed like a nice guy, his name was GASoline71, Gas said "sure little fella, we'll give it a try". Back at the wretched Pine, they found that Chipmonks had left their opinion of the procedings, in the form of small pellets and a decapitated starter rope. GASoline71 laughed so hard, he lost one of the last remaining buttons on his overhauls. "well" says Gas, "not a problem, nope, no big deal, we'll having you sawing twigs again in a jiffy" With that GASoline71 drags up a big old Homelite, so old, so worn, you had to squint just right to make out the tag numbers. With his total enthusiasium, GASoline71 got right to it, 20 to 25 pulls later, the old red saw responds with a brain buzzing, ear killing blast of noise and smoke. Commencing on the job at hand, GASoline71 hoists 35 pounds of ancient mankiller to the tree, breaking wind with the effort involved. Soon the chips were falling, like butterflies after orchard spraying, the Homelite gnawed slowly through the wretched Pine, Hillbilly22's hopes were high. Then, spray of bright orange sparks were emitted on the far side, GASoline71 seeing Hillbilly22's mouth fly open, just winked, gave him a sideways grin and said "All normal mange, everything is just fine". More sparks, with a tooth crackin', grating sound, the top of the Pine tumbles from the stump, the Husky is free, but not unscathed. Hillbilly22, looks at what is left of his saw, the Homelite had chawed through most of the bar, some of the muffler and left a jagged notch on the top handle. "No need to thank me, I'm glad I could help" GASoline71 strides away, leaving a trail of Payday wrappers and Dr. Pepper cans in his wake.



LMAO! Damn your good Randy! You really are! that was awseome.


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## RandyMac (Nov 19, 2010)

hillbilly22 said:


> LMAO! Damn your good Randy! You really are! that was awseome.



LOL
If I knew ya better, I could really make fun of you!


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## MacLaren (Nov 19, 2010)

RandyMac said:


> LOL
> If I knew ya better, I could really make fun of you!



I think by God could make fun of anybody! Thats what ya get with the gift to write like you guys! Oh well.....


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## RandyMac (Nov 19, 2010)

hillbilly22 said:


> I think by God could make fun of anybody! Thats what ya get with the gift to write like you guys! Oh well.....



Hah ha ha
I'm thinking of a story with slowp making cedar chip cookies for Gologit.


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## MacLaren (Nov 19, 2010)

RandyMac said:


> Hah ha ha
> I'm thinking of a story with slowp making cedar chip cookies for Gologit.



man, it aint nothin to pick up a phone and call one of those publishers......or send them some material. Shoot, the only stuff I could write about would be ol chain gang memories. Nothin as cool as what yall write about.


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## Gologit (Nov 19, 2010)

RandyMac said:


> Hah ha ha
> I'm thinking of a story with slowp making cedar chip cookies for Gologit.



Sssshhhhhhh! Jeeez, don't give her any ideas. She can think up enough mischief all by herself.

Now get back to your writing.


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## slowp (Nov 19, 2010)

More like squirrel chip cookies. They'd look more authentic.


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## Joe46 (Nov 19, 2010)

Good writing. I don't know how you found the time to write Gary. If I wasn't working, on watch, or standing in the chow line all I wanted to was hit the fart sack. In fact, I got called before the Capt for not writing my Mom enough


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## Gologit (Nov 19, 2010)

slowp said:


> More like squirrel chip cookies. They'd look more authentic.



Now that's just MEAN ! Note to self...when Slowp brings cookies, check them over carefully. Very carefully.


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## GASoline71 (Nov 19, 2010)

Joe46 said:


> Good writing. I don't know how you found the time to write Gary. If I wasn't working, on watch, or standing in the chow line all I wanted to was hit the fart sack. In fact, I got called before the Capt for not writing my Mom enough



HAHA... the chaplain would walk down the chow line every so many days and ask all the cats when the last time they wrote a loved one. Everybody lied... because you knew if you didn't tell him you wrote home at least with in a week... you'd be pulled out of line and given a sermon. 

I would mostly write short bursts of what ever came out. Sometimes a paragraph or two... or maybe a page or two. Usually layin on my gut in my rack after tapps. 

Gary


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## GASoline71 (Nov 19, 2010)

*In the midst of all the bellyachin’ the big 890 stalls out while sittin’ in the back cut waiting to eat more wood. “####.” Jack says, and lights another cigarette. He walks around the stump of the huge Douglas Fir and comes to the powerhead that is hanging about chest high. The bar is buried to the dog. All 50” of it. So he attempts to start the big saw while it sits sideways in the wood. He thinks to himself that this is the only time he has ever felt grateful for a right hand start McCulloch. Since the starter was on the down side. He chuckles to himself, and gives the cord a yank.

He can’t get his footing on the steep sidehill. So it limits how hard he can pull on the starter cord. Yanks it again. The big saw burbles, and pops a few times and stalls out. Yank, yank, yank… Now Jack is getting pissed. But he swallows a bit of the anger, put out the just lit cigarette in the gnarly bark of the big Doug and then he sweet talks the big yellow mammoth and pets its flywheel housing with his gloved hand. Marsh starts to laugh. “Ya gots to give ‘em some love now and again Marsh.” Jack says through that toothy grin of his. Yank. Yank… now there are drips of fuel comin’ out of the muffler.

“Well apparently that one don’t love you none.” Marsh chuckles.

Yank… the saw burbles again, and starts to stall out. But jack is quick on the throttle. He feathers the throttle on the damn near flooded beast and keeps it alive. It roars, and whitish blue smoke fills the hot air around the base of the tree. With his hand still on the throttle, Jack turns and eyeballs Marsh. “#### you!” he yells with a smile.

Marsh smiles back and give Jack the finger. *


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## Brian13 (Nov 19, 2010)

Thanks for sharing Gary. You have my attention, and I cant wait to read the rest. 



RandyMac said:


> Hillbilly22 just stands there, with a dismal cast to his face, he had completely, throughly and without a doubt, stuck his little Huskie in that wretched Pine. A feeble attempt to extract the saw, resulted in creaking sounds from the AV mounts. Hillbilly22 swallowed his pride, along with a half pound of Redman and hauled off to find help. The first guy he ran across seemed like a nice guy, his name was GASoline71, Gas said "sure little fella, we'll give it a try". Back at the wretched Pine, they found that Chipmonks had left their opinion of the procedings, in the form of small pellets and a decapitated starter rope. GASoline71 laughed so hard, he lost one of the last remaining buttons on his overhauls. "well" says Gas, "not a problem, nope, no big deal, we'll having you sawing twigs again in a jiffy" With that GASoline71 drags up a big old Homelite, so old, so worn, you had to squint just right to make out the tag numbers. With his total enthusiasium, GASoline71 got right to it, 20 to 25 pulls later, the old red saw responds with a brain buzzing, ear killing blast of noise and smoke. Commencing on the job at hand, GASoline71 hoists 35 pounds of ancient mankiller to the tree, breaking wind with the effort involved. Soon the chips were falling, like butterflies after orchard spraying, the Homelite gnawed slowly through the wretched Pine, Hillbilly22's hopes were high. Then, spray of bright orange sparks were emitted on the far side, GASoline71 seeing Hillbilly22's mouth fly open, just winked, gave him a sideways grin and said "All normal mange, everything is just fine". More sparks, with a tooth crackin', grating sound, the top of the Pine tumbles from the stump, the Husky is free, but not unscathed. Hillbilly22, looks at what is left of his saw, the Homelite had chawed through most of the bar, some of the muffler and left a jagged notch on the top handle. "No need to thank me, I'm glad I could help" GASoline71 strides away, leaving a trail of Payday wrappers and Dr. Pepper cans in his wake.



I detect a hint of Dr. Seuss. The way it is written it reminds me of The Cat in the Hat. Have we found the real Dr. Seuss?


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## RandyMac (Nov 19, 2010)

I should quit cluttering up Gary's story line and pick on someone else for awhile. Hmmmmm, and there's Brian.


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## joesawer (Nov 19, 2010)

Leaking jack hoses lol.
Why is it that every time you have brand new sharp corks the pressured up jack hose always winds up under your feet.
I was wondering if they had some old iron Duffs but I have never seen any with hoses.


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## GASoline71 (Nov 19, 2010)

There was a twin ram jack that they guys used in the units I was in way back when. It had one hydraulic hose from a pump that split into 2 hoses, and then those went in to the 2 rams. It was a big ol' honkin' single pump with that thing. Maybe it was a custom made deal... not sure. 

Gary


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## schmuck.k (Nov 19, 2010)

RandyMac said:


> Hillbilly22 just stands there, with a dismal cast to his face, he had completely, throughly and without a doubt, stuck his little Huskie in that wretched Pine. A feeble attempt to extract the saw, resulted in creaking sounds from the AV mounts. Hillbilly22 swallowed his pride, along with a half pound of Redman and hauled off to find help. The first guy he ran across seemed like a nice guy, his name was GASoline71, Gas said "sure little fella, we'll give it a try". Back at the wretched Pine, they found that Chipmonks had left their opinion of the procedings, in the form of small pellets and a decapitated starter rope. GASoline71 laughed so hard, he lost one of the last remaining buttons on his overhauls. "well" says Gas, "not a problem, nope, no big deal, we'll having you sawing twigs again in a jiffy" With that GASoline71 drags up a big old Homelite, so old, so worn, you had to squint just right to make out the tag numbers. With his total enthusiasium, GASoline71 got right to it, 20 to 25 pulls later, the old red saw responds with a brain buzzing, ear killing blast of noise and smoke. Commencing on the job at hand, GASoline71 hoists 35 pounds of ancient mankiller to the tree, breaking wind with the effort involved. Soon the chips were falling, like butterflies after orchard spraying, the Homelite gnawed slowly through the wretched Pine, Hillbilly22's hopes were high. Then, spray of bright orange sparks were emitted on the far side, GASoline71 seeing Hillbilly22's mouth fly open, just winked, gave him a sideways grin and said "All normal mange, everything is just fine". More sparks, with a tooth crackin', grating sound, the top of the Pine tumbles from the stump, the Husky is free, but not unscathed. Hillbilly22, looks at what is left of his saw, the Homelite had chawed through most of the bar, some of the muffler and left a jagged notch on the top handle. "No need to thank me, I'm glad I could help" GASoline71 strides away, leaving a trail of Payday wrappers and Dr. Pepper cans in his wake.



thats good funny writing there randy and garys is awsome


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## Steve NW WI (Nov 20, 2010)

Gary (and Randy), that's some good writing! If ya ever find those notebooks back, get some scans of em and I'll be more than happy to play transcriptionist, if for no other reason than to get an advance copy!!!

Keep it up dudes, y'all remind me of some of my favorite writers, Lewis Grizzard and Patrick McManus.


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## mdavlee (Nov 20, 2010)

That's all good stuff.


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## slowp (Nov 20, 2010)

My feverish brain wonders why they aren't chewing? Too much smoking on a 90 degree day. Oh well, that was an earlier time.


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## RandyMac (Nov 26, 2010)

*Hey Gary!!!!!*


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## logbutcher (Nov 26, 2010)

No sex ????
WTF were you boys doing on board ? :hmm3grin2orange:


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## joesawer (Nov 28, 2010)

GASoline71 said:


> There was a twin ram jack that they guys used in the units I was in way back when. It had one hydraulic hose from a pump that split into 2 hoses, and then those went in to the 2 rams. It was a big ol' honkin' single pump with that thing. Maybe it was a custom made deal... not sure.
> 
> Gary



Did they look anything like this?
http://www.arboristsite.com/attachment.php?attachmentid=72725&d=1212810020
http://www.arboristsite.com/attachment.php?attachmentid=72726&d=1212810071


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