Excitedly I prepared to go to Hanna to meet my young husband’s relatives. Nothing moved fast enough. The calm morning didn’t turn the huge windmill, therefore the water needed to be pumped by hand, a time consuming chore. Our entire stock of cattle stood waiting for water this morning, It had been hot and dry and the thirsty animals seemed to be drinking forever. Edwin had been to Hanna several times but this was my first meeting my newly acquired relatives.
My rusty red hair was very unruly this morning, so I ‘turned in’ huge pink brush rollers. As I climbed into our Oldsmobile 88 nestling close to my husband, I noticed he looked unimpressed with the pink colour rolled in my hair.
After driving for some time, my man stopped at a four-wire fence and was opening the gate. The area was desolate. Edwin struggled for some time with the tightly roped gate when suddenly I glanced to the right. There on the sign it said, “Enter at Your Own Risk”.
“Why are we going onto this forbidden land? Did you read?” I called out.
“I’ve travelled this trail numerous times” came the reply. “This shortcut will save us miles.”
“Do you honestly know what you’re doing?” I questioned abruptly.
“Trust me,” he replied through clenched teeth.
We were now bumping along on a trail in the community lease. Range cattle gave us quizzical glances as they quickly moved out of harm’s way. I had the feeling these animals hadn’t seen very many vehicles. The wild deer and antelope bounced up and away, fearing our intrusion into their peaceful countryside. Down and around we followed the wagon trails made by pioneers years ago.
I became more alarmed with each screech and scrape from underneath the low-built vehicle. Near the windmill a loud ‘ker boom’ sounded.
“Stop” I hollered, “now what are we going to do?”.
Not a word was spoken as my man in his pin-striped grey suit disappeared underneath the vehicle. After some time I turned the window down and called out, “What’s the hold up?”
My husband muttered, “If I had some haywire I could….”
“Tie up what, “I hastily interrupted.
“Tie up this muffler,” he replied.
“Humph”, I fumed, “you and your blinking shortcut.”
Suddenly I remembered I still had those big rollers in my hair to curl it. I removed one, pulled out the brush, removed the net that held it all together, then gave the soft wire a firm tug to straighten the wire to some twenty inches.
Handing it down for him to see, I sarcastically asked, “Would this be of any help?”
“Wow!” he exclaimed, “where did you find this wire?”
“Curlers,” I replied.
My husband sheepishly asked from under the vehicle, “Could you remove a few more?”
The muffler was finally tied up and we limped slowly along until we arrived at the only service station in Hanna. That’s where my husband was waving his arms as he recounted the mishap.
A hearty laugh rang out when the service station attendant heard how my huge pink curlers had saved the day.
Medicine Hat Cowboy Poetry Foundation 