Meek chuckled a bit. “Oh yeah, they let me drink coffee! Uncle Bob said if I was doing man’s work, then I was man enough to drink coffee like him and Andy!”

“Bet your parents wouldn’t have liked that.” I commented.

“Actually dad didn’t care, but mom had a fit when she came to get me at the end of summer and saw me drinking coffee.”

“Bet that got nasty.” I observed.

Meek shook his head, “No, because Uncle Bob doesn’t take any of Mom’s crap. Never has and never will. Soon as mom started to make a fuss, Uncle Bob told her to shut up. When she didn’t he opened the back door, shoved her out and closed it. He then shouted through the door, ‘When you stop being a bitch I’ll let you back in.’”

“Are you serious?!” I exclaimed loudly.

Meek laughed as he crossed his heart and held up his right hand, “Right hand to God!”

Laughing along with him I said, “I need your Uncle to teach my mom how to do that with my grandfather!”

“Yeah, no kidding! You should try that yourself with your granddad.” He joked.

“To be honest, I sort of have grown used to having my head attached to my body. So I think I won’t risk it.”
Meek got a kick out of that, “Don’t blame you there. I wouldn’t have the guts either. Well, anyway, like I was saying, Andy and I stunk and due to our odiferous emanations, we were made to ride in the bed of the truck.”

“Odiferous emanations! That’s a good one!” I laughed.

As if I hadn’t said anything he went on, “To be honest, riding in the back of the pickup was normally a great way to ride in the truck. A couple of times I got to ride back there on top of a several bales of hay, but that was later in the afternoon. However, at six in the morning it wasn’t as nice. It was still very early summer and we were up in northern Minnesota, so the mornings were quite chilly when traveling at fifty miles an hour down old, winding, bouncy dirt roads. We both had on sweatshirts and blue jeans, but they did little to keep out the bite of the wind.”

“By the time Uncle Bob had the truck moving I’d chugged all my coffee.” He stated.

“Wasn’t it hot?” I asked.

He chuckled, “Nah, because after my first attempt at drinking hot coffee at their house, Aunt Janet had begun putting ice cubes in mine to cool it down for me.”

“Why’d she do that?” I asked.

Again, he chuckled, “I saw how Uncle Bob drank his like he was chugging a beer so I tried it too. Burned the crap out of my whole mouth and ended up spiting it out all over Uncle Bob, the floor, and the table.”

I laughed along with him and could just see all that happening.

“Okay so you chugged your lukewarm water and then what?” I asked.

“NOT WATER! COFFEE!” He said as though I’d just insulted his mother.

“Sheesh! Water, coffee, what’s it matter.” I said while holding up my hands as if he had a gun pointed at me.

In the same tone he said, “IT MATTERS!”

“Alright then… You don’t have to bite my head off! You chugged your COFFEE and then what?”

“Oh well, I popped the last bite of my biscuit sandwich into my mouth and settled down in the truck with my back to the cab of the truck.”