earschplitinloudenboomer
05-31-2005, 09:05 PM
Uncle Burley's big ol' Johnson
Now you moderators kin take your fanger offen the panic button, Uncle Burleys big ol' Johnson is a short shaft, two stroker with a well lubed lower unit, a 'perpeller an’...uh...might keep that fanger on standby fer a little bit.
Y'all 'member Uncle Burleys other leg?... the one he misplaced? Well someplace called REHAB fixed him up with a false one...took right to it too...'cept on occasion when he had a snoot full...then he sometimes got it on backwards... took a purty fair tracker to tell if Uncle Burley was comin' or goin'...an' he sure as hell didn't know!...
... back in the holler they wuz basically two ways to get stuff...steal it...'er swap fer it. Buyin' was usually out, nobody in the holler had much money. Now in our neighborhood stealin' was generally discouraged ("blue whistlers" from a 12 guage can get real discouragin', if you know what I mean). Swappin', on the other hand, had become a highly developed practice. If you remember, Uncle Burley was a "thrifty" person by nature (only'est part of a pig that didn't get et was the squeal) so's he had took the art of swappin' to a whole nuther level. Only one other man had ever skint' Uncle Burley on a trade... that wuz Chubby Amick. That swap took the better part of 3 year an' involved Chubby's twenny' foot pontoon boat an' Uncle Burley's '54 Chevy pick up. Now Chubby didn't know about the cracked block an' rear end full of sawdust 'n' b'nanner peels in Uncle Burley's Chevy, and Uncle Burley didn't know about the rivets in Chubby's pontoon boat...both of which ended up down at the Salvage yard (after the pontoon boat was retrieved from the bottom of the lake). All Uncle Burley knowed wuz, that big ol' Johnson outboard, (that he always thought should have been part of the deal), was still layin' on top of Chubby's coal shed to keep the roof from blowin' off. Forty horse, she wuz...tiller steer. Deep maroon an' a prop big aroun' as a pie plate! Uncle Burley still wanted it.
The swap wuz a rough one, down an' dirty, Chubby didn't like Uncle Burley an' Uncle Burley didn't like Chubby. Even with the offer of Uncle Burley's banty rooster, Benny, a genuine cowhide biker wallet (with chain), an' seven dollars cash money...it still took that weed whacker he'd got back from Lo...rayne when they broke up...(yeah she done runned off with that LOTS feller that wuz 'spose to have some kind of claim on 'er). Uncle Burley wuz sure gonna miss that weed whacker...but the motor was his!
Only problem now was, what to put it on. All he had left was that little 12 foot 'lunamin boat (don't you just hate them folks what cain't pernounce 'lunamin?... they say loomeyun an' stuff...pitiful). If he could get the Johnson runnin', it would have to do for a test run anyway...at least 'til he could swap fer somthin' bigger. Now folks the thing about ol' Johnsons is...the dam things'll run. In only a couple of weeks Uncle Burley had 'er to where she'd hit purty often. After all that work, figgered he might as well go all the way...soaked them ol' plugs in some lamp oil an' wire brushed 'em...she'd have to start now! Time to put 'er in the water. They was just one more thing that kept gnawin' at the back of Uncle Burley's mind (front done been gnawed off by cheap likker)...mothballs. Back in "the days" when a feller wuz goin' out fer an' evnin' of drag racin' over on the bypass, he'd always slip a hand full of mothballs in the gas tank. Uncle Burley figgered if it was good fer a Chevy, it was good fer a Johnson...so he put a handful in the tank an' shook 'er up.
A distant cousin at Sandstone owned river front property an' with a good come-a-long an' 30 or 40 foot of rope you could launch a boat from it. About 10 foot from the water, Uncle Burley came to the end of his rope...hmmm...lets see..."hit wuz about a hunnert foot long when he inherited it from Granpaw...swapped about 50 foot of it to Kenny Meaders so's he could hobble that goat to keep from mowin' grass...10 foot 'er so to tie the boat on the truck...leetle bit to lash the cooler full of ice an' beer in"...never mind, he had a good sharp Boker...SPLAAAASHHHH!!!...she righted herself soon enough, but appeared to be a little light in the bow (it was a good 2 foot out of the water)...Uncle Burley hated to be that far from the beer but he moved the 48 quart cooler to the front for ballast an' lashed 'er down good, couldn't take any chances with the beer.
Facing backwards, Uncle Burley grabbed the start cord an' give 'er a yank...PAAAAAAAAADDDDDDDUUUN...she started...wide open....in gear !!! That ol' Seahorse got one whiff 'o them mothballs an' went berserk...jerked Uncle Burley off the seat...landed on the floor an' got sumthin' hung on one of them 5.0 trebble hooks he'd been usin' to snag with. Alls you could see of Uncle Burley wuz two huge eyes peepin' over the gunnel (ever see "KILROY WAS HERE")? Kill switch...kill switch...gone...wunner what Chubby traded that fer?!!!
http://i3.photobucket.com/albums/y90/clik-it/UncleBurley.jpg
Now you moderators kin take your fanger offen the panic button, Uncle Burleys big ol' Johnson is a short shaft, two stroker with a well lubed lower unit, a 'perpeller an’...uh...might keep that fanger on standby fer a little bit.
Y'all 'member Uncle Burleys other leg?... the one he misplaced? Well someplace called REHAB fixed him up with a false one...took right to it too...'cept on occasion when he had a snoot full...then he sometimes got it on backwards... took a purty fair tracker to tell if Uncle Burley was comin' or goin'...an' he sure as hell didn't know!...
... back in the holler they wuz basically two ways to get stuff...steal it...'er swap fer it. Buyin' was usually out, nobody in the holler had much money. Now in our neighborhood stealin' was generally discouraged ("blue whistlers" from a 12 guage can get real discouragin', if you know what I mean). Swappin', on the other hand, had become a highly developed practice. If you remember, Uncle Burley was a "thrifty" person by nature (only'est part of a pig that didn't get et was the squeal) so's he had took the art of swappin' to a whole nuther level. Only one other man had ever skint' Uncle Burley on a trade... that wuz Chubby Amick. That swap took the better part of 3 year an' involved Chubby's twenny' foot pontoon boat an' Uncle Burley's '54 Chevy pick up. Now Chubby didn't know about the cracked block an' rear end full of sawdust 'n' b'nanner peels in Uncle Burley's Chevy, and Uncle Burley didn't know about the rivets in Chubby's pontoon boat...both of which ended up down at the Salvage yard (after the pontoon boat was retrieved from the bottom of the lake). All Uncle Burley knowed wuz, that big ol' Johnson outboard, (that he always thought should have been part of the deal), was still layin' on top of Chubby's coal shed to keep the roof from blowin' off. Forty horse, she wuz...tiller steer. Deep maroon an' a prop big aroun' as a pie plate! Uncle Burley still wanted it.
The swap wuz a rough one, down an' dirty, Chubby didn't like Uncle Burley an' Uncle Burley didn't like Chubby. Even with the offer of Uncle Burley's banty rooster, Benny, a genuine cowhide biker wallet (with chain), an' seven dollars cash money...it still took that weed whacker he'd got back from Lo...rayne when they broke up...(yeah she done runned off with that LOTS feller that wuz 'spose to have some kind of claim on 'er). Uncle Burley wuz sure gonna miss that weed whacker...but the motor was his!
Only problem now was, what to put it on. All he had left was that little 12 foot 'lunamin boat (don't you just hate them folks what cain't pernounce 'lunamin?... they say loomeyun an' stuff...pitiful). If he could get the Johnson runnin', it would have to do for a test run anyway...at least 'til he could swap fer somthin' bigger. Now folks the thing about ol' Johnsons is...the dam things'll run. In only a couple of weeks Uncle Burley had 'er to where she'd hit purty often. After all that work, figgered he might as well go all the way...soaked them ol' plugs in some lamp oil an' wire brushed 'em...she'd have to start now! Time to put 'er in the water. They was just one more thing that kept gnawin' at the back of Uncle Burley's mind (front done been gnawed off by cheap likker)...mothballs. Back in "the days" when a feller wuz goin' out fer an' evnin' of drag racin' over on the bypass, he'd always slip a hand full of mothballs in the gas tank. Uncle Burley figgered if it was good fer a Chevy, it was good fer a Johnson...so he put a handful in the tank an' shook 'er up.
A distant cousin at Sandstone owned river front property an' with a good come-a-long an' 30 or 40 foot of rope you could launch a boat from it. About 10 foot from the water, Uncle Burley came to the end of his rope...hmmm...lets see..."hit wuz about a hunnert foot long when he inherited it from Granpaw...swapped about 50 foot of it to Kenny Meaders so's he could hobble that goat to keep from mowin' grass...10 foot 'er so to tie the boat on the truck...leetle bit to lash the cooler full of ice an' beer in"...never mind, he had a good sharp Boker...SPLAAAASHHHH!!!...she righted herself soon enough, but appeared to be a little light in the bow (it was a good 2 foot out of the water)...Uncle Burley hated to be that far from the beer but he moved the 48 quart cooler to the front for ballast an' lashed 'er down good, couldn't take any chances with the beer.
Facing backwards, Uncle Burley grabbed the start cord an' give 'er a yank...PAAAAAAAAADDDDDDDUUUN...she started...wide open....in gear !!! That ol' Seahorse got one whiff 'o them mothballs an' went berserk...jerked Uncle Burley off the seat...landed on the floor an' got sumthin' hung on one of them 5.0 trebble hooks he'd been usin' to snag with. Alls you could see of Uncle Burley wuz two huge eyes peepin' over the gunnel (ever see "KILROY WAS HERE")? Kill switch...kill switch...gone...wunner what Chubby traded that fer?!!!
http://i3.photobucket.com/albums/y90/clik-it/UncleBurley.jpg