So I was driving the band truck (aka Convenient Store on wheels) to Dallas on Friday to pick up new computers. Those of you who know the band truck know that it is loud, cold and void of music, talk radio or any entertainment what-so-ever. I had a lot of time to think. I realized that before I die or soon after, I would like to have a prison in Texas named after me. The Jeff Madlock State Correctional Facility has a wonderful ring to it. I also learned how to do the na-na-na-na thing from Caddy Shack..you know, the cool thing Chevy Chase does when he plays golf...anyway! I brushed up on my showtune lyrics. I am pretty sure that I can do a one man show of "Oklahoma."
On this trip, I also had the opportunity to contemplate the mysterious sound of random clankings of the band truck. After two hours of examining the rattle directly behind my left side, approximately 8 inches from the top of the door and on the very edge of the sliding doo, I have come to the realization that there is a message to be found in these seemingly obscur rattles. That message is one of WD-40. It is one of lubrication and care. The idea of finding these annoying rattles and clank and greasing them down so that simple, fat people like myself will not lose their minds.
I know...I am rambling and probably on medication...who knew...squirrels live near me and chocolate makes me sleepy!
manteca
