I got a kick out of this, hope you do too. From PMC Newsletter...
Marlin Crawler Round Up!
I could not believe it. My husband came home all excited and happy, bouncing off the walls. ‘Honey, I have some exciting news for you’ he exclaimed while catching his breath and chugging a margarita.
I knew this was finally it. The hints I had been leaving around the house had paid off. The news-paper casually left open to the jewelry page; the magazine ad left on the bathroom counter; the 25% off coupon left rolled up in a condom, he had finally got the hint that I wanted a new diamond ring!!
With trembling hands, I grabbed his dirty hands and looked lovingly into his bloodshot eyes… ‘Yes dear’ I replied holding back the tears of joy. Thoughts of 1 carrot Hearts of Fire diamond danced in my head. What color? What clarity?? What size?
‘We’re headed to the Round Up’ he blurted out triumphantly. My heart sank. I glanced around the kitchen for something to maim him with. Coffee pot blow to the head; dish strainer across the nose; kitchen chair to the balls… ew, butcher knife!
‘Round Up? What the hell is the Round Up and do they sell diamonds there?’ ‘The Marlin Crawler Round Up on the world famous Rubicon Trail’ he answered looking at me as if I was mentally retarded with a third hand growing out of my nose.
Before I could reply, he had done a 180 and was headed towards the garage, gravity pulling on his shorts and 6 inches of hairy butt crack showing above his dingy BVDs. His next two days were spent getting his truck running (which had not run in over a year) and pulling out camping gear from where he had thrown it into a pile upon returning home from our last rained out camping trip… just about a year ago.
I was not about to take this sitting down. I immediately pulled up a chair and began thumbing through the Yellow Pages for a divorce lawyer. I wanted a particularly nasty one with no heart.
Well much to my surprise, he got that old piece of
truck running (although it had a terrible miss, was blowing oil every where and blue smoke poured from the exhaust pipe) and managed to assemble enough camping gear for a dog going on a picnic. When I asked him about our kids, he looked at me with a funny smirk… I truly believe he forgot we even had children… then suggested a couple frozen meals for our 6 and 4 year old. When I asked who was taking care of Fido, he suggested tossing a frozen steak on the floor; the dog could then eat at it as it defrosted. I simply rolled my eyes and shook my head in disbelief.
The next thing I know, we are sailing down I50 towards the Ice House Resort. Now this excited me immensely… a resort! I envisioned saunas, cabanas by the beach, cabana boys busily bringing me exotic drinks with pink umbrellas and food spread out before me like a feast, and a fat diamond on my finger. Ice House Resort sounded good to me! Well, upon zooming past some small red shack in the middle of no where, my so called husband pointed out the resort and noted they made a killer hamburger and onion rings.
Soon we were rounding Loon Lake and arriving at the trail head. Interestingly enough, I think I might have finally found where my husband finally fit in. Here were a bunch of other idiots with piece of
trucks all convening. They seemed to speak the same language… a language I had heard him use but never understood: Front ARB locker birfield Dana 44 hydro assist spring over stock modified EFI twin stick rear locked 5 29 welded eliminator weak link cryo spider chunk CV tube shackle spring beer tits food. I recognized the last 3 words as things he always wanted but that was about it.
My next 6 hours were a living hell. I could not believe that we were actually driving towards and over rocks! I asked him ‘Do you have to drive over every rock?’ He would smile and then fart. If someone got in his way, he would hit him with his truck! The other guys would laugh and call each other names. For a moment, I felt as if I had been time warped to another dimension, one where Mad Max was the eminent ruler and all trucks resembled something Frankenstein had created out of boredom.
I think I must have lost consciousness or something, because soon we were pulling into Rubicon Springs. This was supposed to be our destination but I am still not sure why. There was nothing there. The full day of traveling over rocks (no, we could not go around them, we had to go over them) had left me with a full bladder and I had to really do tinkle. When I asked my husband where the bathroom was, he asked me if I wanted a formal bathroom or if a bush would suffice. Well of course I was not going to tinkle behind a bush, I wanted a bathroom. He then took me to what he called a bathroom, but it was like nothing I had seen before except at the fair. I opened the door and cautiously peered inside. I was greeted by a swarm of flies and a stench that I know will take months to wash out of my clothes. I told him I would hold it.
My husband then asked me where I wanted to camp. I looked around at nothing but granite and old beat up trucks with drunken lecherous idiots at the wheel. None of it appealed to me. I wanted 5 star hotels, Resorts, restaurants, lounges… something with a real bathroom and faucet and a sink!
Soon we had secured a spot. I was surprised he did not have to do battle with another person as good flat spots were few and far between. He pulled out the old tent; its sides still stuck together from mildew, and set about creating a camp site. He pulled out all kinds of junk that had been lying around our house for years. Much to my surprise, he then offered me a chair to sit in (the one his friend had rolled into the fire in) and provided me a frosty margarita. I have to admit, it was probably the most comfortable chair I had ever sat in, and probably the best margarita I had ever had.
Suddenly, excitement filled the air and all the ‘men’ became to migrate to one end of camp. Marlin had arrived. Who the hell was Marlin I asked myself unconcerned with my chair and frosty beverage.
I half expected to see everyone on their knees and bowing before him by the way they acted. Reluctantly, I followed the trail of butt cracks and made my way across the granite towards a red truck in which everyone had converged. In the center, shaking hands and talking incessantly, was the man they called Marlin. It was if everyone was gathering in an effort to shake his hand or simply touch the legend. What is so special about this guy I wondered aloud? Suddenly, I realized my comments had been audible, and worse, heard by the surrounding men. This time they all looked at me at if I was mentally retarded with a third hand growing from my nose. ‘Oh That Marlin’, I quickly replied in a half joking voice in an effort to defuse the situation.
Much to my surprise, there was my husband standing there talking to this Marlin guy and shaking hands. I had no idea he knew him. I cut through the crowd, occasionally pushing and shoving as needed to clear a path, till I stood beside my husband. He then displayed the most etiquette I had ever seen him display as he graciously introduced me to the man they called Marlin Crawler. He then went on to note to Marlin that I wanted a diamond ring desperately but he had spent all my diamond ring money on Hy Steer and Crawler gears. I then kicked my husband squarely in the balls and hitchhiked back home, using the phone number I looked up earlier. The end.
