For years , Nelson and I have played a song called "Kickin’ Mule" at many of our performances. For this song, Nelson plays banjo on which he imitates the sound of a mule braying, and I (as Nelson says) imitate the other end… Oh, well !
Nevertheless, this song always reminds me of something that happened long ago when I was a teenager (or young Buck, so to speak).
As was our habit, Nelson and I had been playing music in his basement into the wee hours of the morning. At about 3 a.m., loaded with instruments, I began walking home. Now, it was only about 200 yards to my house. That night I was wearing the cowboy boots that I wore when riding my motorcycle. They made a good clopping sound as I walked on the pavement. It was also a very foggy night, making it hard to see more than a few yards in front of you.
When I got to the end of Nelson’s driveway and stepped onto Mauney Street, I thought I saw something coming toward me. Thinking I was imagining things, I kept going. Then I noticed that when I stopped, it would stop; and when I would go, it also moved toward me. At this point, I didn’t know whether to drop my instruments and run or what! Somehow, I managed enough courage to walk on a few more steps.
When I was about 15 yards from "this thing," I recognized a faint outline of a man and I also began hearing some mumbled words. There he was, weaving back and forth in the road, with arms outstretched sideways as far as they would go, and he was saying in a soft tone; "woah…, woah…, woah…" By this time, I was too scared to run, so I just yelled out; "hey !!!" When I did, the man jumped back all the way to the town square… (well, actually only a few feet). ….As it turned out, Tommy Duncan’s mule had gotten out and Tommy had spent half the night and morning roaming the streets of Blairsville looking for it.
Yes, I had been mistaken for a mule (maybe Nelson’s right after all), but I’m still alive and pickin’… and I’ll take that any day. It does make a good story and a funny memory for me, and probably for Tommy too.
Nevertheless, this song always reminds me of something that happened long ago when I was a teenager (or young Buck, so to speak).
As was our habit, Nelson and I had been playing music in his basement into the wee hours of the morning. At about 3 a.m., loaded with instruments, I began walking home. Now, it was only about 200 yards to my house. That night I was wearing the cowboy boots that I wore when riding my motorcycle. They made a good clopping sound as I walked on the pavement. It was also a very foggy night, making it hard to see more than a few yards in front of you.
When I got to the end of Nelson’s driveway and stepped onto Mauney Street, I thought I saw something coming toward me. Thinking I was imagining things, I kept going. Then I noticed that when I stopped, it would stop; and when I would go, it also moved toward me. At this point, I didn’t know whether to drop my instruments and run or what! Somehow, I managed enough courage to walk on a few more steps.
When I was about 15 yards from "this thing," I recognized a faint outline of a man and I also began hearing some mumbled words. There he was, weaving back and forth in the road, with arms outstretched sideways as far as they would go, and he was saying in a soft tone; "woah…, woah…, woah…" By this time, I was too scared to run, so I just yelled out; "hey !!!" When I did, the man jumped back all the way to the town square… (well, actually only a few feet). ….As it turned out, Tommy Duncan’s mule had gotten out and Tommy had spent half the night and morning roaming the streets of Blairsville looking for it.
Yes, I had been mistaken for a mule (maybe Nelson’s right after all), but I’m still alive and pickin’… and I’ll take that any day. It does make a good story and a funny memory for me, and probably for Tommy too.
Woah, Mule, Woah !
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