Make your own free website on Tripod.com

CHAPTER EIGHT

Even in the foggy world of stomach relaxers, a man can be touched in his deepest emotions by the depressing thought of having to say farewell to something that controls his innermost feelings of sentimentality. Could leaving Silver City with all it's memories of glory and applause affect my heartstrings to produce tears of painful parting as I didn't know if I'd ever see this shrine of Wild Bill's Palace of Prosperity and Poverty again? Was it the very thought of looking down from the Eastbound plane as it lifted out of the valley seeing the glamorous, captivating lights of the Entertainment Capital Of The World dwindle in size until they were but a flicker, the size of a candle left for the human eye to behold, that crushed my very soul into total emptiness? Heavens no! There is but one thing that I held in such high esteem. Surely you've guessed by now.

My whole being trembled as I drove my friend to his final resting place. He'd been faithful and true to me when others dumped me like garbage. And though many chose to sneer at my weather worn comrade because the signs of aging had crept up on him as the years passed by so quickly. Alas, youth lacks the vintage of a cultured creature that knows no boundaries when called upon to go with me to the most dangerous destinations. That's right, it was time for Old Off-Whitie to retire to his new home in Crusher Village. I felt poorly about receiving the $50.00 bounty for bringing him in, but he'd understand. He never complained. He'd chased deer across the plains of Utah before we met. And though we'd only known each other for less than a year, I valued his loyalty and faithfulness way above many of those two legged varmints I'd encountered since July of '75. I won't name names. If you read my story you know who they are. No one was ever as loyal as Old Off-Whitie. He never whined or complained. He was almost a self starter. He never ran anybody down. And he never lied. He was what he was and ignored the dirty looks and put downs he got from all those turkeys in the fast lane. He never had a bath and was somewhat torn apart inside. But he had what it takes to be a friend you can count on. Yep, Old Off-Whitie had character through and through. His integrity showed from his push button transmission to his dull chrome nameplate. Oh, to ever have another friend like him again. They just don't make Desotos like they used to.

As someone else drove me away from this metal rest home, I looked back to see Old Off-Whitie intermingling with the other residents all involved in a common activity. A tear wells up in my eye when I tell you exactly what appeared to be happening to my dear former companion. The words that best describe Old Off-Whitie's condition as I last saw him also properly fit a man named Don, mentioned earlier in this book as the only member of the audience to sit in the Silver City lounge throughout the entire 18 hours and 16 minutes of my Guinness Book World Record marathon. To put it mildly-----They were both smashed!

To go to the Epilogue

RETURN TO THE TABLE OF CONTENTS PAGE

by using the back button on your browser now!

Email: vegaswatchdog@yahoo.com