The milk cow in the meantime required considerably more management then one might believe was needed. Once the Citronella starting to get regulated and the milk just about drinkable the cow took to running off. This particular time I was asked to go and search for her. As the road had very little forking and I knew the direction she had gone it was a done deal. My downfall was the piece of rope that I found to lead her home on. I took the first piece of rope I found which was at least 50’ long and coiled it around the bicycle seat and took off. This was to later be a bad mistake.
After catching the cow about 3 miles down the road and not far past a very steep hill, I tied the rope about her neck and started back, pushing my bicycle.
At this point I must make a confession, the bicycle I had taken for the errand was my little sister Karen’s brand new bicycle. I probably would not have taken it but I was home alone and why not. This was the second bad mistake.
The day was sunny, I had found the cow, and we were well on our way home. What could go wrong? I was soon to find out. We had just crested the steep hilltop and were starting down the very steep slope on the north side, too steep to ride a bicycle up, but going down could be fun, but not today. Suddenly the cow took off because of the steepness of the hill under full Citronella power, no stopping her. The cow was the clear winner and vanished down the road dragging my sister’s bicycle at maximum warp, as I watched it disappear around a corner of the road. Remember the excess rope was wrapped around the seat and no way in the world could I untie it. So running as hard as I could, after the bicycle and screaming at the top of my lungs for the cow to stop, I finally caught up to the cow and what was left of the bicycle. The cow had stopped because the bicycle had tangled in some roadside debris and was wheezing to the point of exhaustion, dripping wet with sweat.
After untying the bicycle with great effort I was left in despair to lead the cow the rest of the way home and ponder my upcoming fate.
When the rest of the family got home I was busy trying to pound out and straighten Karen’s bicycle so it could be ridden again, but who would want too. The cow was no worse for wear but the milk at the next milking looked more like cottage cheese flavored with Citronella.
It was with great reluctance that Garth finally succumbed to Hermie’s wishes and agreed to return to the US. Gary decided to remain with us and help my dad while I completed my 9th year of schooling by BC correspondence.
I can still hear Garth singing as he, Hermie, little Jane and the cow chugged out of Bird Cove Bay, in his old tub of a fish boat, singing at the top of his lungs, “Nobody knows the trouble I’ve seen, nobody knows my sorrow.” And them they were gone, and out of sight beyond the point, and we went back to life as before.
No comments:
Post a Comment