Muck for Sale

My friend and I were driving to Destin, Fl one afternoon. By the way, if you ever get a chance to go to Destin....DON'T! Running low on gas we decided it would be best to pull of the highway and find a gas station. Brilliant aren't we? We spot a sign stating "GAS THIS EXIT" and we take the off ramp. The first thing we spot certianly resembles a gas station, the high peaked roof, the pumps out front and an assorment of concrete bollards surrounding them. To our dismay though as we drive closer we see it is abandoned, boarded up. We need gas so we continue down the road hoping to find a station further down.

We came upon a quiet town and by quiet I mean nothing and nobody seemed to be stirring. I'm talking tumbleweed territory here. Abandoned cars off to the side, sometimes three to a yard. Your typical assortment of washers, lawnmowers and such scattered about. Buildings and homes with more plywood than I've seen since the hurricanes of '04. We pass a convience store with pumps that is open but continue to try to find a more recognizable filling station. We pass the fire house, the police station, several businesses, all closed. We Finally spot a gas station across from the local Moose lodge, also closed. My friend gets out to start filling the tank only to find this station is....you guessed it, closed. We figured that being as small a town as this was there had to be only one key and Bubba, who has that key, went fishing that day. We head back towards the convience store we passed on the way in. I kid you not, we stopped at The S&M Beverage and convience store. Naturally this had to be the only business open. I guess they were open 24 hours and didn't need a lock and key. We filled the tank but as curious as we were felt it safer to not go inside. With Gas in the tank and banjos in the background we headed back towards the highway.

Halfway back towards the highway I happen to spot a sign off the side of the road about 30 feet back or so. It was a 4x8 sheet of plywood spray painted white with huge bold black and red spray painted lettering, each letter displaying a myriad of runs that only a masterful graffiti artist could apprciate. The sign was leaning against an old abandoned (notice a theme here?) pick-up truck. "MUCK for Sale $5.00 a bucket" Also in this yard were old tractors, cultivators, bulldozers. A couple of them even had paint on them here or there. All for rent as another sign stated. "Hey Joe, we need any muck?" I asked as we passed by. "We apparently just passed a muck farm."

Continuing down the road several questions came to mind so we bounced them off one another. What's in their muck? How does one grow muck? What's it like on a muck farm? Do they deliver? Suppose I worked on a muck farm, would I get into trouble for "mucking things up"?
Do I get to drive the "mucking" tractor, the "mucking" dump truck or deal with the "Mucking" customers? Do have to go to school to learn to become a muck farmer or is it a family busiess and one is born into mucking? Did they have to go to the bank and get a "mucking" loan? Trust me when I say it got worse. LOL

As we approaced the on ramp back to the highway, back to the civilized world, I had this thought running through my mind. Picture this, a father and his eldest son standing atop a hill on the outskirts of their property. The father smoking a pipe, his arm resting over the shoulder of his son. The sun starting to set displaying a beautiful array of warm colors. The father takes a draw on his pipe and slowly exhales. He looks out over his property, the house, the vehicles, the muck. He smiles, gives a tug on his son's shoulder and says....."Just think boy, one day this will all be yours."

Brings a tear to your eye doesn't it?