Cwalker935
Member
Visiting the folks and took Dad to get new tires on his truck. When leaving the tire store, Dad said wrooden wrooden which is Dad speak for we are going for a ride. Dad's stroke took away most of his words so communication can be a challenge and when Dad says wrooden wrooden you have no idea what you are in for. You just drive where he points and hope he gives you enough notice to make the turn. I soon figured out that we were headed for the mountains and then he starts pointing at a small country store and handed me his wallet. With some back and forth I figured out he wanted a six pack so I got a six pack and we headed up the mountain. After negotiating some kiss your butt turns and some four wheeling we ended up near the top of the mountain and Dad starts motioning me to slow down which was hard to do since I was already going very slow. After a bit I realized we were hunting chinquapins. I waded into the briars and poison oak praying that the timber rattlers were not looking for chinquapins as well and picked a hatful. We then stopped and cracked open a beer and ate some chinquapins. Mountain cuisine with the goodest of the good ole boys- nothing finer.