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- Tim
send your New Pic's to
truckforce@webtv.net
OF THE U.S. TRUCK FORCE
HELD IN LAS VEGAS, NEVADA
8/27/00 THROUGH 8/31/00
Convention Headquarters: HOTEL MANDALAY
Tail Hook now takes second place as the Convention of Conventions!! The U.S.T.F. contingent headed-up by Big Dave 40, Our Leader, at the front table with the lady "dancing" on his lap(?) Has moved swiftly to First Place. It was
The Mother of All Conventions. Truck Force Members from around the Country roared past the Pyramid and the Sphinx to get where the real action was: Big Dave's Penthouse Suite with a Bunny-like Wait Staff eager to please.
This was NO ordinary Convention. Big Dave cancelled all Business Meetings until the 2001 Convention, the First of the New Millennium. His personal Astrologer and his Tarot Card Reader both advised that the alignments were perfect for Partying Hearty and all decorum was thrown to the wind ... along with a not insignificant amount of money. Nobody gambled away their get-home gas money, and many actually won a few thousand here and there.
Husbands and Wives alike found themselves drawn into the whirlwind created
by Big Dave's enthusiastic and plush Delegate Welcoming Party at the Mandalay. Caviar, lobster, steak-ka-bobs, pate and a river of Wine and John Barleycorn took the edge off of everyone and clothes off a few as well! It was all
good clean fun, including the wet "T"shirt and wet shorts contests. Delegates and a few very nice gate crashes mingled, danced and squirmed throughout the
3-bedroom suite and spacious balcony overlooking the fabulous neon City from
dusk 'til near dawn of the first night.
There was truck talk and laughter everywhere and nobody lost their bearings badly enough to meet Las Vegas's finest. Big Dave had heavy-duty Security Men in and outside of the Suite so that all Delegates felt perfectly safe to let their hair down and Karioke with no Karioke machine in sight. Some
high-sittin' Truckers took off their boots and let it ALL go, If they could talk, they sang. If they could walk, they danced. Quite a few seemed to be doing some version of an Indian New Truck Dance, never before seen in Vegas or anywhere else for that matter. Big Dave asks that all who are interested mark their calendars for the week before Labor Day 2001 for the Second Annual Convention also being held
in Las Vegas. Send no deposits, just let me know if you are interested in attending. Everyone will book their own reservations (anywhere near the Strip) and more news will be forthcoming as to exact dates, times and places of Convention activities. It promises to be Bigger and Better than the First - and that will be hard as hell to beat.
here's some pic's
http://community.webtv.net/dpinvegas/USTF1stAnnual
Hey tim i seen your truck at menards on sunday. It was exactly the same had rails and running boards but it was a regular cab long bed. Also had a plow pkg
Ryan
truckforce@webtv.net
LOL
- Tim
SUPER-SERIOUS RECALL OF FORD/FIRESTONE/BRIDGESTONE EXECUTIVE BRAINS
From Big Dave-40's Executive Suite - an exclusive, startling tale from the First Amendment Grapevine.
It seems that Ford Motor Company has put its big guns on the big tube to tell us that, "The Ford Family", stands behind all of its vehicles and won't stop until this Public Relations Debacle with Firestone and Bridgestone goes away ... kind of like the old Firestone 500 bedtime story. Most of you probably remember it: "Get Rid of Your Mother-In-Law, Buy Her a Ford Pinto with Firestone 500's on It".
Well, Ford is doing its level best to lie to you the way you want to hear it. How many Explorer owners were informed that their vehicle's tires were tested with (of all things) a Ford pick-up!!! The Ford Guys knew they were killing off the "Family" for at least five years!! It's been said that Firestone Workers and Management (along with Bridgestone) probably knew they were killing peeps (us'ns) for about ten Years before someone blew the whistle on them. Even our fine Government had some data that showed serious flaws as the carnage went on unabated!!
You might well ask, "What's next?" Well, wonder no more. Through his Worldwide contacts at every level
involved - from the bars outside the Firestone and Bridgestone Factories right down to the Gross Pointe
(correct spelling for these vermin) Country Clubs where laughter at wicked, killing crashes was not unusual - Our Leader, Big Dave-40, has come upon the latest scuttlebutt that ya'll need to know. THERE'S A GROUNDSWELL OF PUBLIC OPINION THAT IS NEARING TIDAL WAVE PROPORTIONS ...
IT'S A PEOPLE'S MOVEMENT TO RECALL ALL THE BRAINS BEHIND FORD, FIRESTONE AND BRIDGESTONE. Let's face facts: they need to be refitted or, at least, regrooved immediately. Either they seek serious professional psychiatric help or they are out of the business for good. Their sociopathic actions have killed too many. Big Dave says, "Enough!"
They've got to go and get re-shrunk. Get their Wives out of therapy and put them in post haste.
We all know how lousy Ford pick-up trucks really are. To use them as a test bed for killer tires to be mounted on that Toy called an "Explorer", is beyond insane. These guys lied, cheated and killed all the way to the bank. NO MORE!! There must be some fine print in the Explorer Owner's Manual that says, "not
for 'exploration' beyond your own driveway!!
Hey Folks, these Ford Folks are nuts to think we believe their PR [non-permissible content removed]. Straight from the hearts of the leading PR Agencies in the World. Just watch, they'll do everything in their power to do the least possible they have to do. They'll never live up to Mr. Studebaker's Motto, "Give Them More Than They Expect",
except in the most macabre sense when they give you a $30,000. piece of crap with dollar store sneakers
and tell you that you can go crusin' the Interstate like you're drive a Pit Bull. Well, the Pit Bull has gout and it's killing people still TODAY. Let's join the Groundswell. Write to Ford and tell them the Executives must go back to square one or go to jail -- no passing GO and no collecting anything but what they deserve, a high-speed ride in a Firestone equipped Explorer or Ford Pick-up "designed to act like one". That won't be
hard, they already act like an aborted Yugo!!
Write your Congressman, your Senator, the D.O.T., the Pres. and Hillary too.
You are called to action, don't let this chance to right a wrong go by. Remember, "There is nothing to insure the triumph of evil but that good men sit idly by and do nothing." IT'S YOUR TURN, PUT YOUR SHOULDER TO THE BIG WHEELS AND PUSH 'EM OUT NOW!!!
Yours For Safer Truckin',
U.S.T.F. COMMANDER BIG DAVE-40
SOME MAY THINK THIS A CONSPIRACY DELUSION ... SUPREME COMMANDER BIG DAVE-40 CAN SMELL SNAKES AND KNOWS WHEN HE'S UNDER BIG TIME OBSERVATION FROM THE GOVERNMENT/OIL CARTEL ... READ ON ---
What's up is this: Someone out there - and we're not sure who - has provided the U.S. Gov. with information that Big Dave-40 is about to start a Nationwide Strike of all Pick-Up Truckers who make a living with their vehicles as he does. The scuttlebutt has it that Big Dave is going to rally the U.S.T.F. troops throughout the land to severely damage the Country's economy over these ridiculous oil and gas prices.
We fought that Gulf War for Halliburton and the other Oil Giants along with Saudi Arabia and Kuwait.
The Kuwait folks all streaked across the desert in their Mercedes (Many didn't make it do to overheating
problems while several U.S. models passed them using A.C. all the while!!) as our Troops were getting killed by Sadman's Goons and unguided missiles. All to save their asses and keep our oil supply flowing. Now look what we get. Our own GREEDY OIL MONSTERS cooperating with the Turbaned Poobahs with more damn money than brain cells, are stealing out of the pockets of the working men and women who need to use their trucks every day to earn a living. Some of our powerhouse buggies will suck-up $40. every time we need to fill-up and this is highway robbery (literally).
Word has it that Dave's Headquarters (rarely visited by anyone) has been the center of attention of
"gas meter readers" with manicured fingernails and ankle holsters that are plain as day. Several rather
plain vehicles, always with two men in each, both circle his neighborhood and park near the Headquarters
just watching. So far, Dave just smiles at them as they obviously take his picture. His telephone line is
most likely connected directly to the CIA? or FBI? or DOT? or the Energy Dept.? or who the hell else?
Yes, there have been the ominous black helicopters circling overhead both day and night. Not at all times, but enough to make you think this was Roswell, NM in area 47 or 51. Yes Folks, this is not a simple
conspiracy delusion. Somebody from the U.S.T.F. Inner Circle has tipped Big Dave's hand very early in the planning stages of an action that would bring Big Oil to its Big Knees in days. Just imagine if only 25% of the pick-up owners who use their vehicles for business everyday were to sacrifice just two days and just plain stop. Lock the door, take some naps, say hello to the Wife, Kids or Lady/Boy Friend and BUY NO DIESEL OR GASOLINE period. The prices would plummet back to reasonable levels slicker than crude oil in a hot pipeline. What if 50% of the Truckers decided to join us. How about if the 18-Wheelers took a liking to the idea. By the way, Poland was changed by one man who just said, "NO MORE" and a strike began that spread across the Country like wildfire closing all transportation, all factories ... it crippled the Country for a short time and created a revolution in which that one man became President. He's a well-deserved, very
courageous Hero of the common man. Big Dave-40's cut of the same cloth and the Feds know it. He's worked hard every day since before High School in his Family's highly successful business.
Big Dave's U.S.T.F. Headquarters is crammed full of electronic equipment and communication gear that would make the phone company envious!! The Feds know it and they know he can do as he pleases under the Constitution ... they just don't want it to happen in the WORST way, if you understand. So, are there any black helicopters around? Yes. Are there Agents who would stop Big Dave at any cost? Maybe so. Is Big Dave worried? Yes, but not afraid in the least. If and when he is ready to put his plans into action, it'll take a lot more than photo-snappin' fools and telephone tappers and broad band interceptors to deter the U.S.T.F. Leader from the job he sets out to accomplish.
Remember, "There is nothing to insure the triumph of evil but that good men sit idly by and do nothing". Why in the Hell did Dick Cheney make $4 MILLION DOLLARS IN SALARY AT HALLIBURTON OIL LAST YEAR??? Couldn't possibly have been his long-time hand-in-the-big-till Pals in D.C., could it?
The very man who'd like to be our Vice President. Hey, wake up everybody. This story isn't over by a long shot, but by airing out the things that are going on now may save some drastic trouble a little ways down the line.
PLEASE RESPOND WITH YOUR FEELINGS ABOUT THIS SITUATION. WHAT DO YOU THINK? MIGHT YOU MIGHT DO OTHER THAN SIT IDLY BY???? We want reasonable gas and oil prices now!!
God Will Keep Me Safe,
Big Dave-40
Supreme Commander U.S.T.F.
Ryan
Harry
They cant keep ya down
How bout some farm stories now? Surely ya must be havin a tale on that farmin now? Good luck on this one now!
or later. My time was sooner when I received a scratchy phone call from an "Amish Pay Phone Booth". (They keep phones away from where they live, often in shacks where rain fouls-up the connection and voice quality.) The voice on the other end was unmistakeable, an Amishman. "Hey", says he "you're the hearse driver for mules aren't you Jakey?" Half asleep, I thought some buddy was putting me on, so I said, "ya, sure, you got Jakey the mule hearse man." "What can I do for Abner", I enquired? (You call all Amishmen Abner if you don't know their names.) "Well, I got this mule ain't doing me no good no more cause he's dead and I gotta get him outa the front of my place cause my Wife don't like dead things and it's startin' to sticnk some, you know." "In a flash of brilliance, I replied, "I guess it does ... don't all dead mules stink Abner?" "Yeah, Jakey, you got that right and I'm Milo, not Abner." "Abner's my cousin." Do you know him Jakey?, he asked rather suspiciously." No, I don't really know Abner well", said I, "but how do I get to your place to get the mule?" "It's gonna cost you fifty bucks and you've got to have the men to load it on my truck." "It's against my Religion to lift dead mules." "Really, Jakey, and what religion might that be?" I told him I was sorry but that it was also against my Religion to tell him the name of my Religion. "That would be too Worldly", I said. He replied, "Well Jakey, I certainly understand that, but do you think you could make it $35.00 for the mule carcass?" I shouted, "Hell no, I was going to get you for $75.00 plus mileage but I kinda felt you were the type of man that deserves a break." "Maybe not." "Oh no Jaakey", he said quickly, "I am that type of man and I deserve a break for true" "Fifty it'll be and you'll get no more argument from me."
"To get to my place, you first pass
Intercourse on the way toward White Horse, passing Bird-in-Hand and when you get to the big street in Blue Ball, turn left and go 2.7 miles to the white place with a red barn and a green roof on the house
... that's me" "Name Milo Stoltzfoos is on the box." "You can't miss it."
Wearing my full respirator mask and
blasting the AC, I drove my Black Beauty into
Milo's spread just past dusk to see some 15
Amishmen, several with Coleman Lanterns
lighting-up the huge, dead mule. They told me it weighed between 1200 and 1500 lbs. dead. With a hoist hanging out of the upper barn window and hundreds of feet of 1" manila line, they manhandled the dead thing into my well protected cargo area (I'd stopped and bought a throw-away plastic drop cloth at the Hardware store to protect my sano super machine.) My Super Duty shocks and struts hardly budged when they dropped the big dead thing into the truck. Milo tried writing a check, but I reminded him about my Religion and how we only deal in cash. He looked cheated because he couldn't cheat me, which he'd loved to have done, and I
blasted off the the renderers. The
Flowmasters made a
beautiful sound on that quiet country night and Amish Farm, and just getting $50. from an Amishman is a jackpot rarely duplicated in my experience. If you need Jakey's Hearse, Just call Truck Force Dave. Next time I'll tell you about the $1,000.00 fine I helped a friend pay to his nasty ex -wife. He took 50,000 pennies and dumped them into my truck bed filled with corn syrup (on protective plastic sheeting). My job was to dump the whole load in her front yard and give her a note from him that said something like, "Here's your grand [non-permissible content removed], I hope you have fun taking it to the bank! She yelled, screamed and groaned and I told her, I'm Truck Force Dave, alias Jakey the Hearse Man, I
can't help you ... I just deliver in style!! If you've got a good story (and they have to be better than these), send them with pictures if possible and we'll make you a WEB-SITE STAR and send you a Truck Force Gift of great value. Well, sort of Great.
Send your story and Pic's to truckforce@webtv.net
http://community.webtv.net/truckforce/USTF
Ryan
- Tim
http://community.webtv.net/truckforce/yokos
I thought you took off the flares?
- Tim
None of the three were anywhere to be found at that time. Matter of fact, it wasn't until 7:30 that morning that Big Dave got a call from the local Constabulary saying that his friend Luke was, once again, in the tank and needed $53.00 to get out on a charge of Public Intoxication. Hank had the cash and was closest to the Police Station so he was elected to fetch Luke who was still unable to walk on his on. Once Luke was put to bed it was decided that they would depart on Thursday once Luke was sobered up and good-to-go.
He apologized profusely as always and swore he wouldn't touch another drop on the three day hunting excursion at Big Dave's mountain cabin some twenty miles from Wellsboro, PA. YEAH, that's it! Not another drop, that's the ticket!
Packing for the excursion meant a trip to the Supermarket, the Beer Distributor and the State Store ... not necessarily in that order. When all was said and done there was enough quick-fix food for at least five people for three days enough beer and spirits to cheer-up at least ten for that time frame. Why is it that pick-up truck hunters are never sure there's enough booze to hunt with. Big Dave's Crew was amply stocked even if they had to use the whiskey for anesthetic purposes.
Two and a half hours of driving and all three were carrying wood into the cabin for the stove. The unpacking process was arduous and necessitated considerable ethyl alcohol back up for one and all. By the time the shelves were stocked, the refrigerator filled, (who wants to freeze anything outside the cabin?) and enough wood stacked inside for the duration, it was well past time to stop drinking the green bottles that filled the bottom two shelves of the
Frig and get on to opening some more potent distillates.
With the important items taken care of Hank made a bunch of eggs with onions and toast for breakfast. Thereafter, everyone went fast asleep ... sleeping off the early morning imbibing. At around 2 p.m. Big Dave was stirring and getting the others active for the first big trek into the surrounding, deer infested woods. First off,
Luke had to check out his scope and he placed some tin can targets about 200 yards down into the valley and proceeded to adjust his scope until, after about 12 shots, he hit one can with the 30/30 and proclaimed his accuracy and expertise. Big Dave and Hank knocked off the other 4 can targets with two shots apiece. These three were ready for some venison.
The idea was to hunt in a wide line. Big Dave was in the middle with Luke and Hank on the flanks. They had all the orange on they needed and licenses in plain view. One thing they all agreed on, "we don't shoot each other". After an uneventful hour-and-a-half of beating back the bush as quietly as possible with only Luke getting a look
at one deer's back end as it ran in the other direction about 500 yards away. None had fired a shot. They whistled and came together and felt they ought to swing around and make a wide loop back towards the cabin. It was
getting colder and things weren't too promising.
Loop they did and headed for the cabin more than hour away at best. All were certain to have at least one field dressed buck in tow. Shortly after making the loop, Hank heard a rifle crack and a zinging noise through the nearby trees. Then Luke and Dave both had the same experience; distant rifle cracks and zinging bullets! Everyone was whistling to everyone else and the hunt's discipline eroded instantly as all three hit the deck. Some jackasses were shooting at them or, at something between them that caused the rounds to fly right around our pick-up pals. It was a war zone for about three minutes while some yahoos either thought deer stood on two feet and had orange hides or there were actually deer between them and us and we couldn't be seen. Big Dave rapidly fired 3 rounds into a safe nearby hill and the other shooting stopped immediately. Our fearless threesome stayed on the ground for near 10 minutes before venturing onward at a hunched-over half crawl for some hundred yards. They spread further apart as before and quietly made their way back to the cabin with nary a shot fired at any animal species. The "close call", "nearly being killed" was more than enough to get all three back into the sauce, the fire, the tube (oh yes, TV in them thar woods) and more food.
The following morning Luke was VERY under the weather! The close call was a bit too much of an excuse for Luke. He had gotten toasted and then some. Big Dave and Hank had to load him into his bunk at the end of the evening. Anyhow, Luke had his rifle and was leaving the cabin quickly. It looked like he was about to lose his dinner. Big Dave and Hank were peering out the window when they saw Luke sitting over a small fallen tree for a toilet with his rifle by his side and all the while leaning forward and losing the contents of his stomach. Then, in an instant, a very large 8-point (or more) Buck snuck up behind Luke and was actually sniffing at his rear end. Luke had no idea the huge animal was anywhere. He was too busy front and rear. Then the Buck must have either touched him or made a sound because from the window you could see Luke trying to grab his rifle and shoot it over his shoulder. There were 3 loud cracks and then Luke was busy with the paper and pulling-up his clothes. He'd stopped up chucking and was now looking for the surely dead Buck. From the window Big Dave and Hank watched the graceful animal take one huge leap and was up to speed in an instant. Luke never had a shot or even a chance. That deer didn't like something about Luke's rear end for sure!
The following day was to be the end of the hunt. After some early morning dances with ethyl, all agreed they'd wait until early afternoon and be fully sober before picking up any guns. True to their plan, they snoozed off the morning sauce and prepared to try the woods in another direction. Nobody was feeling too good at that point. It was fruitless. Almost like someone had warned the deer and other hunters that Dave, Luke and Hank were out and about. Once again, with semi-disciplined precision they trekked for more than an hour then looped again and returned to the cabin sans deer. Disappointed in the extreme, they began watching the tube, eating and, of course, drinking again. Soon it was clear they weren't driving anywhere that night. Big Dave was the designated driver and he decided that they had to spend overnight and leave fully sober and go home the next morning. That they did, and this year's hunt was done. All deer remained safe, as did the hunters – but the stories they told back home were endless stretches of the truth. Kind of like fishermen; the War Zone, the HUGE BUCK, etc., etc.
Big Truck Force Pick Up Bumper Sticker Contest With Secret First, Second and Third Prizes -- Submit your entries today!!
Here's an example:
"Yes, This IS My Pick Up Truck." "No, I won't help you move."
All winners notified prior to Christmas 2000!
certainly be kind and generous in your forgiveness for such a lengthy delay between Road Reports.
This most recent adventure,(read "debacle"), began with a long planned trip to hear the Mormon Tabernacle Choir in Salt Lake and have a gander at that Organ! It was well worth the stop. The Spiritual Singing and that tremendous
instrument would lift any unbeliever as well as any that had a connection with The Man Upstairs. Well, it blew me away. Kind of put me in an altered state
for a few days... a kind of mind set where you do things without giving them quite enough logical thought first.
My serious unthinking actions started at a fast food spot some distance South of Salt Lake. My Truck, as most of you know, draws a crowd wherever it's parked and sitting in the lot at this hash house was no different. I finished-up my chow and after a rest stop headed for the parking lot where several admirers were gawking in, around, and under the Big GMC Sierra 2500 that makes a sweeter noise than Maynard Ferguson on his trumpet! One of the fellows asked if he could see the engine compartment. I, of course, replied in the affirmative - always wanting to do anything to boost interest in pick-em ups no matter what I'm doing. The fellow was blinded by the chrome and sano condition of the big box and asked numerous questions about intake and exhaust valves, carburetion and my high-trick, Dual Flow Master,full-flow exhaust system with the concert tone like no other.
This Gent was much impressed in general and wanted to know how much I had invested in the rig. I told him as near as I could recall and he flat-out
said, "by damn I'ma gonna get me one of them". He then said he'd need a bigger cab, like a four door, because of transporting all his wives. I said, "what!". He then explained that he was what you call a polygamist. That's a man with more than one and sometimes several wives. Well, he sure had my attention by that time. I asked, "How many do you have?" After swearing me to secrecy, he told me, "six". Said they were, "All wonderful women who loved him dearly and
were never jealous of each other." I couldn't believe it so he invited me to follow him to his home hidden in a small canyon-like setting some 20 miles away,
On arrival at his very rustic but highly livable digs, he introduced himself as Opra Ding and introduced me to two of his buds who were there at the time. They were brothers, also polygamists named Coot and Harold Simms. Each of them had five wives and loved every one of them. After meeting the happy wives, I became convinced that these folks had something going for themselves and they were all enjoying it. During subsequent conversations, I evidenced an interest in this polygamy thing and wondered how I could get involved. When the three men heard that, they were nearly jumping with joy. Seems that between them they had four daughters all between 18 and 22 years of age who'd never been married or with any man in a serious way and they thought I'd make a wonderful husband for all four of them. I said, "whoa, that's a bit many to start out with isn't it?"
I was assured it was a good round number and they'd all be happy staying together because they were raised together. Next thing I know, in marches Lulu,
Harriett, and Charlene Simms and Flossa Ding. They all looked quite a lot alike. All were very pretty and well proportioned as Truck Force Folks might
like. They talked about themselves and how much they wanted a Man to marry. They even started feeling my arms and legs and slipped a little touch here and there. Well, it wasn't long before a deal was struck. There'd be a mass wedding ceremony the next day and I'd have four wives. The Fathers were Gentlemen to the end and offered a fully paid month-long honeymoon for the five of us in Maui, Hawaii where they knew a realtor who'd find us the perfect hideaway on the beach were we could get to know our new mates.
We flew out of Salt Lake for LA and on to Hawaii in a faultless bit of scheduling. At the Honolulu Airport we were met by the Realtor Friend who
had chartered a six passenger plane for a private flight to Maui. All the secrecy surrounding the whole operation intrigued me but I was too Wife-Happy to bust any bubbles by asking silly questions. Very shortly we had rented a nearly
new Club Cab Chevy pick-up, taking a cue from Father Ding, and were following the Realtor to our Shangri-La on the Blue Pacific Ocean.
Once settled-in and lunch over we were dressed in bathing suits that each Wife had put on for me in an almost ceremonial fashion. Very pleasant. I
suggested that on our first night they draw straws to see which would be sleeping in my bed. That didn't go over very well at all. Their plan, which we
would follow was to draw straws as to who would be first to make hay with me. And, I wouldn't be finished 'til Flossa, Lulu, Harriett and Charlene were fully knowledgeable in the art of love making in all its varieties. The next day after a visit to the local Doctor for some cream to soothe my angry skin, I made
a call to a Truck Force Pal in Salt Lake. "Commander Dave, where the hell are you?" he asked. I told him Maui with some new friends and I planned to spend the month. He then related to me a tale that had all the hair standing up on my neck. Seems that this polygamy stuff is against Federal Law and the word was out that some guy had married four young women a few days back and that they might be in Hawaii on a four-on-one Honeymoon! I said, "No way Dude, are you sure about this?" He said, "Hey Big Dave, cut me a break, I just read it in today's paper." "So, keep your eyes open for some character with his eyes bulging out and four Ladies on his arms." "You can tell him that the Feds really want to talk with him big time."
I was shaking when I got off the phone. I knew something had to be wrong with this set-up but NOT a Federal Offense! I was a wee bit scared out of my wits and away from my eight new [non-permissible content removed]. Too much for one head. I was fast
moving to overload when I made the decision to end this illegal multi-legged love affair and get my back side out of trouble as fast as possible.
I confronted my "Wives" straight out. I told them that the Federal Law was looking for us in Hawaii and it wouldn't take a genius to know that Maui would be first choice for a month-long fivesome. I was firm. They'd have to fly back to Salt lake two at a time on different airlines and I'd meet them back
at the Ding hideaway. There was no alte
OF THE U.S. TRUCK FORCE
HELD IN LAS VEGAS, NEVADA
8/27/00 THROUGH 8/31/00
Convention Headquarters: HOTEL MANDALAY
Tail Hook now takes second place as the Convention of Conventions!! The U.S.T.F. contingent headed-up by Big Dave 40, Our Leader, at the front table with the lady "dancing" on his lap(?) Has moved swiftly to First Place. It was
The Mother of All Conventions. Truck Force Members from around the Country roared past the Pyramid and the Sphinx to get where the real action was: Big Dave's Penthouse Suite with a Bunny-like Wait Staff eager to please.
This was NO ordinary Convention. Big Dave cancelled all Business Meetings until the 2001 Convention, the First of the New Millennium. His personal Astrologer and his Tarot Card Reader both advised that the alignments were perfect for Partying Hearty and all decorum was thrown to the wind ... along with a not insignificant amount of money. Nobody gambled away their get-home gas money, and many actually won a few thousand here and there.
Husbands and Wives alike found themselves drawn into the whirlwind created
by Big Dave's enthusiastic and plush Delegate Welcoming Party at the Mandalay. Caviar, lobster, steak-ka-bobs, pate and a river of Wine and John Barleycorn took the edge off of everyone and clothes off a few as well! It was all
good clean fun, including the wet "T"shirt and wet shorts contests. Delegates and a few very nice gate crashes mingled, danced and squirmed throughout the
3-bedroom suite and spacious balcony overlooking the fabulous neon City from
dusk 'til near dawn of the first night.
There was truck talk and laughter everywhere and nobody lost their bearings badly enough to meet Las Vegas's finest. Big Dave had heavy-duty Security Men in and outside of the Suite so that all Delegates felt perfectly safe to let their hair down and Karioke with no Karioke machine in sight. Some
high-sittin' Truckers took off their boots and let it ALL go, If they could talk, they sang. If they could walk, they danced. Quite a few seemed to be doing some version of an Indian New Truck Dance, never before seen in Vegas or anywhere else for that matter. Big Dave asks that all who are interested mark their calendars for the week before Labor Day 2001 for the Second Annual Convention also being held
in Las Vegas. Send no deposits, just let me know if you are interested in attending. Everyone will book their own reservations (anywhere near the Strip) and more news will be forthcoming as to exact dates, times and places of Convention activities. It promises to be Bigger and Better than the First - and that will be hard as hell to beat.
here's some pic's
http://community.webtv.net/dpinvegas/USTF1stAnnual
SUPER-SERIOUS RECALL OF FORD/FIRESTONE/BRIDGESTONE EXECUTIVE BRAINS
From Big Dave-40's Executive Suite - an exclusive, startling tale from the First Amendment Grapevine.
It seems that Ford Motor Company has put its big guns on the big tube to tell us that, "The Ford Family", stands behind all of its vehicles and won't stop until this Public Relations Debacle with Firestone and Bridgestone goes away ... kind of like the old Firestone 500 bedtime story. Most of you probably remember it: "Get Rid of Your Mother-In-Law, Buy Her a Ford Pinto with Firestone 500's on It".
Well, Ford is doing its level best to lie to you the way you want to hear it. How many Explorer owners were informed that their vehicle's tires were tested with (of all things) a Ford pick-up!!! The Ford Guys knew they were killing off the "Family" for at least five years!! It's been said that Firestone Workers and Management (along with Bridgestone) probably knew they were killing peeps (us'ns) for about ten Years before someone blew the whistle on them. Even our fine Government had some data that showed serious flaws as the carnage went on unabated!!
You might well ask, "What's next?" Well, wonder no more. Through his Worldwide contacts at every level
involved - from the bars outside the Firestone and Bridgestone Factories right down to the Gross Pointe
(correct spelling for these vermin) Country Clubs where laughter at wicked, killing crashes was not unusual - Our Leader, Big Dave-40, has come upon the latest scuttlebutt that ya'll need to know. THERE'S A GROUNDSWELL OF PUBLIC OPINION THAT IS NEARING TIDAL WAVE PROPORTIONS ...
IT'S A PEOPLE'S MOVEMENT TO RECALL ALL THE BRAINS BEHIND FORD, FIRESTONE AND BRIDGESTONE. Let's face facts: they need to be refitted or, at least, regrooved immediately. Either they seek serious professional psychiatric help or they are out of the business for good. Their sociopathic actions have killed too many. Big Dave says, "Enough!"
They've got to go and get re-shrunk. Get their Wives out of therapy and put them in post haste.
We all know how lousy Ford pick-up trucks really are. To use them as a test bed for killer tires to be mounted on that Toy called an "Explorer", is beyond insane. These guys lied, cheated and killed all the way to the bank. NO MORE!! There must be some fine print in the Explorer Owner's Manual that says, "not
for 'exploration' beyond your own driveway!!
Hey Folks, these Ford Folks are nuts to think we believe their PR Bull. Straight from the hearts of the leading PR Agencies in the World. Just watch, they'll do everything in their power to do the least possible they have to do. They'll never live up to Mr. Studebaker's Motto, "Give Them More Than They Expect",
except in the most macabre sense when they give you a $30,000. piece of crap with dollar store sneakers
and tell you that you can go crusin' the Interstate like you're drive a Pit Bull. Well, the Pit Bull has gout and it's killing people still TODAY. Let's join the Groundswell. Write to Ford and tell them the Executives must go back to square one or go to jail -- no passing GO and no collecting anything but what they deserve, a high-speed ride in a Firestone equipped Explorer or Ford Pick-up "designed to act like one". That won't be
hard, they already act like an aborted Yugo!!
Write your Congressman, your Senator, the D.O.T., the Pres. and Hillary too.
You are called to action, don't let this chance to right a wrong go by. Remember, "There is nothing to insure the triumph of evil but that good men sit idly by and do nothing." IT'S YOUR TURN, PUT YOUR SHOULDER TO THE BIG WHEELS AND PUSH 'EM OUT NOW!!!
Yours For Safer Truckin',
U.S.T.F. COMMANDER BIG DAVE-40
MANY STRANGE WAYS HAVE YOU PUT YOUR TRUCK TO USE?
Best Stories Win Truck Force Action Prizes!! In my neck of the woods, when the Amish don't know your name, you'll probably be called "Jakey" sooner
or later. My time was sooner when I received a scratchy phone call from an "Amish Pay Phone Booth". (They keep phones away from where they live, often in shacks where rain fouls-up the connection and voice quality.) The voice on the other end was unmistakeable, an Amishman. "Hey", says he "you're the hearse driver for mules aren't you Jakey?" Half asleep, I thought some buddy was putting me on, so I said, "ya, sure, you got Jakey the mule hearse man." "What can I do for Abner", I enquired? (You call all Amishmen Abner if you don't know their names.) "Well, I got this mule ain't doing me no good no more cause he's dead and I gotta get him outa the front of my place cause my Wife don't like dead things and it's startin' to sticnk some, you know." "In a flash of brilliance, I replied, "I guess it does ... don't all dead mules stink Abner?" "Yeah, Jakey, you got that right and I'm Milo, not Abner." "Abner's my cousin." Do you know him Jakey?, he asked rather suspiciously." No, I don't really know Abner well", said I, "but how do I get to your place to get the mule?" "It's gonna cost you fifty bucks and you've got to have the men to load it on my truck." "It's against my Religion to lift dead mules." "Really, Jakey, and what religion might that be?" I told him I was sorry but that it was also against my Religion to tell him the name of my Religion. "That would be too Worldly", I said. He replied, "Well Jakey, I certainly understand that, but do you think you could make it $35.00 for the mule carcass?" I shouted, "Hell no, I was going to get you for $75.00 plus mileage but I kinda felt you were the type of man that deserves a break." "Maybe not." "Oh no Jaakey", he said quickly, "I am that type of man and I deserve a break for true" "Fifty it'll be and you'll get no more argument from me."
"To get to my place, you first pass
Intercourse on the way toward White Horse, passing Bird-in-Hand and when you get to the big street in Blue Ball, turn left and go 2.7 miles to the white place with a red barn and a green roof on the house
... that's me" "Name Milo Stoltzfoos is on the box." "You can't miss it."
Wearing my full respirator mask and
blasting the AC, I drove my Black Beauty into
Milo's spread just past dusk to see some 15
Amishmen, several with Coleman Lanterns lighting-up the huge, dead mule. They told me it weighed between 1200 and 1500 lbs. dead. With a hoist hanging out of the upper barn window and hundreds of feet of 1" manila line, they manhandled the dead thing into my well protected cargo area (I'd stopped and bought a throw-away plastic drop cloth at the Hardware store to protect my sano super machine.) My Super Duty shocks and struts hardly budged when they dropped the big dead thing into the truck. Milo tried writing a check, but I reminded him about my Religion and how we only deal in cash. He looked cheated because he couldn't cheat me, which he'd loved to have done, and I
blasted off the the renderers. The
Flowmasters made a
beautiful sound on that quiet country night and Amish Farm, and just getting $50. from an Amishman is a jackpot rarely duplicated in my experience. If you need Jakey's Hearse, Just call Truck Force Dave. Next time I'll tell you about the $1,000.00 fine I helped a friend pay to his nasty ex -wife. He took 50,000 pennies and dumped them into my truck bed filled with corn syrup (on protective plastic sheeting). My job was to dump the whole load in her front yard and give her a note from him that said something like, "Here's your grand [non-permissible content removed], I hope you have fun taking it to the bank! She yelled, screamed and groaned and I told her, I'm Truck Force Dave, alias Jakey the Hearse Man, I
can't help you ... I just deliver in style!! If you've got a good story (and they have to be better than these), send them with pictures if possible and we'll make you a WEB-SITE STAR and send you a Truck Force Gift of great value. Well, sort of Great.
Send your story and Pic's to truckforce@webtv.net
http://community.webtv.net/truckforce/USTF
None of the three were anywhere to be found at that time. Matter of fact, it wasn't until 7:30 that morning that Big Dave got a call from the local Constabulary saying that his friend Luke was, once again, in the tank and needed $53.00 to get out on a charge of Public Intoxication. Hank had the cash and was closest to the Police Station so he was elected to fetch Luke who was still unable to walk on his on. Once Luke was put to bed it was decided that they would depart on Thursday once Luke was sobered up and good-to-go.
He apologized profusely as always and swore he wouldn't touch another drop on the three day hunting excursion at Big Dave's mountain cabin some twenty miles from Wellsboro, PA. YEAH, that's it! Not another drop, that's the ticket!
Packing for the excursion meant a trip to the Supermarket, the Beer Distributor and the State Store ... not necessarily in that order. When all was said and done there was enough quick-fix food for at least five people for three days enough beer and spirits to cheer-up at least ten for that time frame. Why is it that pick-up truck hunters are never sure there's enough booze to hunt with. Big Dave's Crew was amply stocked even if they had to use the whiskey for anesthetic purposes.
Two and a half hours of driving and all three were carrying wood into the cabin for the stove. The unpacking process was arduous and necessitated considerable ethyl alcohol back up for one and all. By the time the shelves were stocked, the refrigerator filled, (who wants to freeze anything outside the cabin?) and enough wood stacked inside for the duration, it was well past time to stop drinking the green bottles that filled the bottom two shelves of the
Frig and get on to opening some more potent distillates.
With the important items taken care of Hank made a bunch of eggs with onions and toast for breakfast. Thereafter, everyone went fast asleep ... sleeping off the early morning imbibing. At around 2 p.m. Big Dave was stirring and getting the others active for the first big trek into the surrounding, deer infested woods. First off,
Luke had to check out his scope and he placed some tin can targets about 200 yards down into the valley and proceeded to adjust his scope until, after about 12 shots, he hit one can with the 30/30 and proclaimed his accuracy and expertise. Big Dave and Hank knocked off the other 4 can targets with two shots apiece. These three were ready for some venison.
The idea was to hunt in a wide line. Big Dave was in the middle with Luke and Hank on the flanks. They had all the orange on they needed and licenses in plain view. One thing they all agreed on, "we don't shoot each other". After an uneventful hour-and-a-half of beating back the bush as quietly as possible with only Luke getting a look
at one deer's back end as it ran in the other direction about 500 yards away. None had fired a shot. They whistled and came together and felt they ought to swing around and make a wide loop back towards the cabin. It was
getting colder and things weren't too promising.
Loop they did and headed for the cabin more than hour away at best. All were certain to have at least one field dressed buck in tow. Shortly after making the loop, Hank heard a rifle crack and a zinging noise through the nearby trees. Then Luke and Dave both had the same experience; distant rifle cracks and zinging bullets! Everyone was whistling to everyone else and the hunt's discipline eroded instantly as all three hit the deck. Some jackasses were shooting at them or, at something between them that caused the rounds to fly right around our pick-up pals. It was a war zone for about three minutes while some yahoos either thought deer stood on two feet and had orange hides or there were actually deer between them and us and we couldn't be seen. Big Dave rapidly fired 3 rounds into a safe nearby hill and the other shooting stopped immediately. Our fearless threesome stayed on the ground for near 10 minutes before venturing onward at a hunched-over half crawl for some hundred yards. They spread further apart as before and quietly made their way back to the cabin with nary a shot fired at any animal species. The "close call", "nearly being killed" was more than enough to get all three back into the sauce, the fire, the tube (oh yes, TV in them thar woods) and more food.
The following morning Luke was VERY under the weather! The close call was a bit too much of an excuse for Luke. He had gotten toasted and then some. Big Dave and Hank had to load him into his bunk at the end of the evening. Anyhow, Luke had his rifle and was leaving the cabin quickly. It looked like he was about to lose his dinner. Big Dave and Hank were peering out the window when they saw Luke sitting over a small fallen tree for a toilet with his rifle by his side and all the while leaning forward and losing the contents of his stomach. Then, in an instant, a very large 8-point (or more) Buck snuck up behind Luke and was actually sniffing at his rear end. Luke had no idea the huge animal was anywhere. He was too busy front and rear. Then the Buck must have either touched him or made a sound because from the window you could see Luke trying to grab his rifle and shoot it over his shoulder. There were 3 loud cracks and then Luke was busy with the paper and pulling-up his clothes. He'd stopped up chucking and was now looking for the surely dead Buck. From the window Big Dave and Hank watched the graceful animal take one huge leap and was up to speed in an instant. Luke never had a shot or even a chance. That deer didn't like something about Luke's rear end for sure!
The following day was to be the end of the hunt. After some early morning dances with ethyl, all agreed they'd wait until early afternoon and be fully sober before picking up any guns. True to their plan, they snoozed off the morning sauce and prepared to try the woods in another direction. Nobody was feeling too good at that point. It was fruitless. Almost like someone had warned the deer and other hunters that Dave, Luke and Hank were out and about. Once again, with semi-disciplined precision they trekked for more than an hour then looped again and returned to the cabin sans deer. Disappointed in the extreme, they began watching the tube, eating and, of course, drinking again. Soon it was clear they weren't driving anywhere that night. Big Dave was the designated driver and he decided that they had to spend overnight and leave fully sober and go home the next morning. That they did, and this year's hunt was done. All deer remained safe, as did the hunters – but