One hot summer day I was helping my Grandpaw work on our old rickety barn. We lived so far back in the sticks that the electric pole stopped in our front yard. Well it wasn’t long till I heard him mumble about something. When I turned around he was pulling a board with an old rusty nail from the bottom of his worn out Red Wings. After much debate, I finally convinced him that we needed to go see old Doc Jones in Mount Ida for a tetanus shot. After a bouncing, bucking, bone shattering 25 minute ride in his old worn out 39 Chevy P/U, that had the starter on the floorboard and a blanket over the springs in the seat, we arrived at the doc’s office.
After the doctor finished cleaning the wound in Grandpaw’s foot, he told him that he was going to give him a shot in the arm and that it would hurt a little. The first words out of Grandpaw’s mouth were, “Doc, I ain’t never been hurt but twice in my whole life.” The doctor stepped back and said, “Well Ray, when was that?” Grandpaw started telling about one day when he was out squirrel hunting when he had a pretty bad urge for a nature call. “Well,” he said, “I looked around and found a convenient log, walked over, dropped my overalls and sat down on a steel trap.” “Dang”, said the doctor, “I bet that DID hurt. Well when was the second time you got hurt?” Grandpaw looked at him and said, “ When that trap run out of chain.”
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