I think I found Jimmy Hoffa in Nebraska

[Mike Handley]

My friend stares at his oil gauge as if the engine’s arteries are clogged, and we wait until the needle rises before we move. In rural Nebraska, where a man’s measure is judged by tallow and bushel, vehicles are merely means to an end -- better a mule than a show horse -- and they aren’t replaced until they’re beyond resuscitation.

 

When finally pronounced dead, old trucks are simply parked and left to the ragweed and to grandchildren unborn.

 

The grass in the headlights’ twin beams, white with a heavy frost and bowed like slept-on hair, promises a cold day away from the Chevrolet’s contrary heater. Later, with my back to a brisk north wind, I open the journal across my right knee and ponder what not to write on the fresh page.

 

Maybe I’ll not mention my suspicion that Jimmy Hoffa’s body is inside one of the many rusty mausoleums I pass daily on my way to hunt words.

 

[Jamie Hogan]

Damn, man. What not to say about this? How about I leave out the gushing and just fav this freaking masterpiece.

[Michael Arrington]

I love this piece; it's one of my favorites of the stories you've posted to this site.  Keep up the exceptional work.

[Gita]

I had to come back and say that this right here is your book. A painting with a short story on every page. No one else could do it as well.

 

[Joey Delgado]

Heavy frost on headlights, brisk north winds, and silos compared to "rusty mausoleums", I felt and saw it all in my 90 degree home in Southern California. And now here I am searching for ways to say, 'This is great.'

[Teresa]

"...ponder what not to write on the fresh page."  Love that.  Sometimes that's the best way to get into the crevices where we hide all the best shit.  And I love the painting.  Great job on the kids.  That must be so hard, painting people.  What looks most alive, Stephen King's Christine-like, is the green truck.  I see a spirit in it.  Strange.  Maybe Hoffa is in there.

[Angela]

I like the idea of not writing in my writing.  Such a different way of approaching things, and a fine six with a great picture.  I love the triumphant children, and do not remember seeing children in your work before.

[Gita]

You don't write for weeks. Then you write something full of heart and poetry, like this, and my admiration wells up once again.  A man's measure is judged by tallow and bushel -- yes. But some may also be measured by their ability to see the bow in the grass.

[Robert Crisman]

Old joke: What did they find when they scraped the make-up off Tammy Fae Baker? Jimmy Hoffa...

[Jeanette Cheezum]

old trucks are simply parked and left to the ragweed and to grandchildren unborn. Great line.

I kind of think the fish and crabs dined on him along the Chesapeake Bay.

[Cita]

Ah.  Today I will reverse my thinking and decide what NOT to put on the virgin page.  Thank you.