Ray Bubba and The Law
Just a very short story about a friend of mine.
To say that Ray Bubba Hardy is a redneck is about the same as saying a Rolls Royce is a car. The good Lord must have seen fit to lump everything redneck into Ray Bubba. From the very beginning Ray Bubba was stricken with the traits. He was born the third son in a mobile home with three junk cars on blocks in the front yard and seven dogs that lived under the front porch. The only running water in the house came when it rained.
Ray Bubba got his first pickup truck when he was 15 years old. That was also the same year he got his first pair of overalls that were not hand-me-downs. The truck was a 1961 Chevrolet with no tailgate and two different size tires that made it set a little funny. The rear glass was missing as well as the inside door handle on the driver side door. It had a small Confederate Flag on the left end of the rear bumper and a sticker on the right end that read "PORE BUT PROUD". His daddy traded a hog and three gallons of moonshine to Zeke Walker for the truck. A real bargain!
When he was 21 years old, Ray Bubba finished high school ninth out a class of nine. So far, the eleventh grade had been the best three years of his life. During that time, he had four girl friends, never mind that two were cousins. Marie Anne was the best looking of the four simply because of the fact that she almost had a mouth full of teeth and dipped snuff only on occasion and most of the time her shoes matched.
Now working at the sawmill, Ray Bubba was able to finance a used 1989 Ford pick up with only 87,000 miles showing on the odometer. This truck actually had all its operating parts. Ray Bubba was proud!
Ray Bubba always made a point of not having more than two six-packs of PBR (Pabst Blue Ribbon Beer) in the truck at any one time. He said he knew when to say when and when was the time when all the beer was gone. On this particular night, he had finished a long shift at the sawmill and stopped by a local convenience store where he purchased two six-packs. The first six-pack was gone before he left the parking lot. On his way home and working on the second six-pack, he did not notice the Deputy Sheriff following behind him. As he rounded a curve in the road, the truck tires ran off the pavement onto the shoulder of the road. Realizing what had happened, he quickly pulled it back on the road. The faint blue lights now flashing in his inside rear view mirror were an unwelcome surprise. The faintness of the lights was caused by the tobacco spit on the rear glass. Not too long after Ray Bubba got the truck and not realizing that this truck was different(actually had glass in the rear window), he turned around to get rid of a mouth full of Beech-Nut and covered most of the back glass.
As fate would have it, Ray Bubba had finally run afoul with the law, to be more exact Deputy Tom Mayhew who he never had much use for since the fifth grade. It seems as though Tom and Ray Bubba both liked the same girl that year. Nancy Jean Reynolds was the object of their obsession in such a way that usually led to a fight when they got close to one another.
They both pulled to the side of the road and Deputy Mayhew approached Ray Bubba's truck and told him to get out. Ray Bubba mustered every drop of politeness he could and said "good evening Tom, nice night aint it." "Why Ray Bubba Hardy, is that you?" Ray Bubba replied, "damn sho is." "I been meaning to call you" said Tom, "you know that girl we used to fight about in the fifth grade?" "yea, yea" said Ray Bubba. "Well I've been wanting to tell you that I should have let you have her back then."
Tom went on to tell Ray Bubba how he and Nancy Jean had gotten married while he was overseas in the Army, she had been with just about everyone that came along. All this resulted in a divorce for the two.
I just happened to pass the spot where they were stopped that night and what I saw was Ray Bubba Hardy and Tom Meyhew sitting on the tailgate of that old Ford talking about hunting dogs, pickup trucks and who was going to win the Atlanta 500 that year. O yeah, from what I could see, they were finishing the last two PBRs.
COPYRIGHT ©1995, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
REVISED ©1997, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
JERRY W. BATTLE, SR.