The "Un" Real Texas By Steve Bussiere, humorist
I have a really good buddy that, for arguments sake, I'll call Alton.
I think he'd like that name, because, oddly enough, his mother picked the same one for him. This was long before I ever met him, so apparently she and I have the same taste in names.
Alton is a great guy, and he makes, absolutely, the very best jerky in Texas, which is the same as saying, in the world.
Alton is very picky about the people he hangs out with, but he lets me hang out with him anyway. I think it's a sympathy thing for the immigrant.
If I ever grow up, I think I'd like to be like Alton, someday.
He has, (with all due respects to Boz), absolutely the finest garage in Texas, which, as I noted earlier, is the same thing as saying, in the entire world.
Boz, to give credit where it's due, has a really fine garage too, with surround sound. This is something which gives him additional "style points", and has him a really close number two in the great garage contest.
Alton even shared his jerky recipe with Boz, who is admittedly a novice in the "jerky world" of Texas. I haven't noticed anyone writhing in agony in his driveway, so I can only surmise that the recipe is working out for him. This has an added side benefit of helping keep the neighborhood "litter free", (unless you count the cats, … and there are too many cats.).
Alton has probably got the biggest heart of anyone I have ever met, but Boz makes awesome chicken wings, so there's a wash there, somewhere.
In the place from whence I have been exiled, garage parties did not exist. One would have to serve frozen entrees for the greater part of the year.
Back home, we parked the vehicle in the garage in the hopes that it would start in the morning. I'm pretty sure that I like this set up better.
Boz, deep fries his wings in oil. I'm not certain as yet whether this is a Texas petroleum thing, or if he was inspired by one of his old Harley's.
Alton doesn't deep fry anything, so far as I know, but he can cook up a storm on his smoker.
They both have beer fridges in their garages, so again it's a sister kisser.
Alton has some really amazing old toys and the like in his garage. Boz has a Harley in his, which kind of gets in the way of the football game, but it looks nice. And the ladies like it too.
Sometimes I think I should get one of those "Harley" things for my garage too. I wouldn't attempt to ride the thing, so it wouldn't even need an engine that runs. That might save me some money, perhaps. But none the less, my garage would look a lot better than it does currently.
Who knows, I might make the front cover of "Better Garages and Gardens" or something.
I'm not so big a fool that I wouldn't realize it was likely because of the "Harley" thing, with the non functional, infernal combustion engine, but it would be good for my currently bruised ego.
Bob, (we spoke about him in the last column), has a garage as well, … but I've never actually seen the inside of it. My guess is that it's probably full of cats though. Bob loves his cats, hence the title of his company, "Fat Cat Productions", (just one of the 1,843 projects we had on the go last week.")
As I also mentioned in the last column, Bob likes to cook "weird" things.
I really think it would be a lot better if I never do see the interior of his garage, given that scenario. The name "Fat Cat", frankly, worries me, although Bob doesn't look Chinese any more than I look "Texan" in my ten gallon touque. (that's a French Canadian version of a "garcon vache" hat, as a matter of clarification. Kinda sorta like a ski hat for the linguistically limited.)
There is a reason that the Frenchie folks escorted me out of Quebec years ago. ("AAAAY Henglish, go dat way han see hif you can discover someplace 'ot.") It was only a few years ago I realized where they were really telling me to just leave quietly.
Well off I wandered, and I missed Lowsyanna by a few miles, but I discovered "Alton's Garage" and Boz's, "Garage Party World Headquarters."
Next I'm going to begin my search for the disabled Harley thing.
I'd search out the garage sales, but I can't due to the fact that they are legal everywhere in the world except in The Woodlands, it would definitely increase my "degree of difficulty" to an un bearable level.
I think they're illegal because it would be too difficult to police the food sales and Marvin Zindler might show up in town. If he were born in Montreal like me, his snippets on garage sales and Harley things would have been renamed "Ice on the slime Machine".
Over the Christmas Season, I drove around several neighborhoods to look at the decorations. Then I had an idea.
Now that Spring is fast approaching, I think I'm going to drive through the same neighborhoods and check out garages, … and garage parties, …. and food, … and disabled Harley things.
And maybe, just maybe, I might find one even better than Alton's.
But I doubt it.
That's why I'll start from his garage and leave a trail of bread crumbs behind me as I go.
Then I'll legally change my name to Hansel.
But then again …
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