The dump, yesiree it was the most wonderful place in the world for a kid and Tubby Nevada made great use of his local dump. Here is another true tale from the fat one.
My first recollection was of throwing rocks at the bottles with my gramps. He was a poor shot, or maybe it was he wanted me to be a better shot by having more opportunities for breakage. Yep it was a swell dump. We would lob big rocks at big bottles; throw small rocks at mason jars and on and on.
A friend had a wrist rocket slingshot and we had BB guns- off to the dump we would go on a bottle and jar hunt that would last all day. No one cared; the grumpy old bastard that ran the dump would just grunt at us but never throw us out. Now when you are done breaking things you get to find stuff. Wow the things I toted home, sure they were crap and broken but hey to a kid these are some kind of treasure. Yep it was a swell dump.
When Christmas approached we would go to the dump to pick and cut a tree. They were going to chop them down anyway as the dump expanded; we were doing a public service, yea. For many years our tree came from the dump, no charge, no hassles just a nice Douglas fir for the front room. Yep a thermos full of cocoa, a cold night, Mom, Dad, brother person and the smell of the rotting garbage. Memories of Christmas you just don’t forget.
One time it was really muddy as my gramps and I drove down to the very end of the trash heap to dump our cans. As we drove along my gramps showed me what a fishtail was and how you tuned into the skid all the while spraying the other cars and dumpers with a mud rooster tail. After dumping he said, “Here Tubby you drive.” I slid behind the wheel and mud flew as we slid and skidded, fishtailing wildly as he instructed young Tubby how to handle this wild beast. As we roared by the old man than ran the dump he was yelling at us and even with the windows rolled up I could hear him saying, you ass holes, quit flinging mud all over. I laughed we had gotten him too. After hitting the pavement I passed the wheel to gramps and he said, “Tubby some fun huh, what was that old dump bastard yelling, could you make it out?” Think he was saying watch out for the pot holes, yea that was it. Well it seems that in 10 minutes we dumped the trash; I got a driving lesson and pissed off everyone else at the dump. Yep that was some swell dump.
Later Tubby was old enough to drive himself; I would volunteer to make the dump run in the family station wagon. First you would pick up a few of your friends and when you hit the end of the black top and into the mud, the race was on. Tires spinning, mud flinging, egged on by my co-riders I became a race car driver one time damn near skidding off the bank on a fresh dozer cut. Me and my chums, breaking a few bottles, sneaking a ciggy, act the fool and spray everyone down with mud. Yep that was one swell dump.
One day I saw a sign that said the land fill was closing- WHAT! They must have a new place in mind, everyone needs a dump, but no they didn’t replace it, they just covered over the last of garbage and put a chain across the entrance. No more rats, bottles, junk, mud flinging, Christmas trees. Yep it would soon be closed and part of a fat lad’s life would forever be changed.
They opened a transfer station; you would drive into a building and dump your trash into a semi trailer. No rats and please don’t waste time, don’t break or throw bottles, just do it business like and efficient. Scale in scale out and pay as you leave. Might as well just get garbage service at the house rather than this, and we did. Oh for the fun days of a dump, history now just a memory. I could see a whole generation of kids growing up not knowing the pleasure of seeing a rat do about three summersaults after getting hit with a 22 caliber long rifle. Shooting the screen out of a console TV. Finding a dead cat or dog and poking it with a stick. A free tree, for gosh sakes a free frigging Christmas tree. Poor kids and Tubby Junior was going to be one of them.
Tubby Junior grew up with the transfer station, and would marvel at the tales of the dump, rats, bottles, trees- wow, and then one day a full fledged Edison light bulb idea hit the fat one. What had happened to the dump? I took my old truck and pulling into the area I see that other than a hill of dirt where the last pile had been and no garbage, it was the same. As I sat looking it over I realized this was the perfect place to take the dirt bikes and could see that others had already been tearing at the fragrant ground. Wow it still did stink, yep reminded me of Christmas!
Saturday morning I loaded Tubby Junior and our dirt bikes into the family truckster and off we went. We unloaded on the county easement, raced up the old dump road and stopped. I pointed out all the swell areas I had used at this dump as a kid but before I could finish Tubby Junior fired up and left me sitting covered in mud. We raced each other; hill climbed and then drove through some puddles of green goo oozing from the old dump pile. I turned to the little tubster and said,”This will be or favorite new riding spot, we can ride here forever!” Yep this was one swell dump.
Loading the dirt bikes I looked over and seeing a yellow sign I investigated. “NOTICE“it said when you see those words it is never good news. The sign said they were going to start building houses soon and this dump ride would probably be our last. “So who would want to build and live on top of an old landfill anyway,” Tubby Junior asked? The rich, yesiree they build these huge houses, the rich buy them then sue the county because the houses stink. They win after a judge smells the house and they get richer. Build it on garbage, your house smells like a fresh pair of shit pants; sue somebody, sounds logical to me, but then that is a different story. This story ends as it started with –Yep that was one swell dump and I hope you had a swell place or dump in your life too. Thanks for the visit and Tally-Ho fro Tubby