The title of this article makes sense if you know that it was painted on a rock truck owned by a man that also owned and operated a Lime Spreader. If you had met this fellow you would realize it was probably one of his more serious moments when he came up with it. Oscar 'Winky' Eldridge was one of the most spell binding story tellers this writer ever met.
Winky hauled either rock or lime from the Kentucky Virginia Stone Quarry at Gibson Station, Virginia in the 70's. At least that was when I knew him. I left there in 174 and lost touch with him.
The scalehouse at the quarry was an old building with more than a half century of dust embedded in the cracks between the boards, and no amount of sweeping compound could get rid of it. The only thing that helped was oiling the floor from time to time to muck it up and keep it out of the air.
There was an old pot-bellied stove, and everywhere there's a pot-bellied stove in the mountains, there are men gathered around telling stories. This was the case one morning there at Gibson Station when Winky had loaded his rock truck, brought it to the scales, got out, and came inside. There was a great mind expanding conversation being held concerning deer hunting at the time.
These were serious deer hunters. The quarry was located in the Powell Valley where the mountains are high, and the
Cumberland Gap National Park was a safe refuge for the deer, in the off season. Deer the size of horses with huge racks are a common sight along Hwy.58 at night. They stand majestically, watching the cars and trucks that pass, startling unsuspecting drivers into the realization of how magnificent they are in the darkened backdrop of the valley.
The discussion was that of how big the buck was that Quinton, Pig, Sam, or Roy had seen. It went from there to how they got the big one that had taken the year before, and to stories about people they knew who had always taken on larger than the previous story tellers example. It was a serious conversation with suggestions to where the largest deer could be found, what time of day they were likely to be there, and every other detail right down to the best gun to use. That was where Winky walked in.
His story began with, "I got a 12 pointer the other day, and I'm still not sure how it happened."
That statement brought a puzzled look to the faces of the great hunters present. They all got stone cold quiet waiting to hear what had happened, and Winky was all too ready to tell them.
He started his tale to a deadly serious captive audience, "I was out walking through the woods up the mountain from the house. It was about mid morning and I was looking for deer sign to find a good place to hunt the next time I got the chance to go." (Winky never let anything serious interfere with his enjoyment, life was meant to entertain him, and he did whatever he wanted, despite the consequences.)
The looks of understanding were unanimous. They had all done that, and they understood. He continued, "I had eat a big breakfast that morning, and I had to go. I propped my rifle up against a tree, you know Quinton, it was that 30.06 I got from you."
At this point Quinton shakes his head in an affirmative motion and says, "That's one of the best guns I ever had, and I wish I hadn't let you talk me out of it."
After that Quinton shook his head in a negative motion to his displeasure with having let Winky have the gun.
Winky went on, "Well, I walled over to this big fallen beech tree, sat over it, and was right in the middle of doing my business when I heard that rifle go off."
This brought some about a unanimous low volume, "Ooooh," from the listeners which then went back to silence while they waited to hear what happened next. Winky's face was a serious as the rest, and at that point the quarry Superintendent, Sherwood Williamson had gotten spellbound listening to the story. The rock crushers could have gone silent and nobody would have gone to the window to see why their tremendous roar had stopped, the story was all that mattered.
Winky motioned saying, "I pulled my pants up and ran towards the tree where I had left the gun. When I got there I could see that the gun was no longer leaning up against the tree, it was on the ground, and beside it was that buck, dead as could be."
Now the look of puzzlement finally took on a vocal form when one of the listeners asked, "What do you think happened?"
Winky looked up and said, "The only thing I could figure out was that the deer walked up, pulled that gun up under its throat, pulled the trigger and blew its brains out."
At that point he slapped his leg and ran out of the scalehouse laughing, jumped into his truck and drove away. The stunned pro-hunters had been had by yet another Winky Eldridge story, and the bad part of it all was that they had all taken him seriously for the duration of the tale. They should all have known better, but Winky was an expert when it came to telling tales.
Winky's only weakness when it came to BS was not caring who he sprang it on, or how serious the situation. Virginia is known for its tough laws concerning trucks. They take weight serious on their roads, and when you drive on the smooth Virginia roads you can experience the result of their attitude on this subject.
The biggest fear of the Virginia Trucker was to have their truck weighed and inspected by the "Weighmen," as the DOT Officers were called. In a one week period Winky had been cited three times for being overweight, and a few other infractions found along with the weight violation. On Friday of that week he went to court for the third time.
Winky said he knew he was in trouble, so when his name was called he stood in front of the judge and waited while the judge read the citation. After reading it the judge said, "Eldridge, this is the third time this week you've been in here, what do you think we should do about this?"
Winky, in typical fashion looked up as serious as could be at the judge and said, "Well, your honor, I'm perfectly willing to throw this out if you are."
Winky got out of jail the following Monday, and had a hefty fine to pay. If I remember correctly it was $3000. A huge fine for 1974, but Winky was not to be denied his attitude.
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