I was thinking this morning about when I first started working as Casino Inspector oh about 16 18 years ago now.. I been back to Trucking for 10 years now.
The first day on the Job I was talking to my new boss who took me out to lunch to shoot the shit. I was telling how I built this monstrosity of bench out in the garage by taking 24, 8 foot, 2X6 and laying then on there sides, slapping wood glue between them, then drilling 4 holes between them. Then running 1 inch all thread through the holes and bolting down the all thread to squeeze them all together. Essential making my own home made glue lambs for the top of the work bench.
I told him I sanded the top off and got it all smooth. I had the idea to pour a heavy clear resin on it. That epoxy kind they put on those fancy maple wood clocks. Hard stuff when it drys.
A buddy of mine came over and we got shuckin and Jiven in tbe garage, listen to music, wrenching on an old 1969 Chevy half ton pick up, I lowered and put a 550 hp stoker 383 in. The Sultan. After the song, Sultans of Suede There is alot of stories just about that truck. I puff canned it primer black, then steal wooled the whole body and puff canned about 50 cans of clear coat on it. The pant job looked like it was black suede standing next to it. I used do alot trick shit like that.. Just to stand out and make it differnt. Hense the Name Sultan. You could lay patch of black for block and a half easy. It Had pro cheetah ratchet shifter in it. Damn that truck was super fast and fun. With 3 in flow Masters running off Hooker headers everyone in the town knew when Sultan was heading their way.
Later someone told me the song is actually Sultans of swing not Sultans of Suede. I laughed pretty hard about that. All this time I been singing Sultans of Suede. I said, that truck hooks up pretty damn hard and everyone in town already knew it as the Sultan. So the name stuck.
One quick story. My ex wife and I went to the Kmart to pick up a Phooton set up and took the Sultan. Now, I’m very particular about who drives my vehicles. I don’t let many people drive my cars. Infact only 5 differnt women in the last 20 years I have let drive my car.
So my then wife, now has been itching to drive the Sultan for a while After asking me a bazillion times, I reluctantly let her get in the driver’s seat and give her the run down on the Cheatah. The cam on this motor loped so hard at an idle would almost waffle the hood. You’d be sitting at a stop light and just watching that 1969 America Steel hood just going up and down in the center of the hood as that Holley 850 gulped airflow. Lug lug lug and anyone around ya knew that whatever was under that hood was gonna smoke your riced out Honda with a fart can on it Street light to street light. So don’t even think about it punk.
She had Cheshire grin on her face and the Kmart fellas loaded up the Phooton in the back. Had the tail gate down because the filler for the gas was inside the bed of the truck I moved the gas tank from behind the seat and put it where the spare tire went under the bed of the truck. Routed the filler to the center of the wood bed behind the cab. Better traction with a full tank and so I could put some twelves behind the buckets. I told her, eeeease into it darling.
This ain’t your Suv. She the proceedes to drop the hammer and launched the truck forward so hard the Phooton stayed where it was at and landed on the ground behind the truck. I said, ok ok, now ya drove it now. Back over to the passenger seat woman! She laughed and yeah only 10 feet! I said, The Sultan ain’t for just anyone to drive. This is a man truck. She laughed and said Holy Cow! Can I do it again? Pleeeeeasassee! I looked at the Kmart dudes who loaded the Phooton and they looked at me, and said can ya help put that back in the bed. They said, sure but uhhhh if she does that again mister? You will have to load it back in yourself. So I told her. Over to the passenger seat missy. You had your fun.
I used to wrench in some pretty cool And super fast old cars and trucks. That is for another bunch of stories.
Anyway, back to the work bench.
I said I need it finish that work bench before it gets to greasy and dirty. First thing I did was thow out the instructions to the epoxy resin. I’m a man and I don’t take kindly to companies telling me I don’t know what I’m doing. I ain’t stupid.
So we poured the resin all all over the work bench. Boy Howdy it sure was pretty. I set up some propane heaters and we left the garage. 3 days later the bench was still pretty but the resin wasnt drying. My wife at the time says, you may want to check the instructions to make sure you didn’t miss a step. I grumbled and said it will be fine. It probably just takes while. Three more 5 gallon propane tanks later. I snuck out to the garage when nobody was looking and dug the instructions out of the garbage. It clearly said, pour in an environment of minimum 60 degree. When I poured it, it was 17 degrees out side. Shit.
So I mentioned to my boss about having a super shiney ginormouse work bench custom made but it useless as tits on a bull. He laughed and said, ya know my Grand Father was welder his whole life and did alot of side work. He passed a few years ago. I haven’t been out to his old place in the sticks in a long while. He may have a sheet of steel laying out there ya can cut and put on the top of that work bench for ya. You can just have it. I said that would be great.
So after work we went out to his old granpas place out in the sticks. As we rolled up a bunch of people ran out the back door. He said damn squaters. I hered they been braking in to sleep there. We walked over to the shop and sure as shit there was a 1/4 inch steel plate sitting there. When I got it home it was cut exactly to the speck of my work bench that I built 6 months prior to ever getting that job as a casino slot regulator. Exact cut. Sure as shit.
I loaded it up. He said let’s go in the house and see it. I haven’t been in it for a couple years. The house has been for sale but there is a big stink about who gets what and a fight with attorneys between my aunt and 2 uncle’s. So it’s just been sitting here for 2-3 years until all that gets sorted out.
We went in side the house and it was just destroyed inside. He got really sad. Some of the squaters tore off all the sheet rock to get the copper wire and piping so they could recycle it. The whole place was a mess. Sheet rock and insulation all over the floors. Place Smelled like piss really bad as well.
He stood there almost in tears. I just was quiet and didn’t know what to say. This was my first day on the job and I didn’t really know him. I just told him I’m sorry dude. He started Bitchin about his uncle’s and aunt fighting caused all this and how he grew up riding dirt bikes up here. Had lots of memories. After he got done cussing. He said let’s go. I said ok man. Sorry this all happened to your grandpas place.
As we were walking out, I hear a faint squeek. I stopped in my tracks. I said did you hear that squeek? He said it’s probably the floor squeeking dude. Let’s go. I stood there and didn’t move. He said let’s go dude I got shit to do an this place just makes me super pissed and sad. I didnt move.
I heard it again. So I ran over to where I thought I heard it. He said what the hell are ya doing man. I said shush! In my head I thought did you just tell your boss shush on your first day of work? Then he said the same thing. And I said shush again. Then I heard the tiny squeek again. It was right below me.
So I started digging through the sheet rock and pissed covered insulation. He says, oh shit I hired a lunatic and starts laughing.
I moved a pile of sheet rock and insulation about 2 feet deep. Under the very last piece of insulation I found 6 tiny little kittens. I mean tiny. I poked at them and they were all dead. I was like shit. Then of them not old enough to open it’s eyes yet. Squeeked. I swooped his ass up and took him over to my boss.
He said, how the hell did you hear that tiny little kitten, smaller than a dollar bill, under 2 feet of sheet rock and insulation. I said I don’t know. But I heard him. I said you want him? He said he probably gonna die anyway. All his brothers and sisters are all dead. He is maybe 10 days old. You dug him out of all that shit. You keep him.
So I put him in my shirt pocket and we went out to my truck and I had just bought a bottle of Tylenol and I took the cotton out and made a little bed for him in my shirt pocket.
I drove straight to the Vetsa nd they gave me some feeder bottles and told me I’d have to be momma and use a wet rag to wipe his little but so he would know to poop. They said ya ain’t gonna get much sleep and probably ain’t gonna make it. I said, oh he will make it. He will make it all right. You can bet on that. All the others died and he was strong enough to cry out loud enough to get my attention. Vet said your gonna have to set an alarm and give him a bath, couple times a day, and feed him every couple hours.
When I got home, my wife at the time made a little place for him in a shoe box. I put him on my night stand. Set an alarm and woke up every two hours, bottle fed him, wiped his but with a wet wash rag, so he would go poop.
I took him to work with me and kept him in my desk drawer. Making sure he ate, pooped and I gave him a wet bath with a sponge in the bathroom. Much to the chuckles of my boss and all my new co-workers.
He grew up big and strong. After 6 weeks my then wife said, what are ya gonna name him Mr. Momma kitty and laughed. I said I been called a lot of things in this life but Mr. Momma kitty is a first and laughed. I said I don’t rightly know. Havent really thought about it. I’m just glad I heard him and saved his little but from dying a horrible death under pissed covered insulation.
She said, you should name him lucky. I said Lucky? She said ya found on the first day at your new job as a Casino Slot machine regulator. He is lucky ya found him and he didn’t die and it’s fitting with your new job.
I said Lucky the Cat. I like it. Lucky the Cat it is. The she said, perfect. I said yeah it is. She says you know if you would have poured that resin on your work bench 6 months ago at the right temperature, you would never been there to hear him squeek. I said yeah, I realized that the other day too.
She said God knew that tiny kitten would be crying for his life with all his brothers and sisters dead, covered in darkness by insulation and sheet rock would need you to be there in 6 months. And God knows you are a stubborn man who doesn’t need no damn instructions Mr Momma kitty. Then she laughed.
I smiled and said yeah that too. She smiled and said, now can I drive the Sultan again to get milk for Lucky the Cat and kissed me on the cheek. I said Hell No woman! I may be a stubborn Mr Momma Kitty that does need no damn instructions but I ain’t that crazy.
Lucky the Cat died when he was 15 years old. Lived a long good life.
Cue: ~ Fast Cars and Freedom ~