September 9, 2004
Tiger Ridgers
I mentioned Tiger Ridgers in an earlier comment, and since I haven't spoken of them in probably a year you may not know of whom I speak.
In north Effingham County, as opposed to the more civilized south portion, lived the Tiger Ridgers. On what was a dirt road between Shawnee and Clyo. No Man's Land, really. They were a cluster of 8 or 10 families, interbred for years, who lived dirt-poor existences in clapboard shacks (they couldn't afford the tarpaper to qualify for that designation). Suffering from dwarfism from inbreeding, they shunned contact with the outside. We used to ride down that dirt road in the Ranchero, my brother driving, me (11?) and my other brother hallooing at the Tiger Ridgers. They shot rock salt at us. A perfectly amenable relationship on everyone's part. Like a damned tradition, you might say.
My oldest sister graduated in 1969 with J.T. Rivers, the first Tiger Ridger to finish high school, it was said. He was a fucking retard, a paean to the early days of Social Promotion. All the Tiger Ridgers attended, in freshly pressed overalls, and white starched Sunday-Go-To-Snake-Handling shirts. It was impressive, by God. And no one was cut, the Ridgers being on best behaviour.
I need to drive up there again. It's a paved road, I'm told, and the Ridgers have spread the gene pool around a bit. I'd hate to see it gone forever, though. I'd pay a dollar to get one rock salt peppering, even a symbolic one.
They were all sitting on the first 2 rows in the gym clutching their Brownie cameras. When J.T. walked, it was like fireworks with all those flashbulbs going off. I'll go for a ride up there.
Posted by: Belinda at September 10, 2004 12:19 AMI've never understood the physics of rock salt loads... In books I sometimes read about grumpy old men with double-barreled scatterguns guarding their watermelon patches against raiding parties of hungry little heathens, but it always left me wondering: Does rock salt not break the skin (does it disintegrate on impact)? Or is it a combination of this with a reduced powder charge that keeps the old men out of prison?
Posted by: Justin at September 10, 2004 1:10 AMHell's bells, son. Every southern community has one, it seems. Where I come from it was called "the Midget Farm." Little piss ass shrinks running around with a pack of goats. Supposedly wilder than boar hogs with twice the attitude. More than one came back from a beer fueled adventure into the netherlands with a story of a 12 gauge being leveled at them. Stay away from the Midget Farm, they said. We always drove quickly past and lauched empty 12 ounce bottles out the open Dodge window as a calling card, then spent an hour or two wiping the bacon grease and rock salt off the rear quarter panels.
Posted by: bitterman at September 10, 2004 1:41 AMRock salt penetrates the skin and burns like hell if you're hit up fairly close. At a distance it just rains through the bushes and scares the shit out of you when you hear that shotgun going off.
Not that I would KNOW, or anything. I read that shit on the internet.
Posted by: Acidman at September 10, 2004 8:27 AMGood gawd, man. Now I know why I was told to never venture out past the traffic circle.
Posted by: mike at September 10, 2004 9:38 AMMy Grandfather used to say his brother spent a week eating at the mantle, as he got a load of salt in the ass. Seems the boys were trying to liberate some apples from the orchard of a no nonsense farmer.
They never went back.
Posted by: wes jackson at September 10, 2004 6:22 PMAre Tiger Ridgers related to 'Tater Ridges'?
Posted by: BryanH at September 10, 2004 7:11 PMpiss off u gay
Posted by: poo at June 18, 2005 10:57 AM