Yesterday I wrote about cowboy hats, boots and riding horses. I learned today that, even if I sported the hat and the boots and climbed on a horse, there is no way I could ever relate to being a Montana Rancher. Sarpy Sam (a real Montana Rancher) at Thoughts from the Middle of Nowhere, points to an article that says, “You know you’re a Montana Rancher if…” Here is a sample (along with some Garden State observations):
You know you’re a Montana rancher IF…
you know how to spell heifer, Hereford and Charolais.
Hell, many folks in Jersey have trouble spelling, “Yo!”
you know someone who’s lost a digit to a rope, a chain saw or a skinning knife.
Here one loses a digit (usually the middle one) by displaying it to the wrong guy.
you put old tires on top of haystacks, shingled roofs and the outhouse.
Haystacks? Outhouses? We do have shingled roofs, but … putting tires on them? WTF? We generally keep the tires on our cars.
You think a traffic jam is waiting to pass a tractor on the county road.
Wow! Talk about a cultural divide!
you measure distance in miles, not minutes.
Miles don’t mean doodly squat in Jersey. We always talk time, because a three-mile drive can often take an hour depending on the road and the time of day.
you’ve been to tractor rallies or draft-horse shows or mule log-pulling events.
I’ve never been to any of the above events nor did I know that there are such things. In fact, I’ve never seen a live mule, or a dead one, for that matter. I somehow think that if I were to attend one of these events, the spectators might sense that I am not “from there.”
you’ve seen people wear bib overalls at funerals, weddings and the annual Christmas pageant at the church.
If someone were to show up at a wedding or funeral in bib overalls, everyone would assume that he came directly from work on Broadway where he had a gig in the chorus of a show like “Shenandoah.”
you see pickups, with no one in them and with engines running, parked in front of stores and bars no matter what time of year.
They’d last about three minutes here.
you get a kick out of explaining what’s a Testicle Festival to dudes.
Is this a Greenwich Village-type event?
taking your drink in a “go cup” from the local bar is a time-saver.
This would be a great way to meet and greet a Jersey State Trooper, most of whom have the sense of humor of Ivan the Terrible.
your blood pressure rises when you have to drive in a city of more than 8,000.
For us, that’s a trip to the “country.”
Driver’s Education was a joke for you and your classmates since you’d all been driving since the age of 10.
Around here, the only people who drive that young are apprentice car thieves.
I’d like to add one to the list, if I may.
You know you’re a Montana rancher…IF,
you’ve never had a decent slice of pizza.