Since we're still talking about Christmas....
I watch too much Dateline for my own good. There is something about a real-life murder mystery that reels me in every Friday night (I have a crazy exciting social life), then in turn makes me run as fast as I can from the barn to the house after the 5:00 AM feeding, unsure of what lurks in the early morning hours outside Economy, Indiana. Dateline does nothing for my mental health.
So, you can imagine the thoughts that went through my head when Cody stood at the bottom of our stairwell on the Wednesday before Chritsmas and said that a truck driver was broke down at the intersection of 1 and 35 and needed a ride to Economy. A few questions I had for him:
1. Who has ever needed a ride to Economy?
2. Why did you even tap the breaks when he flagged you down? KEEP DRIVING AND DO NOT MAKE EYE CONTACT!
3. Doesn’t he have AAA?
4. Do you have a weapon?
5. Do you want me to follow you?
Of course, Cody thought all of my questions were ridiculous. He reported that the man crossed the 1 and 35 intersection to flag him down to ask for help, and Cody felt compelled to do so.
Ten minutes later, Cody texted me: “This is the wildest trip ever. Wait until I tell you.”
I hoped he would live to do so. I was packing for our Christmas trip to Kansas with two kids and my feet and anxiously awaited his return home.
The trucker’s name was Spanky. You read that right. He revealed that he was from central Kansas, and while he typically hauled livestock, this particular assignment to gain some extra cash for Christmas (he was married with children) had him hauling a load of batteries to Muncie, Indiana. The fact that he was from central Kansas certainly made Cody’s ears perk up, as Cody’s family ranch lies in the same western plain. Cody asked for a more specific area in Kansas and Spanky said Great Bend, Kansas, just 140 miles west of my in-laws ranch.
During the brief drive to Economy, Cody revealed that he, too, was from central Kansas and his family is still there today. More specifically, his grandmother and uncle still reside in Sterling, not far from Great Bend. As irony would have it, Spanky attended college in Sterling, population 2,300. A Kansas town just a bit bigger than our beloved Hagerstown.
The mechanic that Spanky was trying to find in Economy was nowhere to be found; his truck wouldn’t be repaired that night. He asked Cody for a ride back to his rig, still parked at 1 and 35. Cody gave him one of our Sankey Angus business cards and asked if he could bring him dinner (a double cheeseburger from a local joint – only the best for our guests!); Spanky obliged. But when he looked at the business card, Spanky asked, “Sankey. You don’t know a Larry Sankey, do you?”
Larry Sankey is Cody’s paternal grandfather.
As absolute fate would have it, while in college, Spanky (I have no idea of this man’s birth name, so we’re assuming it is, in fact, Spanky) went to the small-town bank on business and asked a teller (Cody’s grandmother) if she knew of any places where a college kid could live. She thought they might have a place on the ranch he could rent, and the rest is history. Spanky moved into Larry and Melva’s rental and Larry nearly killed him (his words, not mine) the day Spanky decided to trim the shrubs without asking.
Thirty-five years later, Spanky breaks down ¼ mile from Larry’s grandson’s Angus operation in Indiana. Small world, indeed.
Our son woke at 4:00 the next morning, and when he was done eating, we loaded the truck and headed west for Christmas in Kansas. Spanky’s truck was still parked at 1 and 35. We hoped he was sleeping soundly, and would make it back west in time for Christmas. While in Kansas, we told grandma Melva about the trucker and she didn’t really remember him, but she did remember a guy who Larry almost killed because he trimmed the shrubs at the ranch house. Some men are just particular about their landscape, I guess.
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