The Chicken Truck

Fluffer-nutter Day 3!

I have interrupted the Rain’s regularly scheduled deep thoughts to bring you a week of Blogging-Fluffer-nutter. If you were hoping for something with a little more depth, I highly recommend Homegrown Mom’s post When God Changes your Heart.

But if you need a little more funny in your day… Click for Ode to Sticky Notes: Day 1 and An Ally McBeal Tuesday: Day 2 or just read on!

This is a re-post from 2007 but it is by far, my favorite funny-fluffy-blog post.

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Get your money for nothin, and your chicks for free…
I want my [San-i-ty]…Dire Straits

 

At this very moment I am stuck on a bridge waiting for an accident to clear. Just me, twenty other cars, and 2,000 chickens stuffed into an open-air poultry transport semi less than four feet from my open car window.

Only in Georgia.

The first few feathers that floated drearily across the highway should have been enough to catch my attention. Or perhaps the pungent perfume of the pernicious poultry parade might have alerted my senses to something seditious surrounding me. But alas, I remained oblivious to the carnal creatures clucking and clawing next to me.

So with everyone else, I shut down my engine to wait out the accident scene until a lone feather floating floppily in the wind ferociously fought to capture my attention and I found myself lock-eyed with a rogue rooster.

I had the ingenious foresight to leave my sunroof open before shutting down my vehicle, and now Rooster Renegade and his 2,000 compatriots locked their beady eyes on target for a show-down. Visions of Chicken Run danced through my mind as I kept one eye on my open roof and the other on Chicken Little staring at me from between the gilded cages. I was thankful to see that apparently the GA passenger-restraint system (aka seatbelts) apparently applied to my poultry pals too…or so I thought.

You can imagine my horror when I saw Rooster Renegade’s buddy Foghorn Leghorn poke his beak out, then nudge his neck, and squirm his sides free from the cage and firmly plant himself on the edge of the truck less than two feet from my window. His sinister stare suggested that he might be contemplating making a break for it. Turn on my engine and I might risk startling Foghorn into action with my car becoming the getaway vehicle and I the accomplice to a chick-nap. If his Hen party followed it could become a full-fledged poultr-iny as Henny, Flutter, Flapper, and Foghorn stormed my Honda for a quick getaway.

How did I get here… Stuck in Georgia next to a chicken truck!?!

I was happy in D.C. where things were not so … so…. Organic! D.C. had technology, and electricity, and running water. There were young professionals in D.C. Cowboy boots were a novelty, not a necessity there. And there were no chicken trucks in D.C.! I can understand a rogue chicken or three if on mission to Guatemala, heck I survived a chicken bus as one frequently had the pleasure of sharing their daily commute with Henny and Foghorn. But I am not on mission… I am on 285 and I20 in Atlanta fergawdsake, not a third-world country!

Such is my life in Georgia where Chicken Trucks are a normality and the hustle-bustle of the Corporate Kingdom of Tysons Tech Corridor is but a fleeting memory for me. Culture-shock would be putting it mildly…

• The best steak in five counties is found at the Flying-J, exit 138, where you can frequently find me & my buddies Keisha and Earl. Oh, they do have wi-fi there.
• Rush hour in Greensboro consists of how fast you can escape work to avoid the logging truck brigade that diligently sticks to their 8 to 5 work day.
• Down here you are asked what county you live in, not what city. The first time someone asked me that, I thought they said “country” so I said “America of course!” I heard them mutter Yankee as they walked away.
• My women’s small group leader was late one night to group because she wanted to see the winning heifer at the county fair. She is now a dear friend but never did explain what a heifer was.
• The most popular joint in town one year ago was Zac’s place. It was a double-wide. Zac Brown Band’s signature song is called “Chicken Fried.”
• My neighbor Kelly plays guitar at church with me. She wears sandals and her toes hang over the edge. The band thinks it’s trendy.

But Greensboro, GA has also brought a season of incredible blessing for me. I have experienced…

• Mentors who have invested in my growth and have held my hand through the transitional rough spots – like chicken truck run-ins.
• A loving and connected community of Christian ladies who love turning every young woman under forty into their daughter and will give the shirt off their backs to make you feel welcome and cared for.
• Churches that find creative ways to co-operate in unity and local companies that give back to people, not just causes.
• A community that knows you by name and loves you by heart, where you cannot get lost in the crowd and become a number, because the town is too small!

But back at the chicken truck…

Foghorn Leghorn eventually settled back into his cage, leaving his solitary perch and reuniting with the Hen party. He seemed more content in the wait and no longer eyed an opportunity to escape.

As the clucking continued to die down and the restless rustling and frantic-feather flapping diminished, I began wondering what would happen if I stepped off the perch and stopped fussing and fretting about what was coming next on my journey. What would happen if I just embraced all that Georgia has to offer me in this season?

You’re not alone…Together we stand… I’ll be by your side, you know I’ll take your hand… When it gets cold…And it feels like the end… There’s no place to go…You know I won’t give in…No I won’t give in…Keep holding on… ‘Cause you know we’ll make it through, we’ll make it through… Just stay strong (Avril Lavigne: Keep Holding On)