gone story telling

The BEE Ranch is my secret weapon. It helps me focus.I enjoy twisting a tale of the many stories that string themselves together in the dust and mud of my footsteps. In Texas there are more than a few larger than life characters big enough to fill a state bigger than most countries. One of those fellows crossed my path along the way to here, and we became friends and I have had the privilege of being his wingman on many interesting trips down this road.  I watched as Tarp Roller surfed a point break with double overhead barrels stretching into the distance on the south Pacific coast of Mexico in the mid seventies. He surfed, I took a few photos.   There were no tourists on the beach back then, just a few hungry goats. When the waves petered out Tarp Roller went fishing with the locals in a small fishing boat far enough out to sea that I could just barely make out the boat with binoculars. I stayed back in the shade of the palm trees and read a book. Late in the afternoon the boat came back loaded down within inches of sinking. Tarp Roller had landed a 350 pound Tuna with a hand line along with too many dorado’s to count. His hands were bloody, but his smile was big. These are the kind of moments that define Tarp Roller. Tarp Roller got his name playing football; he had the sticky fingers. He played wide receiver for the Mavericks, and if the ball even looked like it touched his hands he was gone to the house! The tarp Roller was the person in charge of the group rolling out the tarp to protect the football field in case it rained.  Tarp Roller did not need a group, he did the job of rolling out the tarp by himself, and did it fast. Tarp Roller is 6 foot 6 inches tall, with arms that can reach into tomorrow morning to grab a pass, and catch it with hands the size of frying pans. His legs are skinny, but strong like drilling  pipe. He ran over opponents or around them either way was fine with him. When football season ended Tarp Roller went to the beach. He could catch a wave with one stroke from his mighty hand and wave at the girls on the beach with the other.  Years later I had gone to meet Tarp Roller on a Caribbean Island because I thought it would be a nice change of pace. I watched one night in a little thatched hut in the jungle on the island as Tarp Roller gambled until he was down to his last beer and his last dollar. Tarp Roller is a risk taker he lives for excitement. He could feel lady luck whenever she was around. That night she walked in and sat down beside him. Tarp Roller was out of money; all he had left was his artificial eye. He popped out the eye cupped it in his giant hand, looked around the crowded room and slapped his hand down on the big pile of cash on the table. When he pulled back his hand and the eye stared up at the crowd the room went silent, you could hear a bird breathe. The cards were laid on the table and when the shouting settled to a roar, the pot belonged to Tarp Roller. Lady luck had smiled. Tarp Roller could pay off his sailboat that he lived on in the harbor, he wasn’t set but he had a fresh start.