there's a row of cottonwoods a few hundred yards away from the missouri river. there's also a lot for the truckers to stage up in and a depot for the ford motor company up the street. it's a stones throw from the shop i work in and everyday at lunch time i park the ironhead under the massive canopy of those old cottonwoods, lay out a blanket, call my old lady to tell her i love her and stare off into space.
this is the life.
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