There is a nice lady in our church who professes to be 88 years old and has given up driving, so my darling wife gathered some friends and they take turns going after her on Sunday mornings and taking her home when the service is over.
But Sunday, when it was Diane's turn, she had overbooked herself. She was trying to figure out how ot get everyint done, so I stepped up. I volunteered to pick her up. On the way to the church, sshe mentioned having a sore on one toeand since she is diabetic she is having to be very careful lest it get infected.
That's when I remembered about Big John. Now when I talk about Big John, I am not telling tall tales. But Big John fits the bill. I don't want to disrespect him, either. If anyone in this world loves to eat, it's Big John. You could render him down for the lard and have enough to grease up a fleet of Yellow Cabs.
Anyway, I had just bought a Jeep Commando. I had been trying to buy the thing for a long time, and was successful that very day. When John got to our house, the first thing he wanted to do was drive that Commando.  I told him the gas hand didn't work, there wasn't any insurance on it, and it just wasn't a smart idea. John said he just wanted to drive it 'around the block'.
Down here on Route 4 Piedmont, around the block is about eight miles. Maybe six. But a long way.
We got almost home, if you consider a mile and a half almost, then that Commando chocked and died. A mile and a half. Uphill. Every step uphill. John wanted to know if I was going for gas, and I replied that I certainly was, and I was scared to walk alone on this bright sunshiney afternoon so he had better walk with me. He got the hint. We walked home, grabbed a can of fuel and a funnel, and headed back to the Jeep.
a few weeks later, John was on the phone. He said he had an appointment at the hospital in just a few days to have a toe removed.
'When we were walking home from that Jeep, I was wearing a pair of birkenstocks, without socks, and I blistered a toe. I didn't know it and it got infected. They are going to have to take it off.
How I get these ideas I will never know, but I told John, immediately, his problems were over. I had the perfect solution.
'Yawl come down Saturday for steaks, and bring all of your insurance information and stuff you would carry to the hospital,' I told him. Only John is the nosey type and he wanted to know more.
'When I was 14 yeaers old, my uncle Clarence gave me a1916 model Colt .45 revolver. I don't get to shoot it much but it shoots a lead bullet the size of your finger. You don't have any feeling down there in your feet, anyway, so when we get out beside the truck I will just shoot off that toe, You won't feel a thing. My homeowners will pay for the accident, you will be rid of that infected toe, and I will get to tell eveyone i shot you and got away with it.
He wouldn't do it. He wouldn't even come to eat until his toe had been removed by a licensed doctor. It's hard to please some people.
By the time we arrived at the church, the lady informed me if her toe got infected, she, too, would want a doctor to snatch that thing off.
Nobody will let me shoot them.