[EMAIL PROTECTED] wrote:
> When I worked for Hearst Magazine Division in the early eighties, I was 
> assiged to photograph a tow truck that had won a Motor Magazine contest for 
> custom tow trucks. Picking this vehicle was sort of a gag on the prt of the 
> editors. The truck was kind of obscene. It was decorated with hundreds of 
> lights and geegaws, and sported a bevy of horns. Iit belonged to a guy who 
> lived in the mountains in West Virgina. I went out there to shoot the truck 
> on the last day of a thirteen day road trip that had taken me across the 
> country and back. I flew into West Virgina, rented a car and drove up some 
> eighty miles of winding mountain roads. The last twenty miles or so were dirt 
> roads. When I arrived at the house, the truck owner and his wife greeted me 
> like I was long lost kin. I spent most of the day with them. Great folks. We 
> drank some moonshine, they slaughtered one of the chickens that roamed thier 
> yard, and the Mrs. baked som biscuits. I filed up on the best fried chicken I 
> ever
 had, sho
> t the truck and headed back to New York. I have to see if I can find some 
> pics of that truck. I probably have them packed away in a box somewhere. 
> Anyway, that's my West Virginia story.

Hell, I might be related to those folks.  If not, my heritage surely 
comes down the same turnpike. :-)

-- 
Thanks,
DougF (KG4LMZ)

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