Where's Me Kilt wended his weary way homeward last Saturday, after reading me the gravel tickets: Total: $115.45; Volume: 8.07 tons divided into five loads, one a day from Tuesday, until Friday, when he did two.
Heading out, he quipped, "I was a ROCK star this week, and I came through in the clutch."
Indeed, he DID pretty well master the clutch on one unreliable old truck with gas flow issues, no matter what antics we mere drivers got up to in order to remedy the problem. Top mechanics in two states have scratched their collective heads and muttered, "I can't find a thing."
Neither cat has uttered a thing even close to as witty.