celebration of the wheel

mysteryscribe

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Celebration of the Wheel
by MysteryWriter
?
If I had been kicking around the summer art and festival scene longer, I never would have booked the 'Celebration of the Wheel' Festival. I most likely wouldn't have if I hadn't been in a hurry to fill my summer event schedule either. I just didn't read the description, it was close enough and fell on a July weekend that had no other shows or festivals so I booked it. I put it on the calendar then forgot all about it.
The next time I read the booking was when I parked my vintage camping trailer on a space at the country fair ground in Arborville, NC Arborville's claim to fame was a dirt race track that had started some kind of racing. Not being a race fan of any kind I hadn't known even that about the town. That race track and its history accounted for the 'Celebration of the Wheel Festival.'
The festival was to be inside the small town. The town, no more than a mile away from the fair grounds, had blocked off streets throughout the downtown for us. The Festival's first day, I discovered on a more detailed reading of the internet brochure, was to culminate with a motorcycle race at the aforementioned racetrack. I hadn't prviously bothered to read past the downtown show part. The motorcycle race did explain all the tents pitched over the fairground. It also explained the motorcycles parked helter skelter in front of the tents. There were at least a hundred just in the fairground area.
I knew for a fact that there was also a state park within ten miles of Arborville. I expected the larger motorhomes had opted for the more secure concrete pads of the state park. My little camper would most likely sit on the soft earth just fine. It had been designed for camping in the days before concrete pads were everywhere. Besides if it got stuck, the totally restored 1950 Willys Jeep could easily tow it out.
Both the camper and the Jeep had been restored by a close friend. She, yes a woman, had decided to move on to a more fun project, so I bought the pair from her cheap enough. The Jeep had been a totally factory fresh restore, but the camper had a lot of Lois in it. In other words it had a kind of feminine feel without being feminine. I know that is hard to understand but it manifested itself in things like a full length mirror. Who ever heard of a full length mirror in a camper.

If you want to finish it you will have to go here http://www.2hot2cool.com/11/deacon1/ nothing to buy or anything there just isnt enough room for it here
 
Maybe they were having the same trouble I had in opening it.... it wouldn't let me. But as you've sent it to me and I have read it I thought it was very interesting. Is this a true story, about you? I don't know enough about you to be able to tell. Or made up? Either way I read the whole thing and so it must have been good because I get bored easily. Especially with reading.
You know what's funny. My husband is a great artist and one time he was recruited by a friend to do bodypaint for the Rolling Rock Town Fair in PA. They got paid in tips. So anyhow half the day went by with a bunch of boring peace signs and whatnot on a bunch of girls cheeks or a dragon on a bicep, stuff like that.
Til this one girl walks up and wants him to paint her um,,, can I say boobs here? LOL so he did and she walked around like that. Ten minutes later there was another, and another and another... It was crazy. You made me think of that with your story. I sat and watched my husband inadvertantly grope a bunch of girls all day! Eh, Whatever.
I think your story was a good one, although I did think it ended very abruptly. That's not so much a bad thing but I wasn't expecting that to be it. :)
 
yes my wife calls my ending axeblow endings.... It isn't about me more a little about festivals I have done and how they are always different. I like that you and your husband are in the arts. Artist are fun people in general a little nuts but fun.

The story appealed to a few of my a.d.d. friends. One of them gave me my my very favorite comment about my writing. "It's like sitting at the kitchen table watching a favorite uncle drink liquor and tell stories." That was the best compliment I ever had.
 

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