I made my exit from the corporate world in 1978, becoming an independent geologist at the age of thirty-two. My first wife Gail had left me with an old Triumph Tr4 and little else. Having saved almost nothing during the two years following the divorce, I began life as an independent with little money.
I left Texas Oil & Gas with only the money in my wallet and a thousand dollars borrowed from my new girlfriend Carol. Carol was a lease broker and as excited about the oil business as I was. When I finally sold a prospect, she drove me in her Ford Pinto to Garfield County to see the well.
Carol was a gorgeous woman with blonde hair, smoky blue eyes and a brain that rivaled her body. During the late seventies, women had abandoned their bras, and often their inhibitions. The day we went to Garfield County to see the well, she wore only a pair of cutoff blue jeans, flip-flops and a little nothing of a white blouse, sans bra.
We bought Coors tall boys when we stopped to fill the Pinto with gas and continued drinking throughout the day. After finally leaving the location, we ended up at a country and Western bar in Enid. This is when the trouble began.
Carol had come hither eyes and knew how to use them. Not long after bellying up to the dark and smoky bar, the cowboys started hitting on her. She loved it as I was eating my heart out.
“What’s your hurry?” she asked when I mentioned we should be getting back to town.
“Who are you, anyway?” a big cowboy asked after poking me in the shoulder.
“I’m not her brother,” I said, hoping he would get the message.
He didn’t, and neither did Carol. We ended up staying at the bar until it closed. She had a penchant for wrapping men around her finger and we somehow made it out of the bar without getting into a fight.
Our relationship lasted about a year. I was gaga over her and I think she liked me (I’m still not real sure) but our personalities were as volatile as fire and gasoline. We finally parted ways, but not until after many similar incidents to the one in the Enid bar.
Fiction South
I left Texas Oil & Gas with only the money in my wallet and a thousand dollars borrowed from my new girlfriend Carol. Carol was a lease broker and as excited about the oil business as I was. When I finally sold a prospect, she drove me in her Ford Pinto to Garfield County to see the well.
Carol was a gorgeous woman with blonde hair, smoky blue eyes and a brain that rivaled her body. During the late seventies, women had abandoned their bras, and often their inhibitions. The day we went to Garfield County to see the well, she wore only a pair of cutoff blue jeans, flip-flops and a little nothing of a white blouse, sans bra.
We bought Coors tall boys when we stopped to fill the Pinto with gas and continued drinking throughout the day. After finally leaving the location, we ended up at a country and Western bar in Enid. This is when the trouble began.
Carol had come hither eyes and knew how to use them. Not long after bellying up to the dark and smoky bar, the cowboys started hitting on her. She loved it as I was eating my heart out.
“What’s your hurry?” she asked when I mentioned we should be getting back to town.
“Who are you, anyway?” a big cowboy asked after poking me in the shoulder.
“I’m not her brother,” I said, hoping he would get the message.
He didn’t, and neither did Carol. We ended up staying at the bar until it closed. She had a penchant for wrapping men around her finger and we somehow made it out of the bar without getting into a fight.
Our relationship lasted about a year. I was gaga over her and I think she liked me (I’m still not real sure) but our personalities were as volatile as fire and gasoline. We finally parted ways, but not until after many similar incidents to the one in the Enid bar.
Fiction South
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