After 52 years, I must confess.
In 1960, I was driving a log truck from the hills east of Chelatchie down Cedar Creek Road to the Columbia River dike, just north of Woodland. There, the logs were dumped into the river and became part of a log raft to be towed to a saw mill.
There was a county deputy patrolling the road almost every day, watching the log trucks. If we saw him, we would warn any drivers we met by putting a hand up against the windshield with two fingers pointed down.
One day my load consisted of two 2-foot fir logs and one 8-foot spruce laying between them. The spruce was mostly hollow. When the deputy saw the load he pulled me over. I got out, went back and asked why?
“You’re overweight,” he said.
There was a trucking company in Woodland that had a set of truck scales, but you had to pay to use them. If the truck was overweight, the driver had to pay. If it was not overweight, the deputy had to pay. I was not overweight!
The deputy could not figure out how a load of logs that big would not be overweight. I never told him that the big spruce was hollow.
I had a bad attitude back then. I thought playing that trick on him would be fun. And, he kind of had it coming for pestering us so much.
I had forgotten about how, when I was a little boy, Dad had explained to me how important it was to treat other people they way you would like them to treat you — The Golden Rule.
I repent. I’m sorry.
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