Vermontpelier

My daily commute takes me down a residential street where is parked a hillbilly truck christened "The Vermonster." This truck has got it all: 18 inch lift, mismatched panel colors, perma-dirt sprayed all over, and, of course, a Confederate battle flag hanging in the rear window.

Come to think of it, I'm not sure if The Vermonster actually has a Vermont license plate. (I've never actually slowed down to look as I'm usually cooking at about 45 down a 25 zone because I don't want to miss the light at the intersection, otherwise I have to wait a full 87 seconds for the next green.) This truck very well could be registered in a state that was a hotbed of Southern pride. Still, though, it is very possible that the owner of this beast comes from a long line of red, white, and blue-blooded Green Mountaineers, possible a great-great-great-...-great grandson of, of, uh, well, you know some famous person from Vermont that just so happens to have loyalties and political ideals just a couple thousand miles too far north.

Vermont very well could have been a part of the good 'ol C. S. of A. During the Civil War a small group of Rebel cavalry invaded Vermont from Canada, robbed a bank, burned down a shed, peed on the ashes, kicked a dog, tripped over and knocked down a fence post, and stormed back to the safe havens of Quebec (or whatever is above the state's northern boundary, I'm too lazy to look it up.) This act of merciless, destructive warfare nearly brought the entire state of Vermont to its knees. The governor is reported to have said, "Please, we beg of you! We'll do whatever you want. We'll join your country. Whatever you please do don't hurt us but fix that fence post you busted while you're at it."

Believe it or don't, I have never actually been to Vermont, even though it's only a 90 minute drive away. My wife has, though. The one time she went, she came back with three or four large bags of plump mountain blueberries. I said, "How hospitable. You drive in, add to the air pollution, pay sales tax, and as a token of appreciation they give you gallons of berries." So, I thought, Hey, if I drive up to Vermont maybe I'll come away with four large barrels of kerosene, or a trunk full of maple syrup. More likely, though, I just get a flat tire.

I suppose if I'm ever up for a Monster Truck rally -- One Night Only! The Vermonster versus The Boston Cream Pie -- I'll make my way up there.