A "Dick" is Born

Okay, wait, that sounds bad.  Allow me to explain…

Way back in 1999, during setup for the Best in the Smoky Mountains Rib Cook-Off in Sevierville, TN, the BourbonQ team had just arrived on the scene to continue their summer of dominance of the barbecue circuit.  This was the year that we entered six competitive cooking events, and won three of ‘em!  Not only that, but we swept 1st Place, 2nd Place, and People’s Choice Awards at the Hog Wild BBQ Jam in Fort Wayne, IN, so really we brought home 5 trophies from 6 contests.  Not a bad summer!

Anyway, as we pulled up to our designated tent spot in Sevierville, we found that one of the tent spikes was smack dab in the spot where our banner set needed to go.  Now, our banners ain’t no rinky-dink setup.  We’ve got a heavy-duty metal frame that towers 20 feet above the crowd (and our cooker!), so obviously it’s important to get it anchored down just right.  This rogue tent spike simply had to go.

I guess the planners of the event were expecting a goddamn hurricane to blow through…the spike was driven into the asphalt damn near down to the head!  Luckily, we don’t travel anywhere without our trusty BFH (Big Friggin’ Hammer), so Pappy promptly started wailing away on that tent spike.  After 10 solid minutes of swingin’, slammin’, and cursin’, Pappy took a much needed beer break.  Pappy’s elder son, known affectionately that summer as “Boy” (as in, “Hey ya, Boy, get to work…you’re burnin’ daylight!”) picked up where Pappy left off, swinging the sledge and hurling his own slew of obscenities at this three-foot spike that had quickly become the bane of our existence.  Utterly gassed, he took his own beer break several minutes later, the tent spike still smugly nestled in its original spot.

Enter Pappy’s younger son, at the time a 19-year-old beanpole also oddly known as “Boy”…Pappy’s always been a bit lazy on the nickname front.  “Boy #2”, at this point oblivious of the personal war being waged between Man & Inanimate Object, calmly walked up to the offending tent spike, grasped it in one hand, and pulled it right out of the asphalt like King friggin’ Arthur pulling the sword from the stone!  Pappy and “Boy #1”, both still doubled over from the exertion of their recent battles, looked up with exasperated expressions.  The only thing Pappy could think to say was “Dick!”  From that point forward, “Boy #2” had earned his own nickname…Dick.

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