Who we got here, now? Y’all come on to the stables and hear ya a story. Now, my cousin, Cleavus Ray used to come to the plantation to visit before he got himself married. He brung his ol’ pick-up truck, don’t ya know. Lord, he loved that broken down, rusted, primer-painted heap of scrap metal.  You could hear him a comin’ up the road three miles a way a clankin’ and a grindin’. Well, he comes to the plantation one day. I done heard him down the road and walked up to meet him. I was half up the driveway and the noise done stopped. Then I saw his truck but it weren’t makin’ no racket but it was a movin’. The truck done broke down and ol’ Cleavus Ray was a pushin’ the thing. Huffin’ and a puffin’ he gets it in the driveway and he gots a single tear a rollin’ down his cheek. “Bertha done passed,” he says. We buried her out back. Feel free to pay your respects.