Slim's my hero. I'll never complain about my time spent out in the gate shack waving traffic through ever again.
I've been pretty lucky as far as injuries. Grew up on a farm, so I tangled with barbed wire a lot. Been kicked or clawed by just about every animal out there. Nothing real bad. I guess my worst one I got on my way to trucking school. The greyhound driver got pulled over for speeding and refused to take the ticket. They hauled him in to traffic court right then and there, leaving the entire busload of people sitting on the side of the highway. I went to step over the guardrail to have a smoke with the group, and cut my shin down to the bone. Had fat and everything hanging out. Paramedics tried to take me to the hospital, but I insisted on just some big bandaids and changed my bloody sock and shoes before crawling back on the bus to berate myself for being so clumsy.
By the time I got done training eight weeks later, that darn thing still hadn't completely healed.
My favorite scar is the one on my hand. I had picked up an injured great horned owl from the vet clinic and brought it back to our rehab barn. I had the feet and was admiring them while cleaning the wound on his wing. That's when he reached up and bit through a welding glove and the meat of the fleshy part below the thumb of my hand. Bless his heart, he died a couple days later.
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