Shakin' a leg with Mr. Johnson

I watched the old truck lazily chug into the driveway with a dust cloud trailing behind. It was an old Burgundy Chevy with a little rust starting to sprawl accross the body. It looked salt bitten; no doubt the truck had seen many a Michigan winter... But it's summer now and as he turned off the ignition, the hot engine ticked as many times as the miles it had driven.

At the first glance, I could see that the bed of the truck was filled with what appeared to be yard sale purchases stuffed awkwardly among bales of straw. I could see a small table and a dog igloo among other things thrown haphazardly on top.

I tried not to stare at the gentleman that stepped out, but I couldn't help but notice the tall, slow moving figure that approached the garage. I said hello and went about my business folding the clothes that I was peddling in my garage sale. He wandered around the tables, finally pausing and picking up an antique meat grinder. He turned it over in his calloused dark hands.

I noticed that he was wearing faded bib-overalls with a flannel button up shirt (which seemed much too warm to be wearing on such a hot day) and a white cowboy hat with a royal blue band and a rather large matching Yankee Doodle feather stuffed in the side. He had black hair that was peppered with gray and a thick mustache.

I had been passing the time listening to a radio special featuring Delta Blues artists. When a tune by Robert Johnson came on, the kindly fellow looked up from the grinder in his hands and spoke up. The twang of a lingering southern accent started to peak out right away.

He said "Y'all don't have any tools here, but you sure have it right with the tunes you playin'. Makes me want to shake a leg!" With that he bent part way over and began to jokingly wiggle a knee. I said "Thanks, I'm a real music person!" He said "That's the way to be, I like you already! I want to see you shake a leg!"

With that, I shook my knee and laughed.

He said "Even though I didn't find nothin', your sale is my favorite of the day." And then he started to shuffle back to his old tired truck that was still ticking in the heat.

I cupped my hands around my mouth and yelled "Don't ever stop shaking a leg!" He stopped in his tracks and danced the jig right there in the drive way and then slid in behind the wheel and drove off.