A
new name for a new truck
by
Robert LaFrance
My friend Flug, who is adept at
coining new words, came up with another one yesterday afternoon. When I arrived
there (not even panting) from my twice-daily 15-km run, he was about to ‘chow
down’ on a huge sausage type bun. A can of what was obviously ice-cold lemonade
sat at his elbow in case of emergency.
“Whatcha got there, Flug?” I said,
because I wanted to know what he had there.
“It’s a bunana,” he said, and showed
me the rather disgusting innards of that sandwich. “A banana in a bun. I was
thinking this morning that a sandwich made from bananas would be just the
thing. I was thinking of putting some ketchup on it too, and maybe some feta
cheese.”
Supressing my gag reflex, I said:
“Gotta keep jogging.” It is all right to coin new words (called neologisms) and
it is all right to come up with new recipes for dishes that include sandwiches,
but really.
I called the police.
*****************************
Speaking of new words – and when am
I not? – this morning I was reading an autobiography of Max Ferguson, who
hosted a humorous radio show for decades, and I came across this rather
interesting new word as well as a new phrase. I am sure that neither had
previously been heard on the strait-laced CBC.
Max often played a character named
Rawhide, who had been known to make fun of the Queen, the prime minister of the
day (Lester Pearson, John Diefenbaker, Pierre Trudeau et al), but on this day
Rawhide was trying to be serious. Reading the script, he was listing all the
people who had worked on the show.
He ended: “…and thank you to our
national radio network, The Canadian Broadcorping Castration!”
I’m sure that all over Canada jaws
were dropping and making big noises as they hit the floors, whether the floors
be hardwood, concrete, or carpet.
Max Ferguson, whom I remember
listening to when I was in my twenties, did wonderful impressions. He and his
radio pal Allan McPhee could imitate just about anyone. One day he was using
the voice of a cabinet minister (can’t remember which one) who had gotten into
trouble for consorting with a hooker, and we ain’t talking about fishing here.
That cabinet minister called up CBC
to complain that Ferguson had gotten it all wrong. He hadn’t met the young lady
in a hotel room, it was in the park, behind some azaleas. Max apologized the
next day. He promised to do better research in the future, but he did it in the
voice of Queen Elizabeth.
*********************************
Still on the subject of new words, I
feel that some words we use every week need to be replaced by something that
makes sense. I think we all use – at least occasionally – the word ‘half-ton’
or ‘pickup’ when referring to trucks that are smaller than tractor-trailers, but
let’s look at that.
I used to own a half-ton, a 1974 GMC
that I bought from Jim Dixon who gave me an official 30-30 warranty (30 minutes
or 30 miles) on it. That was a real half-ton, so called because it would hold a
half ton of gravel, wood, etc. Now look around at the trucks that guys (almost
always guys) drive today. Holy moly!
Some of those trucks are only
slightly less heavy duty than the tractor-trailers we see zooming down the TCM
– and quite often through Perth, God help the unlucky pedestrian who steps out
in front of one of those! The somewhat smaller trucks I’m talking about are
sure not half-tons, and that’s what I am talking about. Who has an idea on a
new name for these behemoths?
Someone suggested Baby Macks,
referring to the Mack Trucks going up and down the highway and carrying freight
to who knows where, but I imagine the Mack Truck people would frown at that. I
don’t like 300-pound executives frowning at me. So I guess we’ll have to keep
looking for a new, more appropriate name. Wait! Flug, who has been sipping on
lemonade while watching roller derby on my TV, is gesturing that he wants to
weigh in on this matter.
“Bob, why can’t we just continue to
call them half-tons? You remember the reason they were named that originally
was because they would hold half a ton of stuff. Well, guess what? Those huge
trucks they have today won’t even hold that much because the box is so short.
Besides, the ‘guys’ won’t haul anything because it might scratch the paint. Or
we could call them ‘quarter-tons’.”
“Or hundredweights,” I suggested, as
we opened another cold lemonade. One has to be neighbourly.
-end-
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