n a new location, Mrs. Rotten and yours truly have found Montana's car crowd to be quite welcoming. In a very short time, we've made some good friends. That began with talking to one stranger at a car show. Once I'd confessed to being new here from California, he encouraged me to drop in on a group of old car guys that meet for coffee six days a week. "You just be you, and go introduce yourself to the guys at the big table," he said.
It took a few days to get to it, but when I walked in early that morning, the joint was empty — except for the obvious car guys at the big table where I went ahead and took a seat. To my right sat Larry Parkison. After a while or two, Parkison, looking right at me, addressed the group to say, "He doesn't know what new guys have to do when they join the group." He then went on to say, "New guys pick up the tab."
On that note, I surveyed the table. Seeing only coffee, I figured I could afford my initiation. Doing my best to be discrete, I approached our waitress, off to the side. "I'd like to pick up the tab," I told 'er. "Oh, they got you," she said with a chuckle. "They don't pay for their coffee."
Not long after our first meeting, the prankster, Parkison, offered to share a special place — the place where he'd grown up. Although many old cars and parts are for sale, it's not exactly a wrecking yard. Hidden well among acres of tall, tall trees is the Parkison family ranch. With a 20/20 memory, Parkison knows the history of just about every old vehicle on the grounds. He parked many of them here himself as a youngster years ago.
