First Person on a Durt Bag

In the dim recesses of time before the creative spark as struck in Father Durt’s mind, a young lady named Tracy Harrell worked at his raft rental shop on the banks of the Rogue. Sometimes the only thing to be heard around there for hours on end was the hiss of air escaping from damaged inflatables. Some even say the gentle breezes that waft up and down our river are caused by this.

One fine morning the flint met the steel. A full-size Durt Bag sprang forth from Father Durt’s head! It left his mind utterly cleansed, as must happen to all of us on occasion. No one can ever again accuse him of having a Durty mind.

Anyway, all the employees jumped up from their raft patching jobs and gathered around the Durt Bag. (They knew it was a Durt Bag ’cause the name was on it in big white letters.) They ohh’d and ahhd and were very awed at what had happened. They felt it, they poked it and they lifted it and Tracy said, “it looks and feels like a great comfortable cushion. I wonder what it’s for?” By this time Father Durt had recovered a little from his trial by spark and he spoke for the first time.

“This,” he said, “is for floating down the river. Who wants to be first because I’ve got a headache?” (Afer all, this big thing came right out his head.) Something was wrong with all the big burly guys that worked there. An arm on one, a leg on another.

“All right, you turkeys!” Tracy said, “I’ll do it.” (Everyone knows a turkey is nothing but a big funny colored chicken, but Tracy is a much too well-mannered girl to stand around and call her boss and co-worker “big chickens.”) So she grabbed a paddle and a life jacket and down the river she went, having more fun than Saturday, all the way!

So, that’s how it happened folks. Tha’s how a little lady put all the adventurous men to shame and rode the Rogue River in the very first Durt Bag.

Oh, yes. Tracy still lives in Gold Hill and now works at the Gold Dust Cafe, right across the street from the DURT BAG Co. She will attest to the veracity of every word of this story if you go over and let her fix you something good to eat.

She has also joined the Volunteer Fire Department in case Father Durt’s next spark threatens to burn out his mind – or the whole town – or something.

W. Siukola

The First Durt Bag Riders
The First Durt Bag Riders