Where Have All The Cowboys Gone?

Seriously. I want to know where all the cowboys have gone? Well, let me delineate that a bit. By cowboys, I mean the good guys. You know, the people who actually try to rescue damsels in distress? Yes, me being said damsel. I'm a damsel. I was in distress. No knights, no cowboys, nothing. I guess it goes to show what kind of times we live in that on one of the busiest streets in my city, four hundred cars can pass me by (including one police car) with my hazard lights flashing (sort of), seeing me sitting alone...in my car...on the side of the road...just me and my dog. Yup. It took almost an hour before a police car finally pulled up behind me.

Which brings up another question. Since when do they let junior high school students wear a badge?!! Good lord! This very nice police officer who finally came to see if I was alive and well looked about as old as my middle child. Okay, okay. That is an exaggeration. He looked as old as my 15 year old. I'm not kidding. This guy looked like he had barely reached the legal age of consent. And, yes, for the other Wendy, he was definitely an example of Iowa Prime Beef. Just extraordinarily young looking. At any rate, apparently, cops now carry around these little yellow box things called 'jump packs', with which we tried (to no avail) to jump start my car. Since it did not start, I called the towing place back. Said towing place had told me 15 minutes before that it would cost me $45 for someone to come try to jump start it -- whether it worked or not, which would be separate from the tow bill. Right. The nice, young, corn-fed police officer who left his Pampers at home just last year, made the attempt for nothing (pun intended). Nada, zilch. Wouldn't even let me walk over to the Kum & Go across the way and buy him a soda or coffee or anything. He just collected his jump pack, his pliers, and waved at me and the dog and took off. I must say, however, that his gun belt or tool belt or whatever those things are called, did not do a thing for his figure. Made him look an extra foot wide and completely detracted an otherwise very fine butt. Oh yeah, there was a nice shitter on that critter, let me tell ya.

Anyway, so, what kind of world is this that no one cares to even ask through a window if a stranded woman is need of assistance? I can only imagine what it would have been like if I'd have had my youngest child with me. Personally, I'd rather go back a century or two. Cowboys riding the open range...helping women in trouble...hangings...ah! The good ole days!