I came home Monday night to see a junk car parked by the shop. I figured the owner of the dented Geo Prizm was in the barn choosing a lamb to butcher for a Mexican holiday. Turns out Bob traded a goat for the car. A elderly woman wanted to buy our spotted Nubian doe, Hillary. Bob made her a deal and took her old car instead. It still runs, although barely.
Bob says he's going to keep trading up and eventually end up with a new house. (We have two more goats, by the way, if you have something to trade.)
We get more hillbilly every day.
