Knoxville, Tennessee, United States
I had made another friend while plying my trade as “Railroad Detective” in Scranton. His name was Jim McFee. Don’t ever call him Jimmy-John or Jim-Bob; you may have a fight on your hands.
I learned the hard way.
Jim was a good old boy from Tennessee. When I say “good old boy” I don’t mean it in a pejorative manner. I mean he was just a good guy.
Except for his accent. When we first met I could not understand a word he said. I thought Bogdan Yelcovich had a bad accent – – – you should have heard Jim’s. At first I could not figure out if he was from a foreign country or if he had a speech impediment.
It was neither – – – he was from Tennessee.
But once I got to understand him I found out that he was quite an interesting fellow.
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