10/21/2025
In The Arms of An Oilman…
We turned off the blacktop road with a jostle and a bump. A chalk white gravel road twisted up and over the hills and through prairies dotted with cactus and mesquite trees.
On the horizon I could see bright stadium like lights blazing intensely as we approached. The sound of machinery grew louder and louder with grinding and clanging sounds that assaulted the night as the smell of petroleum filled the air.
Large muscular men covered in muck and mud slung pipes from a cage and placed them in a clamp that looked like it could easily take an arm or leg off in an instant, if not for the expert movements of its handlers.
I had been bundled up to keep the teeth of the cold from biting but as we pulled to the edge of the drilling pad the door swung open and I was met with a stinging cold wind.
I remember looking down and seeing small discarded cotton like bags that had contained shale, little bits of dark clay like material that was now spilled out around them. They had been tested for oil and often then cast aside.
The hand rails were cold as I reached up to them. Paint flaked off of them as I mounted the metal steps that were perforated with small holes that had teeth. This was to help give traction to the muddy boots of the roughnecks who regularly climbed up and down them going to their work trucks for a smoke break.
Tink, tink, tink was the sound the steps made as a vibration could be felt throughout the whole derrick as if it were an angry restless beast.
There was a bar that twisted up and down that served as the latch to a thick metal door on what they called the dog house. A small heater emitted heat to warm this space though it was constantly battling with the deck door that was left ajar so that commands could be shouted.
There was a chaotic but almost symphonic like atmosphere about it all.
Hard hats lined the wall with names written in sharpie on the backs. The deck had a grated floor so that excess materials spilled would flow through into the abyss below.
Steam could be seen coming off the rough necks as one would begin his ascent to the crows nest to relieve a worker who would soon slide down the ladder with his boots pressing against the sides to slow him.
Inside the dog house a metal box contained a paper disk that graphed out the depth and location of the drill bit. The operator would make adjustments to start the directional drilling, causing pipes to bend toward a zone where there was believed to be a pool of oil.
My father would stand nearby, his chin just above the shoulder of the operator, waiting to see if his investment had been a success.
Then suddenly there was a yell, “Everybody Out!” The sounds of heavy boots could be heard clanging across the deck as the partially open door was now swung wide with a bang against the side of the dog house.
One roughneck fell toward the small heater as he turned a k**b to extinguish it. I sat watching in a corner as I could see a look of fear in my father’s eyes as he reached out to me continuously blocked by another rough neck pushing through the deck door.
The smell of gas permeated the air. They had hit a pocket and the force had pushed out the packing mud, a grayish combination of viscous clay and peanut husks that was fine tuned to a weight that would normally hold back pressure.
Two oily hands reached through the melee of sweat, stink and bodies rushing off the rig to safety. One of the roughnecks had seen me and grabbed me on his way down the steps.
My father soon followed as we looked back seeing one lone roughneck below the rigs deck turning a large wheel that connected to a valve used to shut in the well in cases such as this.
Rushing to the edge of the pad with all hands accounted for we watched anxiously as the chemical smells and gas cleared the air.
If anyone had started a truck or caused a spark of any kind the result could have been an explosion seen from two counties away. As for us, we would have been vaporized - instantly.
After the all clear was given, my dad picked me up, wiping small blotches of oil from my cheeks.
He thanked the derrick worker and shook his hand as he held me in his other.
On the way home, just before nodding off to sleep, I heard him say…
“Let’s not tell your mother about this.”
