No one seemed to know how Dirty Dale got his name, and Dale wasn’t telling.
Gladys, who came in off the rigs to put her cooking talents to work in the cafe she purchased after years in the oil patch, had plenty of opportunity to watch the locals in action and she watched Dale a lot. She insisted his nickname came from his good-natured willingness to pursue every female in sight. It was a reasonable assumption. No matter how oblivious, uninterested or irritated the woman might be, Dale’s confidence was absolute as he slid into the seat next to her or leaned against her car. “Hey, darlin’,” he’d say. “I’m here to improve your life.” Lord knows he tried. (more…)