About Me

I feel the wanderlust and the call of the open highway. Which is good, because I drive cars for a living. But I'm a writer, and someday hope to once again make my living using my writing skills.

Sunday, January 31, 2010


I was driving a truck for a company, picked up in Florida and set to deliver in Texas. It was a long and difficult drive, because the truck had a special "governor" device on it, and the moment your speed hit 70 or above, a piercing alarm would go off and not stop til you slowed down to below 65mph. Normally, I set the cruise control on cars I drive at 75mph and make good time.

I had been driving 14 hours and was about to stop for the night at a friend's house. Then I saw the blue and red lights flashing in my rear view mirror. What could it be, I wondered. Certainly not speeding.

The officer walked slowly and deliberately up to my window. I had my driver's license all ready to show him. But before the cop said a word, he got a call on the mike attached to his collar. He told me to stay put, he'd be right back. He went to his car and climbed in. I watched the clock on my dash, and 16 minutes passed. I was sweating bullets, wondering what information he was checking on about me or my background. I have a squeaky clean record.

He finally sauntered back up to the car window and said, "Could I ask you a couple of questions."

I gulped hard and said, "Absolutely, occifer, I mean, officer."

"I have a rodent problem. At first it was just mice, but now there's rats too, and lots of them. Don't know exactly what to do about it, I've bought every kind of over the counter pest control item, but nothing does the trick. My wife is ready for us to sell the house. What do you suggest?"

"Uh... buy a cat?"

"You trying to be a smart aleck?"

"No sir, no way. But I really don't have a clue what to do about a rodent problem."

"You don't know anything about mice and rats?"

"I know that I hate them, they scare the crap out of me. It's a childhood issue."

"Then why the hell are you in the Pest Control business?"

Only then did the fog of exhaustion lift, and I remembered that I was driving an Orkin Pest Control truck, with ORKIN printed all over it in big letters. I explained that I was just transporting the truck, at which point I had to pull out all my paperwork to prove it.

The next day when I delivered the truck, I related this story to the guys at Orkin. I said I could not believe a policeman would pull over a truck, lights flashing, just to ask pest control questions.
"Happens all the time," the manager told me.

Wow. Always good to know the boys in blue are on the job.

Saturday, January 23, 2010


I was passing through Tallahassee on my way to Texas yesterday. I stopped in at a Barber shop I used to go to, and the Barber was excited to see me.

"Come on in and sit down, I haven't seen you in quite a while!"

"You remember me?"

"Of course I do, and I remember just exactly how you like your hair cut. Sit back and make yourself comfortable."
I did so, and he draped the cape over me to keep the hair off my clothes. Then he grabbed his electric clippers and started at my neck, making a straight path over my head directly to my forehead. Cutting off all my hair down to the scalp.

"Hey! What are you doing?" I exclaimed.

"Don't you like a buzz cut? Or some folks call it a crew cut."

"No, no, neither one, whatever you call it, no!"

"Aren't you in the military?"


"Oh... wait a minute. You're that guy who drives cars, ain't ya?"

"Yes, that's me."

"Sorry, wrong haircut. Well, I guess we could stop now and call it a Reverse Mohawk." He threw his head back and laughed. I felt no desire to join him in his laughter. I sadly surveyed the bald strip, and told him to go ahead and finish up. So now, I have no hair til it grows back out.

After the haircut, I went down the block to the market. There was a rather odd older man standing out front, wearing ragged clothes. One of the many strange people I meet on a daily basis. "Well hello there," he said to me. "It's about time you got here."

I didn't question his familiarity. I'm used to it. I smiled, nodded, and said "Hello."

"I've been meaning to ask you, what do you think of our new President?" This was the second time in two weeks that someone asked me about the President.

I just shrugged and said "OK."

"Just OK, huh? I happen to think Mr. Lincoln is a fine man."


"That's right, Abraham Lincoln, our new President. I think he'll be a good one. Do you really think he'll reunite the country and make us whole again?"

"I hope so. I'll say a prayer."

And the man began to bray with laughter, slapped me on the back, and said "You just said a mouth full."

So I walked away, bald and confused.

Saturday, January 16, 2010


With the arrival of 2010, new challenges have entered my life.

Meanwhile, my adventures continue on the road. One thing I can always count on is for the strange folks (I call them 'Bill's people') to find me. After delivering a car the other day, I stood at a city bus stop in Orlando. A woman crossed the street and came up to me, she threw her hands up in the air to cheer, and had more hair in her armpits that any man I've ever seen.

'Hurray!' she shouted, 'I made it to the bus stop. You look like a nice guy, can I ask you a question?'


'Who are you voting for this year for President?'

I didn't dare correct her and remind her that the election took place just over a year ago.
Since this was obviously a loaded question, I told her that I had not decided just yet.

'Well, I have. I'm voting for Obama.'

She turned her head 90 degrees, and spoke in a deeper voice. 'McCain!'

Her head turned back, and she shouted 'Obama!'

This went on, with her turning her head as if she was two different people, arguing with herself. 'McCain!'




'Shut up!'

'You shut up!'




When she finally stopped arguing amongst herself, she turned to me demurely and said, 'I'm a little bit schizo. Do you know what that is?'

'Yes. Yes I do.'

Wherever I go, they always find me.

Sunday, January 10, 2010


As I travel around the USA, I am blessed to have many friends that let me stay over at their homes. They are all good and kind people who open their hearts to me, and only ask in return that I tell them my latest wacky stories from the road.

I always bring food to their homes, and a bottle of something if they like to drink. I like to do unto others as much as I can. I firmly feel that there is not enough kindness in the world, and that we should all try to help each other whenever possible. It's just the right thing to do. I offer help to people every day, in all kinds of situations. And in turn, perfect strangers have offered me help unexpectedly just when I need it the most.

I stayed with a friend in Ohio for nearly 3 weeks, waiting to get another car going anywhere. The company gave me a minivan going to California, and I was thrilled. Then as I was driving it, they called and said "Ooops, that minivan is going to New Hampshire instead." So I turned around and headed to New England instead of the west coast. As soon as I delivered it, there was another car in Boston headed to Detroit. And once I dropped off in Detroit, there was yet another car headed to Chicago.

As I rode the city bus in Detroit, an elderly woman spoke to me. She said "You got God all over you. You have a special aura, you're meant to do great things. God is watching over you. Believe in yourself, baby. And always feed the ducks." Well, oddly enough, I happen to have a unique fascination for ducks, and even wrote a script about them called KILLER DUCKS. But that's another blog.

Saturday, January 2, 2010


The adventures in travel continue. I drove a minivan from Florida to Ohio for an elderly man who seemed very confused about who I was and why I came to Ft. Myers asking for the keys to his van. We drove together to a gas station so he could fill it up, and on the way back to his condo he screamed about a spaceship that flew down and cut right in front of us.

Back at the condo, he asked me to please pack up all his stuff. That is not the job of a driver, but I decided to be nice and help him out. When I came into his condo for my second load, he shouted, "Who are you? What are you doing in my condominium? Are you robbing me?" I gently reminded him that I was his driver, and was simply packing his stuff as asked. To which he smiled and stuck out his hand to introduce himself, for about the fifth time that day.

En route to Ohio, he called me and asked who I was. Said he didn't recognize the number in the memory of his cell phone. I told him I was the driver, and he said he was so relieved, that he was under the impression that someone had stolen his minivan. Then I got a series of calls from him strongly encouraging me to be careful, and to please not flip over his minivan or get into any kind of bloody accident.

After I had dropped off the minivan in Columbus, Ohio, he called me the next day to say I had left a sweater in his car. I explained that I do not own any sweaters. He said it had to be mine, he was just sure of it, because "...it's black and it's wooly and big and comfortable... and... hey, you know something, this is my sweater."

The continuing adventures of the Driving Fool.