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.

Thursday, May 27, 2010


I was given a brand new car in Dallas last week, headed for Las Vegas, Nevada.

It was a sleek black Chevrolet Impala, and I knew it would be a pleasure to drive.

I had called the customer, a Mr. Andy Bertram, to tell him that his company car was on its way to Vegas. He sounded like a very nice man, both grateful and anxious to get this new car.

On the day I was to arrive, he called to tell me that he was running late, and asked if I arrived before him whether his wife could sign for the car. I told him that was no problem whatsoever.

I pulled into their driveway on a suburban street just after 12 noon on a Monday.
I walked to the front door and rang the doorbell. The door opened, and a very stern and severe-looking woman threw open the door.

“Who are you?” she snapped.

“I’m your friendly driver, I have a car for your husband.”

“I know who you are, but why are you talking to me?” she spat.

“Your husband told me that you would sign for the car if he was not here.”

“Oh no, no sir, no way. He had no right to tell you that. I have no idea what condition that car is in.”

“Mrs. Bertram, I just drove it here from Dallas and I can assure you that its in top-notch condition. Its brand new.”

“Its not brand new if you drove it from Texas, it has some miles on it. And if I’m going to sign for it, I’ll go over it with a fine tooth comb first,” she demanded.

“Oh, I encourage you to do to,” I politely offered.

“You can just bet I will.” The woman snatched the keys from me, then reached inside the house and grabbed a measuring tape and a magnifying glass. She began to go over every inch of the car, measuring and inspecting the body for any blemishes of any kind.

When she climbed into the car, she shrieked in outrage. “What's the meaning of this? There's a CD player in this car.”

“Um, yes, that's right. It's a good one, too.”

“As you well know, all our music is on cassettes, we don’t have CD’s..
This is totally unacceptable, we can not and will not take a car in such
substandard condition. We expect a quality car.”

“Understood, but–“

Nora held her hand up firmly. “No buts about it, you can just take this car
back where it came from and bring us another one."

“Actually, I can't do that,” I gently explained.

Nora's face reddened with anger. “Then there's going to be trouble, I hope
you're prepared for that!”

As Nora was speaking, an Old Rusted Car pulled into the driveway. ANDY
BERTRAM a meek little man, got out and walked up to us. As he looked at the car I had brought for him, his face lit up like a kid on Christmas morning.

“Hello, you must be my driver,” he said cheerfully.

“Yes sir, Bill Thomas.”

Nora slammed the door closed on the Impala and said, “Don't worry, I already told him to take the car back where he got it.”

“You did what?” he asked incredulously.

“Mr. Bertram, this is your new company car, and I assure you it is in fine condition.”

Nora wagged her finger at me. “Except that it doesn't have a cassette player. Andy, you know good and well that all our music is on cassettes. This has a CD player, can you believe that?”

Andy shrugged. “It's a company car, honey. MY company car.”

Nora was adamant. “It's totally unacceptable, he'll have to take it back.”

Andy shook his head sadly. “Nora, did you take your pills today?”

“Shut up! I am not crazy!”

“Honey, I didn't say you were crazy,” Andy said with some caution in his voice.

Nora eyes darted around nervously. “You implied, it was implied.”

“No sweetie, I just want you to be well.”

“So I'm sick, am I? Is that it? You bastard! You’re all against me,
no one ever takes my side.” Nora rushed into the house.

I figured I should hasten my exit. “Just sign here and I'll be out of your hair.”.

Andy signed and I gave him a copy of the paperwork. “Listen,” he said, “I
appreciate you bringing my car, it's very nice. Sorry about my wife.”

“Oh, she was no trouble at all. I’ll be headed down the road, there’s a city
bus stop at the end of your street here.”

As I walked down the driveway, Nora stormed out the front door, carrying
a baseball bat, readying to swing it at the car. “We'll just see what condition
this car is in.”

Andy jumped into Nora's path and grabbed the bat, and they struggled for it.
“No Nora, not again.”

“I'm gonna smash it!”

“No Nora, please. Remember what the Judge said the last time?”

“I need to teach those sons of bitches a lesson.”

As I walked away, I couldn’t help wondering what the Judge said, and what exactly happened the last time.

I’m certain that many people will read this and find it hard to believe that it really occurred exactly as I described. I can only promise you that there are a lot of very odd and unusual people in the world, and one by one they all find me. What may seem bizarre to you is my daily life. And the driving fool continues down the highway, trying to keep it between the lines.

Sunday, May 16, 2010


I was going to pick up a car in Jersey.
What happened was this:

I was in Florida, reaching out to Riff my boss because I had a free one way plane ticket to anywhere in the USA that Southwest flies.  My cousin is an exec with SW, and he gave me a free Buddy Pass for my birthday.  But it was gonna expire Saturday.

Riff said there was a car in New Jersey, and it was going to Miami.  So I made absolutely sure it was a certainty, then flew to NJ on Thursday.  Took two planes, ended up in Long Island.  Then took a shuttle van, then a train, then a cab, then a long bus ride.  Total cost $40 (out of my pocket)  Total time elapsed from Long Island airport to way out in NJ-- 4 1/2 hours.

I called again and again to give them updates on my travel, and Riff laughed and said not to worry.  The car was getting detailed at the car shop, and would be waiting for me at a parking lot at the end of the bus line.  Which was way, way out in the sticks.  When I got to the parking lot, the bus left and I hunted for the car.  Whoops.  It wasn't there.

So I called and called, and finally Riff answered and said the order was canceled.  The fact is that they had called and left a message for the lady the car was going to in Miami, but she had not called back.
She finally called 30 minutes before I arrived at the parking lot, and said she had been fired the day before (it was a company car)  So my office called her company, and they confirmed she was fired and
canceled the order.  All of which SHOULD have been done before I got on a plane.

My boss broke the rules, didn't follow procedure.  I asked what to do, and Riff said Good Luck and hung up.  I was stuck out in the middle of nowhere, 10 miles from the nearest small town.  No transportation, no cabs, no motels, nothing.  Plus, I had $40 cash left on me, and was counting on the check that was to be left for me in the car.

So I picked up my bags and began to walk.  And walk.  And walk.  It soon got dark, and I found a park and went way back into it, then found a nice soft spot and slept on the ground.  Made a little bed with my bags.  It actually got chilly overnight.

At 6am, Riff called to say he had another car nearby headed to Chicago.   I walked five miles to a little Diner, and a nice man there offered to drive me to pick up the car.

So now I am on my way to Chicago.  Once there, I will drop off the car and fly back to Florida.  As angry and frustrated as I was, I am grateful that I got out of it safely.  I definitely have a Guardian Angel on my shoulder, and I like to believe its my deceased Father.  The Driving Fool rides again!!

Saturday, May 8, 2010


I am busy at the computer typing more of more life experiences into scripted pieces. Working hard to develop a "Bible for the TV series of A DRIVING FOOL. It seems that Bill Thomas is growing on people.

A little while ago, I was listening to George Strait on my boom box and banging the computer keyboard.
There was a rapid knocking at my front door.
It kept on and on, and I had to put my shirt on and run for the door.
Guessed it must be urgent.

I threw open the front door, and an extremely large fat woman
said, "Hey, do you know where Lydia is?"


"Yeah, Lydia, do you know where she is?"

"No, I --"

"You look like you don't know what I'm talking about.
Lydia? My best friend in the world? Do you know if she
is at home, and if not where she is and what she's doing?"

"I don't know Lydia."

"How can you not? Everyone knows Lydia. She's a wonderful human being."

"I'm sure she is."

"She lives in this apartment complex. Or at least she
used to. I've got to find her, I've just got to."

"I'm sure you will."

"But you don't understand, I've been looking for her 3 years." Then she began to tear up, about to begin sobbing. "I can see that I've bothered you enough. Good day to you."

And with that, she marched off purposefully.

I don't even have to go out on the road to find the Crazies
anymore, they are coming to my front door.