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.

Monday, November 29, 2010


Over this past weekend, I wrote about Thanksgiving this year, and all that I was thankful for. I was filled with good cheer. This time last year was a very different story.

I was assigned to pick up a car from a man in Ogden, Utah on the day before Thanksgiving. I was thrilled that I'd be done and planned to drive the car to Ohio and have turkey dinner with Smokey. He is a very good cook, and can put on quite a spread. The car had to be in Cleveland on Saturday afternoon. Oh, I'd have to drive all day and all night to make it, but I'd be in Columbus by late evening on Thursday.

I'd called the man, a Mr. Peron, to notify him of when I'd be coming. It wasn't until I arrived in Ogden at 9am on Wednesday that he gave me the bad news on the phone. "I've decided to hang onto the car until tomorrow. I'm not done with it yet."

This put a lump in my throat. "Excuse me sir, but I was instructed to get it today. I'm on a schedule."

"I don't give a damn about your schedule. You hear me? I just got fired from my job, and now they're taking my company car. But you don't care, do you? No one cares. So I called my ex-supervisor and told him that I'm keeping it until Thursday at 10am. And oh, by the way, he approved it, so there's not a damn thing you can do about it. Stuff that in your peace pipe and smoke it, amigo!" He abruptly hung up the phone on me.

I called Riff to verify this, and ended up getting cussed out for not being aggressive enough. I told Riff that I had to feel a bit of compassion that the man lost his job right at the holiday season, and Riff said, "You're weak and worthless, and you always will be. You think that kindness to others is a virtue? Well I'm telling you that its a character flaw, and you are a loser. You'll never get anywhere in life by showing sympathy and understanding to others. Oh, hey, Bill, who is that looking out at you from the mirror? Why its Bill the loser!"

The Internet assisted me in finding a cheap motel to stay overnight very near Mr. Peron's house. It was very cold out, so I called a taxi the next morning to take me there and arrived at 10am. Clearly, there was no one at home. I buttoned my coat up tight and took out a book to read. I sat waiting on the porch of the house, blowing little clouds from my mouth into the crisp chilly air.

At 12 noon sharp, the family pulled into their driveway and began to unload bags of food. It appeared they had picked up a fully cooked dinner from a restaurant somewhere in Ogden. "Oh my God," said Mr. Peron when he saw me. "Can't you leave a man alone? I can't believe the way you're harrassing me about this car. For the love of Mike, you are one persistent little bastard. Do you mind? We're not Mormons, you know! Please let us eat our Thanksgiving dinner in peace and then you can take the car. Now go away!"

I walked down the block, but soon realized I was too far to walk to anyplace where I could go inside and wait. Plus there aren't all that many places open on Thanksgiving day. So I just walked circles around his block, hoping to warm up. I took out my cell phone and called Smokey.

"Bill, you turkey, when are you getting here."

"That's the thing, Smokey, I don't think I'm gonna make it."

"What? Why?"

"I was supposed to pick this car up over 24 hours ago, and the man still hasn't released it to me."

"So he's a real dick, huh? Then you just tell him that you by God need that car and snatch the keys away from him."

"If only."

"No man, I mean it. You gotta take the bull by the horns, tell him what's what. It's Thanksgiving day, and I was counting on you to be here. You're supposed to be bringing me a bottle of Maker's Mark, you know."

"I know. And believe me, I want to be there."

"I've got stuff on the stove I need to tend to, call me when you get on the road."

After hanging up, I walked back to the house and rang the doorbell. An hour had passed, and I felt that it was time I got the car. Mr. Peron came to the door with a disgusted look on his face. "You just don't give up, do you Auto Boy? You are a pest who just keeps poke-poke-poking til you drive a man crazy. Well, the gas tank is on empty, so good luck to you. Here's the keys." And he threw the keys over my shoulder and out into the yard.

"I am really sorry you lost your job, sir, and I want to wish you and your family a Happy Thanksgiving."

"Screw you!" he said, and slammed the door in my face.

I got the keys and started the car. The gas needle was on "E", but luckily there was enough gas to get me to the closest gas station and fill up. I didn't get to Smokey's until late Friday night, but there were still plenty of leftovers. Mr. Peron was rude and seemed intent on ruining my day. But I chose to keep Thanksgiving alive in my heart, and to try my best to be understanding about how painful it is to lose a job in today's economy.

Friday, November 26, 2010


I spend a lot of time alone as I drive across this great country. And once each day, I say a little prayer as I drive to thank God for all of the things that I have. I feel that God understands that I don't close my eyes when I pray behind the wheel.

Now on Thanksgiving Day, I am thinking of all the many things I have to be thankful for.
Like the fact that I have a job in this economy, even if it is not the job that I really wish for. And that I keep on moving down the road, never staying in one place for too long.

I am especially grateful for all of my friends throughout the USA, who are kind enough to invite me into their homes and give me shelter for the night. There's Lisa who is my protector, Steve my best friend from High School, Pastor Rex who took me in when I was very ill, JC who is a human firecracker (pop, pop, pop!), Smokey my ex-rocker stoner friend who has been like a big brother to me, Frank in Birmingham, Ginny my ex-landlady, Tom and Jenny on the dog ranch in Texas, and Karen the love of my life in Indianapolis. And this only begins to scratch the surface.

Also, I feel thankful for all of the beautiful places I have been so blessed to see. From Maine to California, from Seattle to Miami, I have run back and forth across this great nation too many times to count. As much as I travel on the Interstate Highways, I often find myself taking smaller old highways so I can see what is off the beaten path. Wonderful and fascinating things have come my way, and I love every single minute of it.

I'm even appreciative of "Bill's people," the odd folks who seem to be attracted to me like a magnet wherever I go. Someone once told me that we all pass these strange people everyday, but most just walk on by them and pay no attention. The difference is that I engage them, and in doing so often become enlightened or learn new weird facts. Thank goodness that it always gives me good stuff to write about in my blogs.

My gratitude runs deep for all of the truly great human beings that I meet on my journeys, and that I feel somehow compelled to reach out to them and offer help when needed. In turn, I have often been helped by other people as well, and it warms my heart to know that there are others out there who genuinely care.

As most Americans sit and eat a big turkey dinner today, I will be driving cars and delivering them to eager customers. It's the life of a thankful driving fool.

Saturday, November 20, 2010


I had to stop to use the bathroom yesterday. I was in Virginia, and stopped in a small town and went to a nice hotel. There are always fresh, clean bathrooms there, and I like a spotless toilet.

As I sat in my stall, I heard a voice. "Hey." I didn't know where the voice came from, but assumed it was not aimed at me. "Hey, you in there, can you hear me?" I was still unsure, but now became slightly uneasy. The call of nature is a very private time for me.

A hand appeared under the wall separating me from the next stall, and it was snapping its fingers at me. "Hey, it's me, over here. Your next door neighbor." The voice had a thick accent, like one of the guys on JERSEY SHORE. "Hey pal, don't leave me hanging. I mean, I assume you are a pal, if you are a girl then I'm in the wrong place." He cackled.

"Hello," I answered sheepishly.

"Good to know you're there. Hey, it's a cold one out there today, isn't it?"

"Yes, I guess."

"No, no, don't guess. Never guess in life, be sure and you'll always rest assured. You follow my logic?"

"I suppose I do."

"You're a non-commital fellow, aren't you? Well that's cool, takes all kinds." His hand remained in sight, and he was very expressive using it as he spoke. "Nothing like a good dump, don't you agree?"

"Uh, well, I uh--"

"No need to be shy, we're both men after all. We're just a couple of guys, hanging out, sitting here taking our daily constitutionals."

"I just like to sit quietly and meditate."

"I heard that. Yes, I know exactly what you mean. Can I give you a piece of free advice? Invest. America needs a shot in the arm, and if we all invest our financial status will rise accordingly."

"Good to know."

"Damn straight. I'd tell you what to invest in, but then you'd know all my secrets."

"That's OK."

"It'll have to be OK, that's the last word I'm going to say on the matter. Say, are you one of those guys?"

"One of what guys?"

"You know, the kind who do stuff?"

"I don't think I know what you mean."

"Oh, I think you do."

"No, I really do not. I just like to sit quiet and alone and mind my business."

"Buddy, I couldn't agree with you more if I tried, so I won't."

I had to think that one over. Then I remained quiet. I watched the hand moving under the stall wall, as if it had a mind of its own. It began snapping fingers once more.

"Hey, you still there?"

"Yes, I am, sitting in silence."

"I want you to know that I'm not one of those guys."

"One of what guys?"

"The kind of guys who look for friends in the bathroom."

"That's goodl"

"Looking for friends, or maybe friends with benefits."

Uh-oh, I thought. I took a deep breath. "I'm not looking for anything."

"Well, anything is exactly what I can provide. For a friend, that is."

"I'm not your friend."

"That's a hell of a thing to say. You don't even know me." The hand disappeared, then it came back and tossed a roll of toilet paper my way. "Thought you might need this."

"Nope, I'm all set over here. But thanks." I hurried to finish up so I could get out.

"I"ve decided to forgive and forget about that remark about not being my friend. I know you didn't mean to be rude."

I quickly got dressed and flushed, rushing out of the stall. I heard his stall door opening behind me as I scurried for the exit door. "Hey, hey, don't forget to wash your hands! Do you know how nasty it is to run out without a proper washing?"

Yes I do know, and I soon found another place to wash my hands. But my bigger priority at that moment was getting as far away as possible.

Friday, November 12, 2010


I rent cars all the time to get around, from one car I deliver to another. I've become very good at finding the nearest location, the best prices, and getting around via Avis, Hertz, Budget, etc. And things usually always go very smoothly, as I enter the agency with a solid reservation and a smile on my face.

Just the other day, I was in Los Angeles and had dropped off a car. I had an important meeting across town with someone who felt my Blogs could be turned into a TV series. I set the reservation for 8am, when they opened, and I was there right on time. At 8:30, the woman who worked there finally showed up and opened the front doors. She told me it was going to take a few minutes for her to get set up and feel in the right mood to be ready to go to work. I'd never heard of such a thing. I wanted to ask why she opened up late, but didn't want to get off on the wrong foot. It helps to be positive in life, makes things run more smoothly.

When she finally got started, she said "OK, now, you want a car?"

"Yes I do, please."

"Sorry, we don't have any available."

"Oh, but I have a reservation," I said as I pulled out the paperwork.

"Don't make no difference if I ain't got no cars."

"But ma'am, I made my reservation over a week ago."

"I don't care about that, I ain't got no cars."

I looked at her nametag: MABEL. "Pardon me, Mabel, but--"

She interrupted me with defiance, "My name is Miss Roosevelt."

"Pardon me, OK, Miss Roosevelt. Listen, I have an important appointment in a half hour from now, and I really need to get there."

"May I suggest the city bus?"

"I really need a car."

"Well good luck on getting one."

Just my luck. I was dealing with one of "Bill's people." Please God, not now, not today.

"Miss Roosevelt, somehow there has to be a way that you can honor my reservation."

"I don't know nothin' about no honor, but I know I ain't got no car for you. Unless you want to upgrade."

"What? Upgrade?"

"Your reservation is for a compact, I ain't got no compacts."

"So you found my reservation?"

"Baby, I never lost it. It's right here in my computer, but if I got no compact cars, then you have to upgrade. How about a nice minivan?"

"Absolutely, that'll be fine."

"It'll be $35 more per day."

"Wait, why would I pay more per day?"

"For the upgrade? Don't you know how things work?"

"Yes I do, and in the past if your company didn't have the car I ordered, they gave me a free upgrade."

"Free? Free! You gotta be dreamin', why would I give you anything free? Maybe in the wonderful world of Oz, but not in the real world."

"This doesn't seem right to me."

Mabel suddenly got very upset and raised her voice. "Hold on! You just hold on! What are you accusing me of? Huh? What are you saying about me? You trying to tell me how to run my business? You think you can tell me how to do my job?"

"No, please, calm down."

"Don't you tell me to calm down! Don't you think you can tell me how to live my life! No sir! This here is Mabel's place, and you're in Mabel's space. With Obama comes change!"

I had heard that last sentence once before, and it didn't quite make sense to me either time. I went over and sat in a chair, trying to show that she was in charge and I was backing down. Frankly, my blood was boiling inside, but I felt I must act submissive if I was going to get the car I needed.

"You about ready to cool your jets and be a good boy, now?" she asked.

"Yes. I would like the minivan, if you would be so kind, Miss Roosevelt."

"Good, now that's what I like. Good manners will always win you what you need." She went about the paperwork, and I glanced at my watch. It was going to be tough to make it where I needed to go with morning traffic in L.A. And Mabel was going so slow.

After 20 minutes of dragging her feet, she had finally completed my paperwork. During this time, another customer had walked in and said, "Got any cars for rent?" to which she replied "Well maybe I do and maybe I don't." They left immediately.

I signed my paperwork and hurried out to the minivan. I saw it had only a 1/4 tank of gas, and Mabel had said it was full and that I had to bring it back full. So I went back in to have her make a note of the actual gas in the tank. "I'll have to go outside and look at the car and see for myself before I agree to that. Before I make any kind of note, I have to see that gas needle for myself," she proclaimed.

"OK, fine, come on out and take a look."

"I'm about to take my morning coffee break, I'll come out in 15 minutes when I'm done."

"Goodbye, Mabel."

"That's Miss Roosevelt to you! And if you leave now, you are responsible for a full tank of gas!"

I left, because a full tank of gas was not as bad to deal with as being late to a meeting.

Saturday, November 6, 2010


I pulled into the driveway of a nice suburban home in Omaha, NE the other day. The car was a new Ford Escape, and the customer was waiting for me with a big smile on his face. "Did you have any trouble finding the place?" he asked me.

"No sir, Mr. Richards, it was exactly where Mapquest said it would be. I'm Bill Thomas, and this is your new car."

"What do I need to do, this is my first ever company car."

"Just look it over and inspect it to your personal satisfaction."

Mr. Richards began to look the car over while I stood by and looked on. I felt a tap on my lower back, and turned around to see a small boy standing behind me.

This boy stared up at me in a most unusual way. I guessed him to be about 8 or 9 years old. Then he spoke. "Did you know that Luke Skywalker is one of the best star pilots in the galaxy?"

Being a fan of STAR WARS, I did happen to know this was true. Well, in the movies, anyway. "Yes I do know that," I told him, and the little boy ran quickly away from me. I chuckled, and Mr. Richards looked over at me.

"That was Alex, he lives a couple of houses down. He's an odd duck, but he's very bright. And he seems to like all things STAR WARS."

"I can see that."

"This car looks great."

"You're getting a new car, sir. A lot of times I pick up a used car from one company employee and then take it to a new hire. But you got lucky, this one came directly from the dealership."

"I feel lucky," he said. I felt a tap on my back again, and turned to see that Alex had magically appeared behind me once more.

"Did you know that Darth Vader is Luke Skywalker's father?"

"Yes, and it blew me away when I first saw EMPIRE STRIKES BACK." Alex paused for a brief second, seeming to process this information, and then he ran off lickety-split. I turned my attention back to the customer.

He looked slightly concerned. "I know this is new, but what if a part is defective or something. I mean, it happens sometimes, right?"

"That's unlikely, but if there were something wrong with the car it would be my job to tell you about it. Trust me, the car is in great condition."

Another poke-poke-poke on my back, and I spun around. This kid was certainly stealthy. "Did you know that Luke Skywalker is Princess Leia's brother?"


Alex nodded, and then seemed troubled. "Do you think it was wrong that they kissed on the lips? I do." And off he zoomed once again before I could share my opinion on this matter.

Mr. Richards walked over and patted me on the back. "Alex is really taking a shine to you. He's not normally so friendly and open with people. Especially not strangers."

"He seems hungry to chat about the STAR WARS universe. That's cool, it's nice that he has a deep love for movies. I can relate to that." I felt a tug at my jeans, and spun around to find Alex there again. How did he keep sneaking up on me?

"Did you know that Obi Wan Kenobi was Darth Vader's best friend, back when Vader was Annakin Skywalker? And that Obi Wan hurt his friend so badly that Vader had to live in a life support suit?"

"I know all of the above."

While I was finding all of this amusing, Mr. Richards seemed to have grown impatient. "Listen Alex, we're trying to conduct some business here, so why don't you go home for a while."

Alex moved towards Mr. Richards, waving his hand in the air and speaking with a mystical tone. "You don't want me to go home."

"What do you mean I don't want you to go home?"

Alex glared at Mr. Richards and waved his hand once more. "You want me to stay here and talk about the Force."

Mr. Richards let out a long sigh of frustration. "Alex, go home now, please." And Alex zipped away with Jedi speed. "I'm sorry Bill, I don't know what to tell you."

"No apology necessary, I think he's kind of cool. I just want to know how he keeps on appearing out of nowhere."

"That's Alex for you. But I admit that I don't know why he was waving his hand at me and talking so strangely."

"He was trying to pull a Jedi mind trick on you."

"A what?"

"Jedi mind trick. Jedi Knights?" The man stared at me with a blank expression. "Guess you're not much of a STAR WARS fan, huh?"

"Never saw any of the STAR WARS movies. I'm not into sci fi."

"Understood." Suddenly, Alex leaped out of nowhere and landed on the back bumper of the Ford Escape.

"Did you know that Chewbacca's best friend is Han Solo?"

"Yes," I said.

"They are friends for life." Alex disappeared before Mr. Richards could scold him again.

"So, where do I sign for the car?" asked Mr. Richards.

"Right here, then I'll give you a copy and then I'll be gone."

He signed the paperwork, then asked "Can I give you a ride somewhere?"

"I have to rent a car to go to Cedar Rapids and pick up my next driving
assignment. If you wouldn't mind taking me to Avis?"

"Not at all," he said, climbing into the Ford Escape. "It'll give me a chance
to test drive my new SUV."

As I began to climb in on the passenger side, Alex dropped in front of me from
the limb of a tree. He was holding a very realistic-looking lightsaber. It was less a
toy and more a collector's item. I was very impressed with the authenticity. "If we
met in battle, I'd defeat you with my lightsaber. That's because I'm strong with the

I knelt down next to Alex. "Remember, don't give in to the dark side."

Alex smiled for the first time. "I won't." I climbed into the Escape, and Alex poked me from behind one last time. "You should have this. It's my Boba Fett." It was an action figure, and a dandy one at that. Boba Fett is a very interesting character, and I could tell that it meant a lot to Alex.

"That is very cool. But you should hang onto it."

"No, please, I mean, really... I want you to have it. You're my STAR WARS friend."

I could see that he truly wanted me to have it, so I took it graciously. "May the Force be with you, Alex."

His smile widened by about a mile. He looked very happy as he replied, "May the Force be with you." As I drove away, I watched him from my side view mirror. I saw him squat down low, then spring up into the air. I stuck my head out the window and looked, but could not see where he had gone. This kid really took Jedi worship to a whole new level.

Wednesday, November 3, 2010


I had just driven over 1000 miles to deliver a pickup truck to a water filtration company in Arkansas. Riff had told me that the drop off location was just on the edge of Little Rock, but it was in fact 35 miles out of the city. I had a headache from the drive, because the truck was set with an alarm that went off if you dared to go over 65 mph. Even though I set the Cruise Control on 63 mph, each time I'd go down a hill I'd pick up speed and WOO-WOO-WOO, the screechingly loud alarm would go off and not stop until I lowered my speed to 55 mph. What a complete nightmare this drive had been. And with no radio in the car for distraction.

Riff had made it clear that he wasn't paying for a taxi, and I sure didn't want to pay for one out of pocket. But I had been able to talk the man I was delivering the truck for to get me a ride to the airport. There I would rent a car and go to Dallas, where there was a Ford cargo van just waiting for me to drive it to Maine.

I stood in the parking lot at the water filtration company, having done all the paperwork, and waited for 30 minutes as the employee was starting his day. It had been explained to me that this guy was going through Little Rock on a service call, so he'd drop me at the airport on his way. My inner voice shouted "Hallelujah!" and I was glad to be a darned lucky driving fool.

"You the guy I'm giving a ride to?" I heard the voice behind me, and turned around to see a young man standing a few yards back.

"Yes, hi, I'm Bill Thomas."

"I'm Joe, let's go." We both went to his truck and climbed inside. He started it up and revved the engine a few times.

"You said your name is Joe?" I asked politely.

"Yeah, but my Mom calls me Joey. My friends all call me JoJo." He gave me a long look, as if he were studying me intently. "You can call me JoJo."

"Thanks, I'm honored."

"You shouldn't be." JoJo peeled out and I found myself grabbing the armrest on my door out of pure instinct and survival. JoJo stuck a huge hunk of tobacco into his mouth, and looked at me with a weak smile. "I know what you're thinking. Go ahead, guess."

"Guess what?"

"What you're thinking."

"I don't follow you."

"You don't have to. Just take a guess."

"What am I guessing?"

"You know."

"No JoJo, really, I do not know."

"You want to know how old I really am. Go ahead and guess."

I hadn't really thought about it up to then, but as I looked at him I
realized that he looked very young. Like he was 17 or 18 years old. But
I seriously doubted that he'd be a Service Technician driving a company
truck at that age. "You look like you're 18, but--"

He interrupted me with a loud snort of laughter, and slapped his knee. "I knew it, I knew it, everyone always thinks I look young. A lot younger than I am."

I shrugged. "OK, how old are you?"

He turned his head quickly and gave me a hateful look. "Why are you asking? Why do you want to know?"

"Uh, no reason. Sorry."

JoJo continued to stare at me, then said, "I'll tell you this much, I'm older than 18, and that's for damn sure."

I nodded. "OK."

"You bet its OK. All right, then. How was your ride here?"

"It was tiring."

"Did the alarm ever go off on you?"

"Frequently, and it was horrible."

"Then you were driving too damn fast. You need to learn to slow down, you
were breaking the law."

"Uh, well, I had the Cruise Control set on 63, and the speed limit was 70."

"That don't make no sense. The alarm goes off when you hit 65."

"It seems that when you go down a hill, the truck picks up speed. And that would set off
the alarm."

"I'd say it was clear you were going too fast." JoJo held an empty cup up to his mouth and spit in it. "I hate driving into Little Rock. I hate city living."

"Where do you live?"

JoJo snapped at me. "I'm not telling you where I live, that's private."

"Sorry man, no offense."

"Well offense was taken."


"I will tell you this: I live in the country. Way, way out from the city. On a farm all by myself. And that is just the way I like it, too."

"Good for you."

"You betcha. No one bothers me, or else, if you know what I mean."

"What do you mean?"

JoJo turned and stared at me for what felt like a real long time. "You sure are a nosey sumbitch, ain't you?" He spit into the cup.

"I don't mean to be."

"Yeah, but you are just the same. Wanna hear a true story?"

"Yes, please."

"I have a lot of tools out on the farm. I spend every dollar I earn on my tools, and I only buy the best. And I keep them up good and maintain them. Maintaining your tools is the key. And never ever let another man touch your tools, that's worth killing a man over."

"I see."

"I doubt you do, but let me continue. Someone started stealing tools out of my barn, and I wasn't too happy about it. After it happened twice, I knew something had to be done. I set a big metal plate upright by the barn door. Then I wrapped myself up in a quilt and sat under the front porch of my house, by the crawlspace. I got my rifle and just waited."

"What happened?"

"If you'll hold your horses and give me a minute, I'll tell you." JoJo paused to turn and give me a dirty look, then let out a long sigh. "Anyway, about two in the morning, they come creeping onto my property and headed straight for the barn. Two fellas, stupid as they were ugly."

"Could you see them very well?"

"It was too dark to see their faces, now shut up and let me tell my story. So right when they got to the barn door, I shot that metal plate and it made quite a bang. Scared the bejeezus out of them." JoJo formed a sickly grin on his lips. "Yep, I imagine they'll remember that."

"Then what happened?"

JoJo snarled at me. "Then what happened is none of your damn business, that's what!"

I became very quiet. I did not wish to say the wrong thing again and anger JoJo. He seemed very hot under the collar. We rode along for nearly half an hour in total silence, during which JoJo seemed to cool down again. "Looks like we're getting near the airport," I said.

JoJo stared out the window, distracted. "Maybe we are, yep, just maybe we are. The Sheriff came by my place to ask some questions. You know how it is. But I had nothing to tell him, because absolutely nothing happened." He shot me a quick glance. "You do believe that nothing happened, don't you?" Once more, he spit into the cup.

"Of course I do."

"Good to know, good to know." JoJo had an odd and eerie look in his eyes, and almost seemed to be half in a trance. "A man has a right to protect his property. You can't touch another man's tools. And if someone comes onto your land, that's trespassing. They were taking their lives into their own hands. You can see that, can't you?"

I didn't know what to say. "Guess so."

JoJo became agitated and shouted, "You can see my point, can't you?"

"You bet, sure can, no doubt about it."

JoJo became calm again and scratched his chin. "Listen, I'd appreciate it if you'd keep this between us. No reason to talk about it with anyone else."


"So we're in agreement?"

"Yes sir."

"Because no crime was committed."

"I'm sure of that."

"What makes you so sure? What gives you the right to be judge, jury
and executioner?"

I saw the sign marking the road leading into the airport. "Here's our turn."

JoJo pulled over to the curb and slammed on the brakes. "This is the end of the line
for you, Bill Thomas. You can get out and be on your way."

I grabbed my bag and climbed out of the truck. "I really do appreciate the ride,

"I doubt your sincerity. You need to learn not to pry into another man's business. And so forth." JoJo skidded away before I could even close my door. I began the two mile walk to the Terminal where I'd rent a car. And for the rest of the day, I found myself wondering what may have happened to the Tool Robbers. Also, I pondered how I have the fortune to meet so many... interesting people each and every day.