My name is Bill Thomas, and I drive cars for a living. All over the USA, for busy executives, snowbirds, anyone who wants me to drive their car and deliver it anywhere in the lower 48 in an expedited fashion. It was a cold morning in Cleveland, Ohio, and the address I had delivered to this morning was not exactly the shining gem of the city. I was actually a little bit scared, and definitely wary.
Once I drop off a car, I have to get to the next pick up. Sometimes it will be in the same city or nearby, but more often than not it's another city or another state. I've gotten very good at finding the best and cheapest modes of transport, whether its plane, train, or rental automobile. The trick used to be finding a city bus route to get from the drop off point to the transportation center. Thank goodness Uber was created, it makes my getting around much easier.
I was waiting in the chilly morning hours for my Uber to come and take me to the Cleveland Amtrak station. There I would catch a train to Chicago, where my next pick up was waiting. The Uber was taking longer than usual, and almost double the ETA that appeared on the Uber App.
Five minutes later, a rusty old pickup truck pulled up and I saw a very elderly man inside. He rolled down the passenger window and said "I'm your ride, get in."
I always introduce myself so I know I have the right driver and the right car. "I'm Bill."
"I don't care," he said as I climbed in. He stared at me with a steely gaze and said, "My name is Jocko. I'm 94 years old and I have a bad case of hemorrhoids. So now you know." He stepped on the gas so hard that my head snapped back and bounced off the head rest.
"I didn't know Uber hired drivers over 90."
"They don't. My old pal Bobby made me a fake ID that says I am 70 years old. Would you believe me if I told you I was 70?"
I looked at his wrinkled, weathered skin and his toothless grin, then replied, "I'm not good at guessing ages."
"Well, I fooled Uber, and I fooled you too."
"I'm headed to the Amtrak station."
"In what city?"
"Cleveland."
"Cleveland? There ain't no Amtrak station in Cleveland."
I was perplexed. I had a train ticket in my pocket from Cleveland to Chicago. "Can you just take me to the address I entered?"
"OK, hot shot, I'll take you to that address, but you won't find Amtrak there. And by the way, what are we going to do about all these damn aliens?"
Fearing this would open up a political conversation, I cautiously asked, "You mean illegal immigrants?"
"What? No! I mean the aliens from outer space who walk among us. And fly over us in big white balloons."
"I think that was China."
"No, boy, China is another country but its here on earth. I'm talking about Unusual Flying Objects from another planet. You need to be better informed. By the way, I saw a good movie the other day. Something about crashing into a cuckoo's nest."
"One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest?"
"That don't sound right. This was a movie about a big giant Indian man, who could not speak or hear anything. He just pushed a broom around the mental hospital. Then one day, he decided to just leave, so he tore a huge water fountain out of the floor, and threw it at the window. Then he jumped out and ran away. The end."
"I've seen that movie. A lot of other stuff happens besides that."
"Oh, I know, I know. I loved that little shrimp guy who wants always betting quarters and silver dollars."
"He bet a dime, then he bet a nickel."
"Yep, he was a funny little guy, that Screwdriver."
"His name, was Martini."
"No, that don't sound right. Where did they find that little dwarf who played Screwdriver, he was hilarious."
"He's not a dwarf, he's just short. His name is Danny DeVito."
"And after that movie, he was never heard from again."
I decided it would be foolhardy to debate this. "How far are we from my destination."
"Dammit, I told you there's no Amtrak station in Cleveland. And I -- wait, did you see that?"
"See what?" I asked.
"It was here, then it was gone."
"What was?"
"Mind your own business, that's what. Do you ever think about suicide?"
What a crazy segue. "No, not really."
"I do. A lot. I mean I don't want to live to be 100, am I right?"
"Well, as long as you're happy."
"But that's just it. I'm never happy, not ever. Sometimes when I'm driving on one of those big high overpasses, I'm tempted to crash through the guard rail and sail to my death."
Now I was officially alarmed. "Listen Jocko --"
He got very agitated. "Who said you could call me that? Don't you ever use my name without permission. You got that?"
"Yes sir."
"I think you flew out of that cuckoo's nest."
"I just want a quiet, peaceful ride sir."
Jocko slammed on the brakes, and we were nearly rear ended. "Get out."
"Beg your pardon?"
He was growling. "I said get out, and I mean now! You are making me uncomfortable, and I don't want you in my truck anymore. And neither does my dead wife Naomi. She would not have liked you one bit. Now get out, before I call the police and report you."
I climbed out of the car and he took off, his tires kicking up gravel that sprayed me. I've taken a lot of Uber rides with a lot of different drivers, but none like this one. I ordered another Uber, and it came quickly and took me to my address. And to my delight, there was an Amtrak station there. I am sure if Jocko had finished my ride he would have been furious to find there was a station here when he was so certain there was not. Riding with Jocko, I felt I had been Uber the cuckoo's nest.
