THE PRESIDENT'S NIECE

I was told by my boss Riff to pick up a car from a lady in Florida. The car was going to her horse ranch up in Virginia, 30 miles outside of Washington, D.C. And he told me that she was the great niece of a famous former President of the United States.

Riff called me at the last minute to say that another driver would be meeting me at her Florida mansion. He said that she had two cars, and that we were to drive them north in tandem. When I walked up her driveway, I heard a male voice say loudly, “It’s you!” Out from behind a big tree stepped Andy, the paranoid driver who I had come across several times in the past. He was obviously high as a kite.

“Hello Andy,” I said.

“Don’t call me that. Do not call me Andy like we are friends. You always conspire against me.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean you to mistake me for being a friend. I was just trying to be polite and civil.”

“Don’t try any of that stuff either. Hear me? I’ve had just about enough of you, Mister. I know you and your game, you are out to get me!”

“Fine, whatever.”

“Oh no, you can’t just blow me off like yesterday’s news. We are being forced to work together, to ride in tandem, to caravan together. So just remember that I’m in charge.”

“I’ll be going my own way, I suggest you do the same.”

“You will be subservient to me, you will follow my directions. You follow me? Cuz if you don’t, I will punish you. I will come down on you like the wrath of God, or worse, like the wrath of a woman scorned. God has no wrath like a woman scorned!”

The lady walked out the door. She seemed distracted and a little bit haughty. I tried to shush Andy. “Shh, quiet, here she comes,” I pleaded.

“Don’t you shush me, I will not be shushed.”

“Shh!”

“I will not be shushed by the likes of you. Say, do you know who her father is?”

“Andy, shut up.” She stepped up to us. “Hello ma’am, I’m Bill Thomas and he’s Andy.”

“Fine. Who is driving the Escalade?” She held out a set of keys.

Andy stepped forward and snatched the keys from her hand. “That will be my honor. I am the best driver in our company, and proud of it. By the way, I loved your father. He was the best leader this country ever had.”

She let out a resigned sigh. “He was my great uncle.”

Andy winked at her. “I know he was, I just bet he was. You guys must be rich, based on what I’m seeing here. How much would you say you’re worth, total assets?”

The woman looked perturbed and not a little shocked. “That’s none of your business. Just do your job.”

Andy acted like he was trying to flirt. He leered at her and spoke suggestively. “You do YOUR job.” Much as I don’t care about Andy, I was feeling embarrassed for him. He was so clueless.

She turned to me. “So you’ll be driving my Mercedes?”

“Yes. I will be there day after tomorrow.” She turned and went back into the house.

Andy began to give me instructions about how we were going to drive, when we were going to take breaks. I completely ignored him, climbing into the Mercedes sedan and taking off. The car was so full that there was barely enough room for me and my duffel bag. She had loaded it beyond capacity, and I was worried that I couldn’t see out the back window.

It was a long hard drive up to Virginia. There were a whole lot of snowbirds going up I-95 from Florida to their summer homes in the northeastern states. The problem with all these many senior citizens on the road all at once is that some of them go 65mph, some 60, and some 50. It causes a whole lot of unnecessary traffic backups. Especially when the ones going 50mph get in the left lane and just stay there. Most people just line up behind them like there is no other choice. I personally get into the right lane and cruise on by them. The speed limit is 70, and that is what I intend to do.

I called the former President’s niece early on the day I was set to deliver. She was not answering her phone, so I simply told her voicemail what time I would arrive. As I neared her horse ranch, the roads got more winding and narrow, and following the Mapquest instructions became increasingly difficult. The final dirt road that led five miles to her property was one lane, and made things tricky when an huge truck came towards me from the opposite direction. I had to press the car on the side as close as I could snuggle up to a barbed wire fence. Even then, I was not too sure that the truck would get by me. There were literally inches to spare.

When I pulled up in front of her ranch house, she came marching out in a huff and put her hands on her hips. “Where is the other guy?”

“Excuse me?” I asked.

“The guy driving my Escalade. He left a very strange message for me this morning saying that he was going to take some time and stop at Civil War battlefields along the way. He said my father would understand.”

“I think he meant your great uncle.”

“I know what he meant. I don’t care what he meant. Where is my Escalade?”

“I think you should call my boss Riff.”

“No, I’m asking you.”

“No disrespect meant, but I got your Mercedes here safely. I can’t be responsible for another driver.” Especially when it’s Andy, I thought to myself.

“Leave the car there, I’m going inside to call your boss. You may leave.”

“I have to wait for the airport shuttle to come and pick me up.”

“Honestly, I am not happy with you waiting here on my property.”

I looked around at the vast nothingness. “I’m not sure where else I can wait.”

“Just please make yourself scarce.” She stormed inside, very unhappy.

I walked up the driveway to the dirt road, guessing I could see the shuttle better when it came to pick me up. As I walked along, a large mocha colored dog came running up to me. He really wanted to be friends, and I really love dogs. So I bent down and petted him. He licked me on the face. After a few minutes, I continued up the driveway, and he followed me. The woman came out the door and began to shout. “Potus! Potus! Come back here.” The dog didn’t budge. “Potus, get down here right now! Potus! I will whip you if you don’t get down here.” I felt sorry for the dog. I would not want this woman to be mad at me, but Potus seemed happy to hang out with me. So I started walking back down towards the house, and the dog followed me. She pointed at me. “What are you doing?” she said, sounding confused and nervous.

“What?”

“Why are you coming back into my yard?”

“The dog is following me.”

“The dog is coming because I called the dog. You can stay up by the road.” I stopped, and the dog stopped next to me. The woman seemed irritated. She turned on her heel and went into the house. Then she came back out onto the porch carrying a raw steak. “Potus!” The dog went bounding towards her, and she went into the house. The dog followed her, and she slammed the door hard.

As I stood waiting for the airport shuttle, my cell phone rang. “Hello, Riff.”

“I just got a very upset call from the lady you delivered to. She said you were molesting her dog.”

“I pet the dog, that’s all.”

“Why in the world did you deliver without Andy?”

“Because Andy is a flake. He called the lady and said he is stopping to tour Civil War battlefields on his way up. He may show up in the next two days.”

“Well then, your job is to back him up. He happens to be patriotic. If he delays delivery, then so do you.”

“No sir. I deliver promptly and responsibly, on time as promised.”

“You are a freakin’ boy scout. No one likes a good citizen. You need to get rough around the edges and learn to be a man!”

I hung up. Then I turned and looked at the house where Potus lived. Suddenly, I remembered having seen pictures of this particular President and his family in front of this house. Wow. With all the weird people I meet and strange adventures I experience, there is something pretty cool about this job sometimes.

CROSSING THE DELAWARE

My first assignment back on the road was picking up a car in Maryland to drive to Bonita Springs, Florida. I flew to Baltimore, then took a train way outside of town, nearly to the northern Maryland border. There I was met at the train station by elderly Mrs. Sherman, who lived in a nearby town that no trains, buses, or rental cars ever visited.

"Climb in, and be quick about it. We have a long ride ahead of us," she told me. This was confusing, for I had measured the distance at 14 miles from the train to her town. And for someone who seemed to be in a hurry, she never drove more than 30mph, even though the speed limit was 50mph.

As we pulled into her small, quaint town, she announced, "I am going to give you a tour of my little town now, which you will want to thank me for. Tell me your name again?"

"Bill Thomas."

"First name?"

"Bill."

"One more time?"

"Bill."

"Bill, of course. Bill, I am 92 years old and I still have a lot of years ahead of me." She paused and nodded.

"That's great, good for you."

She looked at me with a hurt expression. "Please don't interrupt me, Bill, I'm trying to give you a tour. Now, over there is where someone very famous once gave a speech during the Civil War. Do you know who that was?"

"No, Mrs. Sherman."

"Oh dear. I was hoping that you would know, I seem to have forgotten. Now, if you look out your window to the right, you'll see the spot where General George Washington crossed the Delaware. Do you know why he crossed there?"

"No, ma'am."

"Because it was the most narrow part of the river. By the way, George Washington went on to become our first President of these United States." We drove past a park where a large group of geese were congregating. "Look over there, Bill. Those are Canadian geese that you see. Now I know what you're thinking, they look like ducks, but they are not. Those are Canadian geese."

"Yes, ma'am." Moments later, we pulled into her driveway, and she said to come inside the house so she could give me a tour.

"Bill, I have a nice home here and one in Florida. And the reason is that I married three very wealthy men and outlived them all. Of course, I didn't plan it that way, it's just the way things turned out. They died. But I am still very much alive."

I had her sign the paperwork, then began my journey down to Florida. It was rather uneventful, except for her phone calls to me once an hour. "Bill, where are you now? And how is my car doing? Do you have plenty of gas?"

On the second day, she called to see when I would be meeting her in Florida. I asked what time she'd get to Bonita Springs.

"Well Bill, I am flying into the Ft. Myers airport, so you can pick me up there and drive me to Bonita Springs."

"I'm very sorry Mrs. Sherman, but the company will not allow me to take passengers when I'm driving a car. It's an insurance issue."

"Don't worry about it, Bill. Your boss said it would be OK."

So I called the boss Riff to verify this, and he laughed and told me that they never had any such conversation. Then Riff said, "She's just trying to avoid taking a cab, that would run her nearly $100 for that distance. You know what, go ahead and pick her up at the airport, help an old lady out."

"I don't mind, as long as you've cleared it."

The next day, I timed it to be at the airport exactly as she came off the plane, and drove around and around until she walked out. She seemed very surprised to see me, and asked, "How in the world did you get here just as I walked out?"

"I'm good at my job."

"Yes you are. You certainly are. And no one can say differently. Now, let me show you some of the interesting sights on the drive down to Bonita Springs." There was not a lot to see on the Interstate highway we were on, but she pointed to trees and told me what kind they were. And she also kindly identified some birds she saw, or perhaps thought she saw. Though she swore she saw a flock of pink flamingos crossing in front of us on I-75, I did not see them.

As we pulled into the driveway of her condo complex, she asked me how I intended to get out of Bonita Springs. "I'll take a city bus to Avis rental cars, then drive to Miami to pick up my next car."

"OK, Bill, well you just unload my car for me and then you can be on your way."

"I'm very sorry, Mrs. Sherman, but we aren't allowed to ever touch a customer's private belongings. It is a very strict rule, so the company won't be liable for anything."

"Oh now don't you worry, I spoke to your boss and he said it would be fine."

Well, I didn't want to pull out my cell phone and call Riff. So I made an executive decision there on the spot. For goodness sake, this lady was 92, and I do have a heart. And that heart was tugging at me.

What I didn't count on was just how much stuff she had. The backseat was loaded, but then I opened the trunk. A big Cadillac can have lots of trunk space, and she had some huge suitcases fully loaded. And one steamer trunk. Snowbirds pack heavily. I started with the first load, and she told me that her unit was on the third floor, just next to the elevator. When I arrived at the elevator doors on the first floor, I found a large sign "OUT OF ORDER." Which of course meant that I had to carry all of her stuff up the stairs. It was a rare hot and humid day in south Florida, and I was sweating enough to fill a swimming pool.

After ten trips, I was drenched, and my clothes were plastered to me. I went to Mrs. Sherman to have her sign the paperwork so I could go. As she opened her purse, she said to me, "Thank you so much. Now Bill, I can tell that you are a man of integrity, and that is why I will not insult you by offering you a gratuity." She pulled a tissue out of her purse and dabbed her forehead with it. "Have a grand and wonderful day."

I picked up my duffel bag and started to walk to the bus stop. And I wondered if when she told me that she wouldn't insult me with a gratuity, maybe I should have said, "I spoke to my boss and he said it would be OK."

DAYTONA BIKER WEEK

A few weeks back, Biker Week came to an end in Daytona Beach, Florida.
And at the end of that week, I was given a car to drive up to Allentown, PA.
Which meant that I was driving with a whole lot of traffic up I-95, most of
them motorcycles.

They often ride in bunches, and a group of them can easily be as long as a semi truck.
But unlike a truck, their size can expand or shorten, sort of like an accordian.
So getting around them can be tricky.

I have to hand it to them, speaking from a safety standpoint.
They will often go 55 to 60mph in a zone that is marked for 70mph.
But I'm doing a job and need to go the maximum allowed speed, which meant
in this case passing them.
A few times there were just two Bikers, and when I'd try to speed up and go around
them, they'd gun their engines and speed up even faster than me to cut me off.
At first I thought it was coincidence, and then decided maybe they were screwing with me.

When I stopped in South Carolina for gas, an elderly Gent came rapidly towards me, limping along as he used a cane for support.
As he approached me, I was pumping gas into my tank.
He surprised me by lifting his cane and poking me in the chest with it.
"Just who do you think you are, young man?"

I was bemused. "Beg pardon?"

"I don't like the way you drive!"

"You don't?"

"No sir, I do not. You're zigging and zagging all through traffic, weaving in and out, doing at least 100 miles per hour."

"I think you've made a mistake."

"Don't sass me, boy! Don't try to treat me like an old fool." He poked me with
the cane again for emphasis. "You make me nervous."

"Did I cut you off or something?"

"What do you mean, boy?"

"Did I cut in front of you while you were driving? If so, I am sorry."

"Heck, I'm not driving, I can't see well enough to drive anymore.
My daughter is driving me back up to Virginia."

I was baffled. "I thought you said I made you nervous."

"I did. You do. Zipping around like a crazy person, ripping down the road like
a crazy man in that little yellow sports car of yours. Stop it. Stop it now!"

I pointed at the black Cadillac Seville I was driving. "Sir, this is the car I'm driving today."

"Huh? You say what?" The old fellow was genuinely perplexed.

"I don't know who you saw driving a yellow sports car, but it wasn't me."

The old Gent's confusion dissolved, and quickly turned into rage. "Listen boy, no one likes a smart ass! You got me?" He poked me with the cane once more, and then limped away proudly.

I got back in the car and continued headed north. I guess I need to have more respect for Bikers. And wear a bullet proof vest in case I get attacked by a cane again.