THE MAGIC CHRISTMAS TREE

Christmas Eve found me in Dallas, Texas this year, home of the Dallas Cowboys.  The friends I have in Dallas were out of town for the holidays so I got a motel room to stay in after I delivered the 2018 Chevy Malibu.

The drop off address was less than two miles from the motel, so I decided to walk back after the customer signed off on his new car.  It was a brisk and chilly night but it felt good to me.  Got my blood pumping.

I turned a corner and saw a large group of people all staring at something that was just out of my sight.  As I got closer my view became unobscured and I could see a tall Christmas tree floating out on a small lake.  The tree was decked out in lights and ornaments, and seeing it filled my heart with Christmas spirit.  It's the same sensation I get each time I watch IT'S A WONDERFUL LIFE.

"Hey," I heard a voice say to me.  I looked down and saw a short boy looking up at me.  "Isn't it cool?"

"What?"

"The tree, what else?"

"Oh yes, very cool."

"My name is Joey, I'm ten years old and I believe in Santa Claus no matter what the other kids say."

"Good for you.  Keep on believing."

"I will.  Who are you?"

"Bill Thomas, nice to meet you."

"And how old are you, Bill?"  Joey was plenty precocious.

"I'd rather not say, I just met you."

"Come on Bill, don't be shy."

"OK, I am 39."  I actually stopped counting birthdays once I hit 39, just like Jack Benny.

"And do you believe in Santa?"

"I do."

"And do you believe that God's son Jesus was born in a manger?"

"I certainly do."

Joey pointed at the tree.  "See how the tree just hovers over the water?  We don't ask how or why."

"I think it's floating on a raft."

He shook his head.  "No, no, we don't ask how or why.  We just accept."

I nodded.  "Sure."

"I believe in the spirit of Christmas and Santa Claus.  I also believe Jesus was born and came to save us all.  And I believe that magical tree is hovering over the water."

Who was I to argue with a ten year old.  "Keep your faith, it will serve you well."

"Kind of like the Force?"

"What?"

"There's a movie called STAR WARS, and the Force is --"

I cut in.  "I know STAR WARS."

"The Force and faith are not that different."

"You make a good point.  Faith is good," I agreed.

"You're a nice man, Bill.  I hope good things happen for you.  I have faith that they will."

Odd people and kids seem to be drawn to me.  But I feel uneasy talking to a young person I don't know if his parents are not present.  "Where are your mom and dad, Joey?"

"Oh, I don't have any parents.  I'm an orphan."

"Joey!" I heard a woman's voice booming.  She was a large lady who seemed to have no trouble at all plowing through the crowd of people until she reached us.  "Joey, you just can't run off like that.  You have to stay near Mommy."

Joey looked at me as if something had dawned on him.  "Actually, I do have parents."

I smiled.  "I can see that."

Joey's mom looked at me  "What's my boy been telling you?  That he's an orphan?"

"Well, I--"

She didn't wait for me to finish.  "Joey, why do you tell that lie to strangers?"

"I'm incorrigible."

She grabbed his arm to pull him along with her as she mumbled under her breath.  Then she spoke up.  "It's Christmas, boy, what's wrong with you?"

Joey looked at me and pointed to the lake.  "Remember the tree," he called out to me.  "And faith and the Force."

I watched him as they disappeared into the crowd.  I was touched and full of good spirits and good will.  I'm certain that I will never forget Joey and that magic Christmas tree.  Merry Christmas, and may the Force be with you.

IMPEACH TRUMP FOR CHRISTMAS?

After a particularly difficult delivery in Virginia, I rented a car and headed for South Carolina to pick up my next car.  I pulled off at a truck stop in Emporia, and just wanted some quiet time and to collect my thoughts.  I have delivered cars all over the USA, but the holiday season brings huge traffic jams that I have to navigate with no pleasure.

While I was pumping gas into my rental car, I heard a voice say to me  "What did you think of the hearings?"

"Excuse me?"  I looked around to the other side of the pump, and a tall, skinny man was putting gas into his pickup truck.

"The Trump hearings.  You think they'll impeach?  Wait now, where are my manners?  My name is Jed, what's yours?"

"Bill Thomas," I said with a smile.

"I like your smile, Bill Thomas, it almost looks sincere."

"It is."

"You know who's not sincere?  Those crazy guys and gals in Congress.  What in heck do they think they are doing?  You don't mess with the President.  And those Republicans are really after Trump, the Democrats keep on trying to defend him."

I decided not to correct him.  "I don't like talking politics."

"Oh you don't, do you?  Well you had better start paying attention bud, because a new civil war can't be far behind."

"Far behind what?"

"Exactly.  Why do they hate the President so much?"

"Who is they?" I asked.

"The ones who hate the President. Pull your head up out of the sand.  Are you even listening to me?"

"Yes."

"I don't think you are.  Do you know that the root word of impeachment is peach?  How could something so ripe and delicious and juicy also be so evil?"

"An evil peach?"

"No, an evil faction trying to bring down our President."

I shrugged.  "I guess a lot of people don't like him."

"Well that's just too bad, he is the President and that's that.  He is honest and sincere and compassionate. Congress is on a witch hunt trying to bring him down just cuz."

"Just cuz why?"

"Just cuz cuz.  There is no reason for it, no quid pro quo, no read my lips.  But you don't seem to care."

"I do care."

"Then stop your silence and speak your opinion.  Free speech is a promise to you from the Declaration of Independence, and my motto is give me liberty or give me a gun."

I finished filling up with gas, and hung the nozzle back onto the pump.  "I guess you have to stand up for whoever you voted for."

"What's that supposed to mean?"  Jed seemed pretty upset with me all of the sudden.

"You are clearly a Trump supporter, so you--"

"Trump?  Are you kidding me?  I voted for Bernie Sanders.  Free school for everyone forever!"

I climbed into my car and left without saying goodbye.  Politics make strange bedfellows, and inspire strange people at a gas pump at a truck stop.

PLEASE PASS THE GRAVY

After dropping off a Ford Flex near San Antonio, I got a call from my anything but cordial boss Riff.  :"What's going on, loser?"

"Happy Thanksgiving to you, Riff."

"What did you just call me?"

"Nothing, I was wishing you a happy turkey day."

"Well it ain't today."

"No, it's tomorrow, I'm a day early."

"Can you just shut up and listen to me?" he growled.

"Sure, what do you need?"

"It's the customer who needs you to pick up a car in Las Cruces, New Mexico then drive it to Malibu beach."

"Oh, California."

"No, Malibu in Japan!  Got another driver headed to Phoenix, he's gonna stop and pick you up then drop you in Las Cruces."

"Who is the driver?" I asked.

"Andy, my most reliable driver."  I had engaged with Andy in the past and he was anything but reliable.  He was a paranoid pill-popping maniac who refused to shower as long as he was on the road.

"Oh please not Andy."

"You should follow his example, he's an excellent driver.  I gave him your drop off address, he should be there soon."  I heard a horn honking and turned to see a car coming fast directly towards me.  It jumped the curb and I dove over a hedge to avoid getting hit.

"I'm looking for Bill," I heard a voice say.

I rose up to look over the hedge and saw Andy in a late model Ford Thunderbird.  "It's me, I'm Bill.  You know me, Andy."                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                     
"Well I don't know you, but you'd better hop in the train is leaving for New Mexico.  Get in the back seat, the front seats are my office."  I was happy to oblige, so I got in with my backpack and before I could close the door behind me he burned rubber taking off.

I could smell his rancid body odor permeated the car's interior.  "Ya know, Interstate 10 is a breeze from San Antonio to El Paso.  It's so remote that the speed limit is 85mph."

Andy stared at me in the rear view mirror.  "Are you a new driver?"

This surprised me.  "Andy, it's me, Bill Thomas."

"Is that supposed to mean something to me?"  He lit a cigarette.

"We have worked together four times.  Uh, I don't think we're supposed to smoke in client's cars."

Andy turned his head and shot me a warning glance.  "I don't know you, pal, but I need to smoke when I'm taking speed.  They just go hand in hand."

"You're taking speed?"

"None of your damn business."  Andy pulled onto Interstate 10 and put the gas pedal to the floor.  "You know why I get all the best delivery runs?  Because I don't stop to sleep or shower.  It's a big waste of time.  You look like the kind of pansy who showers every day."

"I do."

Andy cackled.  "Sucker!  Hey I just realized that its Thanksgiving tomorrow, and I sure do like gravy all over everything.   My Aunt Bessie made the best biscuits and gravy, bet you didn't know that."

"I did know that because you've told me before several times."

"Don't believe we've ever met."

I scooted over to the left side of the back seat and leaned my head against the window.  Andy kept on talking, but I was so tired I went right to sleep.  I must have slept for several hours.

I woke up very groggy and looked out my window.  There was a car next to us, and the passengers were screaming and pointing frantically.  Feeling disoriented, I looked to the front and saw that Andy had moved to the passenger seat and was napping.  No one was in the driver's seat.

Wait, what??

I understood immediately why the car next to us was full of people waving at us and shouting.  I slid over in my seat to the right and could see that Andy's left hand was discreetly on the bottom of the steering wheel, and his left leg straddled over the center console and his foot rested near the brake pedal.

"Andy!" I yelled.

"Shh!"  He replied.  "I'm playing possum."

"But why?"

"Shh, you're gonna blow it."  I looked over at the car on our left, and the look of desperation on the faces of those in the car.  Without warning, Andy suddenly veered to the right onto an exit ramp and left the car full of worried people behind.  He pulled into a big truck stop, and got out of the car laughing.

I was furious as I climbed out of the car and grabbed my backpack.  "You think this is funny?"

"You have to admit, that was hilarious."  He lit another cigarette.

"Are you nuts?"  That's wasn't funny at all!"

"Did you see the look on those faces?  That was dope!"

"They were terrified."

Andy wheezed as he laughed.  "I just love screwing with people.  Don't you?"

"No sir," I said, taking my backpack and heading inside.

"Where are you going, fat boy?"

"Hope you have a Happy Thanksgiving, hope you live to see it."

"Don't be mad, you should be shaking while you laugh like a bowl full of jelly."

"I will find another ride to Las Cruces."

Once inside, I discovered that the Greyhound bus would stop here in 8 hours and take me where I was going.  I hated to wait and I hate riding Greyhound, but anything was a better alternative than riding with a lunatic.

On Thanksgiving this year, I am thankful that I did not die in the car.with Andy.  I said a prayer that he would be safe, but also prayed for all the potential victims that shared the highway with crazy Andy.

RAINBOW BRIDGE

It was a beautiful day in Miami when I delivered a Ford Expedition to a man at his office downtown.  My old friend John Hazzard had invite me to meet him for lunch.  He said to come to the courthouse downtown and if I arrived early enough I could come into the court and watch him in action.

I got to the courthouse and had to find the room where John was trying his case.  I entered quietly and sat in the back row.  An elderly bald man sat in the witness box, and John was cross examining him.

"So tell us about that morning, Mr. Roosevelt."

The man scratched his head.  "It was a sunny morning, hot and humid at 7am already.  The sky was blue and--"

John interrupted.  "I was referring to what happened between you and Mr. Jackson."

"Well now, Bojangles Jackson is my dog, just a tiny little Sitt-choo.  You must be talkin' 'bout Shorty Jackson, my ex-best friend."

"What occurred between you and Mr. Jackson?"

"Shorty or Bojangles?"

"Let's stick to humans.  Shorty in this case."

"It was a warm Saturday morning, and he came by to go fishing like always.  I was cooking bacon in the frying pan, just like always.  You got to cook the bacon first so you can cook the eggs after in the bacon grease."

"How long were you cooking bacon?" asked John.

"Shoot, I been cooking bacon for 65 years, since I was 10 years old."

The opposing counsel stood up.  "Your honor, can we please stick to the facts?"

But the witness cut him off.  "Oh no you don't, that question is an elephant."

The Judge let out a slightly bemused sigh.  "Mr. Roosevelt, I think you mean irrelevant, but it is not, and you don't get to say that."

Mr. Roosevelt looked outraged.  "I'm a citizen of North America.  The Decoration of Invocation gives me the right to free speech."

John jumped in to keep things rolling.  "You were having a peaceful morning, and then what went wrong?"

"Shorty took a bite of my bacon and said it was undercooked.  He's been disrespecting my bacon for many, many years.  So I did the only thing I could, I smacked him upside the head with my iron skillet.  Shorty fell off the chair, and there was Bojangles underneath him."

"But what do you know about the stab wound in his chest?"

"That had nothing to do with the bacon," explained Mr. Roosevelt.  "I stabbed him in the chest for sending Bojangles to the rainbow bridge."

"Rainbow bridge?" asked John.

"You don't know the rainbow bridge?  It's where dogs go when..."  He drifted.

"When what?"

"I don't want to say."

The Judge leaned over and said, "Sir, the court can compel you to answer the question."

"Ain't no compelling to it.  Shorty is a big man, way over 350 pounds.  When he sat on little ole Bojangles, why he sent him to the rainbow bridge.  So naturally, I stabbed Shorty in the chest with my sharpest chopping knife."

"So it was a sharp knife?" asked John for emphasis.

The witness looked confused.  "I didn't believe a dull knife would do the job.  And I wanted Shorty Jackson dead at that point."

"And so Shorty joined Bojangles on the rainbow bridge?"

Mr. Roosevelt stared at John like he was talking crazy.  "A man don't go to the rainbow bridge, it's just for dogs."

The Judge smiled. "And cats?"

"I object to that!" shouted the witness.

With great patience the Judge told him, "You don't get to do that, sir."

"I know where Shorty Jackson is, he's dancing a jig with the Devil around a lake of fire."

"Because you killed him?" asked John.

He shrugged.  "Guess so.  If the iron skillet didn't do it, I'm sure the knife in his chest did the trick.  But it was self-defense."

"How was it self-defense?"

"Shorty murdered Bojangles, so I had to kill Shorty.  That's called self-defense."

John was finished and the Judge called for a lunch recess with closing arguments that afternoon.  John greeted me, cheerfully as usual.  "What did you think of my case?"

"Interesting," I said.  "But are you acting as prosecutor?"

"No Bill, this is a civil trial not criminal.  That will be a separate trial with another lawyer.  This is all about insurance, property and money."

"And the rainbow bridge, I guess that's where dogs go when they die?"

"My reply to that is what any good attorney would say -- who cares?"

CLICHED IDIOMS

The summer of 2019 has been a brutal one.  The heat has been oppressive and most folks are pretty miserable.  Now being from Alabama, I'm no stranger to heat and humidity.  But I drive cars to locations all over the lower 48, and even northern states have been unseasonably hot.

That was true on this day in late August, when I drove a Ford Focus into Grand Rapids, Michigan.  The customer had asked me to deliver to him at a movie theatre near his home.  His name was Sam Peterson, and I drove to the front of the theatre where I saw a man waving eagerly at me.  I parked and got out of the car.  "Hi, I'm Bill Thomas.  Are you Mr. Peterson?"

"Yes, that's me, sure as I'm sitting here."  He was standing and very enthusiastic.  "Just enjoying this beautiful day.  It's the quiet before the calm."

"I have your new company car here."

"For me?"  He seemed to be overreacting more than a little bit.

"Yes sir, you're going to love it."

"Now don't jump the rifle, boy.  I'll have to drive it a while before I love it.  Only time will lie."

"I assure you it's a good car."

"Company cars are a quarter a dozen."

"So you don't like them?"

He shrugged.  "Eight one way, half dozen the other."

"Do you enjoy driving at all?"

"Once in a green moon."

"Green?"

"Now a green car would have been great," he told me.  I looked sadly at his red car.  "Let's not beat around the proverbial Mulberry tree.  Just be a man, bang the bullet, and tell me what you have to say."

I was confused.  "About what?"

He patted his ample beer gut with open palm and said, "I'm ready for anything, I'm fit as a cello and ready for fun."

"I'm not sure I follow you."

"All you have to do is follow, and I will lead you on a wonderful adventure.  It's a story as old as the valleys."

"Valleys?"

"Valley of the happy green giant.  But don't fret Bill, every cloud has a creamy center."

"I just need you to sign this paperwork--"

He quickly interrupted.  "What?  No!  Why?"  He was quite agitated.

"Mr. Peterson, I just need --"

"I'm Sam Peterson," came another voice from behind me.  I turned and saw a younger, well-dressed man walking towards me.

"You are Mr. Peterson?" I asked.

The man who was not Sam Peterson said, "Well, speak of the angel, and an angel appears."

"Excuse me?" asked a baffled Sam.

"Hi sir, I'm Bill Thomas and this is your car."

The mystery man who was not Sam said, "Wait, you gave me the car and now you're taking it away?  There's a name for people like you, but I can't recall it."  He reached out his hand to shake Sam's.  "Hello stranger, how in the world have you been?"

Sam's eyes pleaded with me for context within the confusion.  "What is happening, Bill?  Who is this guy?"

Mystery guy grinned and said, "Sam Peterson, good to meet you."

Sam flinched.  "But I'm Sam Peterson."

Mystery guy took off a shoe and banged it on the car bumper.  Sam and I both yelled "Hey!" at the same time.

"That's it!  Mystery guy shouted.  "That's the straw that broke the Arabian knights!"  He began giggling in a very odd way.  "Oh well, when things go wrong, just start over.  Back to the old Etch-a-Sketch.  This morning I was talking to my psychiatrist in the mental ward, then I climbed out a window, and then a guy tries to give me a car but takes it back.  Just like in The Lion King, it's the circle of squares."

"The what?" asked Sam.

I tried to ignore the mystery guy and tend to my customer.  But Mr. Mystery had one more comment to make.  "What's my name, you ask?"

"No one asked," said Sam.

"From one Sam to another, I strongly suggest you take everything this man says with a pound of salt."  He was pointing directly at me.  "Now if you gents will excuse me, I have a lunch date with a duck."  He turned on his heel and sashayed away.

Sam stared at me.  "Who was that?"

"No idea," I said.  "I categorize folks like that as Bill's people."

"Bill's people?  You're Bill."

"Yes, and Bill's people are God's own oddballs who always find me anywhere, everywhere."

Sam smiled.  Lucky you."  He signed the paperwork   I left and headed for the nearby Avis location to rent a car to my next pick up in Louisville, Kentucky.  I thought a lot about Mr. Mystery, and hoped he would make it back to the hospital before dark.

DEATH IN EL PASO

It is Saturday, August 3 and I was driving a Cadillac to El Paso just this morning.  I was looking forward to seeing my good friend Pete who I had known for 20 years but had not seen in 5.  He is quite simply one of the best guys I have ever known.

If you read my stories, you should know that they are true but I always change the names to protect the innocent.  Whether I'm writing about a good friend or an eccentric oddball I meet in my daily travels, I make up fictional names so no one is embarrassed or doesn't appreciate any limelight.  Pete is just such a guy, and that is not his name, but today we'll agree to call him Pete.

When he was only a boy, his family moved from Juarez, Mexico to El Paso, just across the border.  Pete became an American citizen through the proper channels, and as a teenager began volunteering at reitrement homes to assist the elderly.  He worked a full time job while in middle school and high school, but still got good grades.  In college, he found a passion for helping immigrants to legally become citizens the way things were meant to be.  He counseled and discouraged people who wanted to come illegally from Mexico because he truly hated to see friends get caught and deported.  He joined the National Guard and spent a few years in Afghanistan.

Pete also was very involved with his church, and did everything he could to help get members to Sunday service when they had no transportation.  He used to work with the Big Brother's program, and went to orphanages to entertain by telling dumb yet funny jokes and play the guitar.  He was no Eddie Van Halen, but he was gifted and sang with so much heart.

Heart is the core of this good man.  When we first met, I was at the lowest point in my life, having lost my mother and brother in a car accident.  Our meeting was by chance, but he was actually able to distract me from my woes and got me back on a positive track.  He has inspired me to try to show kindness wherever I go and try to spread smiles around.  Pete will be the first to admit he ain't no saint, he likes his football rough and his beer cold.  We all have faults, but somehow his are super easy to overlook because he is so thoughtful and generous.

Earlier today, Pete took the youth group from his church to a Wal Mart in El Paso.  A shooter came in and began killing and wounding people randomly. It was a senseless, horrible nightmare and any life taken is one too many.  I know there are millions of people just like me out there who were praying or searching for answers.  But there is no answer, this and all the other recent shootings have no rhyme or reason, there is just a lot of hatred and wickedness and uber-crazy folks out there.

I am writing this on Saturday night upstairs in Pete's guest room.  He is downstairs getting a lot of love and hugs from his family, who are so thankful he survived.  When the shooting began, Pete took charge and firmly instructed the kids to follow him.  They got out a door in the back, thank God.  I send my own personal love and hope to all of the people who were impacted by the El Paso shooting.  But I am also thankful for Pete, who got those kids out safely so they grow up and have full lives.  We really need more good, caring selfless people like Pete in the world.  God bless us all.

SNAKES ON THE BRAIN

I drove through a thunderstorm on my way to Columbia, SC.  I was going to deliver a slightly used Ford Explorer to a woman named Miss McDougal.  She sounded very high strung on the phone, but I was hoping for a quick and simple delivery drop.

The rain was letting up as I pulled into her short driveway just past 12 noon.  I got out of the car, and a lady came running out the front door waving her hands in the air. "Miss McDougal?" I asked.

"Snakes!  Snakes!" shouted the redheaded woman.

"Snakes?"  I was puzzled.

"Snakes in my house!  Right now!"

"Did you call someone to come get it out?"

"No, I was counting on you to help me.  You are Bill Thomas?"

"Yes I am, but I'm here to deliver--"

She interrupted me by grabbing my arm and tugging me into the house with her.  "I think it may be a rattler."

I stopped short.  "A rattlesnake?"

She pulled me even harder to get me moving.  "I have complete confidence in your abilities.  Hurry now, I'm afraid that snake may kill my dog Brutus."  She led me down a hall to a room with the door open, with a doggie gate in the doorway.  I saw Brutus, a Papillon dog, bouncing around playfully with his tail wagging.  "Oh look, poor Brutus is terrified!"

"Um, where's the snake?" I asked.

"That huge monster is going to destroy Brutus."

And that is when I saw the small black snake with a yellow stripe.  Poor Brutus looked less threatened and more playful with his new snake toy.  "OK, this shouldn't be a problem."

"Pick it up, for pity's sake. Save Brutus!" she shrieked.

I realized this was going to be a problem after all.  I like snakes almost as much as Indiana Jones does.  While I felt certain that the snake posed no threat, I wasn't crazy about the idea of picking it up with my bare hands.  "Do you have a pair of tongs?"

"Tongs?  No.  Wait a minute... yes!"

"Can you get them please?"

"Yes I will, but first I want you to get rid of that snake," she said.

"I need the tongs to get the job done," I explained.

She went from distress to hilarious disbelief in two seconds flat.  "Do you intend to cook the snake?"

"No ma'am, bring me the tongs and I'll show you."

She looked upset at me and bowed to me low and deep.  "Yes, your majesty, whatever you say."  She had suddenly developed a bad attitude aimed directly at me.  After going into the kitchen, she returned carrying the tongs with an air of grandeur.  "Here are the blessed tongs you requested, my lord."

I chose to ignore her sarcasm and took the tongs so I could grab the snake and pick it up.  Brutus seemed disappointed to lose his new plaything.  I went to the front door and tossed the snake gently onto the grassy yard.  Then I turned back to Miss McDougal and asked her to sign for the car.  She did so quickly and I said "Thank you."

"Oh listen, before you leave I have a real rat problem down in my basement."  Rats are my biggest fear, because of a serious childhood traumatic event that had to do with being punished by my mom.  "I need you to go down there and catch them just like you did with the snakes."

I waved at her and said, "Goodbye Miss McDougal."  I picked up my bag and started to walk towards a nearby city bus stop.

"Don't you dare leave before your job is completed.  I want those nasty rats out of my house, pronto!"  But I was at peace as I walked down the sidewalk, for I felt I had done my job and just a little bit extra.

TOO DRUNK TO FALL

It was a bright, sunshiny day in Colorado as I was headed to deliver a brand new Toyota Sienna minivan to just outside of Cheyenne, Wyoming.  There was a new skydiving school that was waiting on their new minivan, which I had driven all the way from Atlanta.

I planned to arrive early when they opened so I could accept the ride they had kindly offered me.  This driving day had started at 5am, and I was tired already as I pulled into the entrance of Skippy's Skydiving.  It was way out in the country, and I felt especially lucky that I was getting a lift to the transportation hub of Cheyenne.

There was a long driveway winding up to the hangar where the skydiving office was.  As I came around the side of the building, I saw a man, a woman and a Pastor wearing the white collar.  The man and woman stumbled about aimlessly, as the Pastor flipped through his Bible.  The man was wearing a tall Cat in the Hat red and white hat, and had no shirt on.  He wore empty ammo belts across his chest, not unlike Chewbacca in STAR WARS.  And there were Ugg boots on his feet.  The woman had on short shorts and a tube top, and her belly proclaimed her tenth month of pregnancy.  She wore fuzzy purple house slippers on her feet.  I had to wonder what they were doing here, but decided to mind my own business.

Inside the office, I was greeted with effervescent enthusiasm by the owner himself.  "Are you Skippy?" I asked him.

"Nope, Skippy is my son, I named my company after him.  My handle is Skipper," he said as he marched up and gave me a hearty handshake.  "You must be Bill Thomas."

"Yes sir, I must."

He patted me on the back.  "So, where's my minivan?"

Just at that moment, the man and woman outside opened the door forcibly and loudly and practically fell in through the doorway.  "We are here!" the man shouted.

"I see that," said Skipper with severe hesitation.

"I am Jocko, and this little lady is my one and only, Deedee.  We are here to jump out of a plane and get married."

Skipper watched them, sizing them both up.  "Yes, I got the 30 messages you left on my answer machine last night."

"Nobody would answer the damn phone so I kept on calling."

"Yeah well, you two are not jumping out of a plane."

"That sounds like a challenge to me!" shouted Jocko.

"Not a challenge, just a fact.  You are drunk and you're not going up."

"How dare you call us drunk, you don't even know me, us, me."

"I don't need to know you to know you're sloshed.  I could tell on your phone messages."

"You got no kind of good business acumenization!"

"You're wasted."

"Just what are you inseminating?  That we are too drunk to jump?"

"No, you are too drunk to fall."

"Look, I'm a grown ass man, no one body tells me what I can't and can't do."

Deedee spoke up.  "Mister, we wasn't gonna jump out alone, we was gonna hook up and skydive
tandem with your guys."

"When you are drunk, you are unpredictable, and could be a danger to my men."

Jocko was getting mad.  "You can't tell us what to do.  We had a few drinks overnight and decided we had to get married now, and we were gonna jump out of a plane first.  We got a preacher outside who is gonna marry us up as soon as we land."

"You're not jumping out of my plane."

"Make me!" screamed Jocko.  "I'd like to see you make me.  I'm a grown ass man and I do what I want to when I want to.  I pity the man who gets in my way."

Skipper walked me over to the door, and indicated for Jocko and Deedee to exit with him so he could lock up.  He was clearly the only one working there this early, but was being nice enough to close and give me a ride that would be an hour round trip for him.  As Skipper was looking over the minivan, the Pastor walked up to me.  "Hello, I'm Pastor Bob."

"Hello Pastor, I'm Bill Thomas."  We shook hands.  "I'm on the road a lot driving around the country.  You think you could throw some prayers my way?"

"Oh, gladly.  But right now, I'm a little confused as to why I'm here.  I got an emergency call during the night telling me that a couple had to get married at this address first thing in the morning.  I did not know untill I arrived that they planned to jump out of a plane first."

"I don't think that's going to happen," I said.

"No?"

Jocko walked up.  "Well, bad news Pastor Bill, we can't jump out of the plane."

"I'm Pastor Bob."

"I'm Bill," I offered.

"Who asked you?" snarled Jocko.  "So go ahead and marry us, Padre."

Pastor Bob smiled.  "OK, who has the marriage license?"

"The who?" asked Jocko.

"Marriage license.  You need it to get married."

"We can get it later, so go ahead," demanded Deedee.

"No, I'm sorry, it doesn't work that way," explained Pastor Bob.

Deedee was very angry.  "Look, I'm a grown ass woman, and if I want to get married dammit I'm gonna do it.  It's not like I haven't been married before."

"You were married and then divorced?" asked the Pastor.

"No, I didn't divorce Leroy, I just left his sorry ass."

"Then you are still married, and I can't perform the ceremony."

Jocko began walking in wide circles and cussing like a sailor.  Deedee began to plead with Pastor Bob. "I just got to get married, can't you see that?"

Pastor Bob looked sympathetic.  "I understand your situation.  When are you due?"

"Due to what?"

"To give birth?"

Deedee threw her head back and cackled.  "I ain't pregnant!  I just got a little beer belly."

Skipper motioned for me to come to the minivan, and as I stepped over to him, Jocko came up and grabbed me by the shoulder.  "Hey you!" he yelled at me.  "You've been awful quiet, I'd like to hear your opinion on all these goings ons."

"I don't have an opinion."  I turned to keep walking and Skipper walked towards me.

Jocko grabbed me again.  "Don't you turn your back on me!"  In an amazing fluid motion, Skipper used his leg to sweep Jocko's legs out from under him.  He fell hard onto his back, then began moaning,  "Baby, baby, I'm hurting."  Deedee rushed to his side.

Skipper and I climbed into the minivan.  "Thanks for the save, Skipper."

"He was getting way too aggressive so I had to put him on the ground.  Did I tell you I run a Karate school at night?"  We laughed and talked for the half hour ride into Cheyenne.  I found myself hoping that Jocko and Deedee would someday find their bliss.

THE SILVER CROSS

"And another thing!" shouted my boss Riff over the cell phone.  "You need to start making better time in delivering cars."

"I've never been late, not once," I protested.

"Oh ha ha ha, very funny.  That's about as funny as a marshmallow cookie laced with rat poison."

"Call you back once I have delivered, Riff."  I hung up before he could say more.  I knew it was all crap he was saying, but his words and his tone affected me much more than usual.  It was my birthday last week, and the only call I got was from my Cousin Chris.  For a guy who has over 100 good friends nationwide and sees most of them several times per year, I felt very forgotten.

But I am growing older, and find that my friends who had kids now also have grandkids, so no time for Bill Thomas.  Normally I would think of this as a pity party, but I know myself well enough by now to realize that I chose not to get married and have kids.  So as I age more, less folks have time to spend with me.  It recently led me to a dark place in my mind that I've been trying to climb out of.  Cousin Chris suggested that I talk to someone about it, but also said I can always speak to God.

I have prayed hard every single day that God would guide me, lead me on the right path, and show me the way.  Now I grew up going to church every Sunday, but when I got into college I sort of drifted away.  I never stopped believing in God, or that He created us and loves us.  Just feeling so alone and not good at all with getting messages from God.

As I drove to Santa Fe I had made some calls and found that there was a counseling clinic that could take me that very afternoon as a walk-in patient.  The Toyota Camry I was driving was going to a man in Santa Fe, but he couldn't take delivery until tomorrow, so I would have time to get counseling, get dinner, get a room.

The sun was burning brutally hot in the New Mexican skies.  I neared Santa Fe and started paying close attention to the audio directions given to me by the GPS.  Traffic got very bad, as it was the beginning of rush hour.  Every city has a rush hour.  But today it was getting on my nerves more than usual to have people cut me off then slam on their brakes.  Or forcing me to stop suddenly because they are coming into my lane beside me.

I found the counseling center and went inside.  I felt like I was about to start crying, and it takes a lot to make me cry.  When I got to the Doctor's office door, I opened the door only to find a strange woman on the other side of the door fighting with the doorknob.  She came along with the door as I opened it.

Spreading my arm out to gallantly offer her the road, I said  "I've got the door for you, ladies first."

"What exactly do you mean?  That since I'm a woman I can't open doors for myself?  You only want doors in this world so that you can lock women away and live in your misogynistic chauvinistic world.  Am I right?"
She spit at my feet and stormed off, so I guess she had some issues she was working through.

I walked up to the reception desk.  A bright and perky young lady smiled and said,  "Welcome, I'm Corky and how can I help you today?"

"My name is Bill Thomas, I called ahead and was told to come in."

"OK, now are you a regular patient?"

"No, I'm just passing through town."

"How long have you lived in Santa Fe?"

I shook my head.  "No, I don't live here, I'm just visiting."

She looked perplexed.  "You are a resident of the state of New Mexico, aren't you?"

"No ma'am--"

"Please do not call me ma'am."

"Sure, well I'm really down and needed to talk to someone."

"We are all down and we all need someone to talk to. Unfortunately, this is not that place.  At least not for you."

"Why?"

"Don't be silly, you know why.  You are not a resident of this state, and you don't have an appointment."

"The lady on the phone said that y'all would take me as a walk-in."

"Are you pulling my lariat?  No one here would tell you something like that.  Now I have an opening one week from today..."

"I won't be here then."

"Where will you be?"

"Driving somewhere in the USA."

She scratched her head with her pen.  "Gee, that's a little vague.  Sorry honey, guess you'll just have to suck it up and try to move forward."

I stared at her slack jawed.  "That's your psychological advice for me?"

"Gosh no, I'm no psychiatric.  Sugar, I barely made it out of high school.  Good luck to you."

As I walked away from her desk, I was feeling defeated and forlorn.  My legs wobbled and I felt dizzy headed.  I decided to sit in the waiting room for a second before going back out into the intense heat.  My cheeks felt warm and I felt a tear rolling down my face.  I closed my eyes and said a prayer, trying like crazy to hang onto my faith.

Ten minutes later, I got up and walked out the door.  I felt a strong hand grab my shoulder from behind.  I spun around expecting trouble, but it was an elderly hispanic gentleman.  "Hold out your hand."

"Beg pardon?"

He took my hand and I allowed him to guide it to where he wanted it, hand open palm up.  He held his closed fist over my hand then opened it.  A silver cross on a chain fell out of his hand and into mine.  He smiled sweetly at me and said  "God is watching over you.  He's got you."  And then he walked away.

I felt like an enormous weight was lifted off my shoulders.  I felt  more free and joyful and alive than I have in months.  Because I came to see that even when things seem rough, I am never alone.  If there is such a thing as receiving a sign from God, I feel like I just got one.

FLAMING GIRAFFES

It was New Years Eve and I was headed to Florida to see good friends.  I had picked up a car in Beaumont, Texas that was headed to Daytona Beach, so my friend's beach house was not really out of my way.  It was just west of Mexico Beach, where a hurricane had all but wiped out that little town in the fall.  My buddy Chase has a real nice beach house, though I had only seen pictures.  And my good buddy Frank was coming down from Birmingham to meet us. Any excuse to go down to the coast of the Florida panhandle was good enough for Frank.

Chase had sent me a text with his address on it.  I entered it into my phone's GPS and got directions while I was still headed east through Alabama.  When I got off on Interstate 10 in Florida, I headed down a two lane highway towards 98, the coastal highway.  I knew all of the directions so far by past trips to Destin and Fort Walton but as I neared 98 I was not sure where to go next.  It was 5:30pm and I knew that Happy hour had started.  I wanted to get there in time for the big seafood fest I knew they'd be cooking.  When I consulted my phone, it was dead.  Not only could I not retrieve directions, but I had his address exclusively in my phone text, so I was basically clueless.

I turned right and drove for ten slow miles.  The speed limit was 55, but most vehicles were big trucks pulling boats or construction equipment and doing 40mph.  After ten miles, I turned around and headed the other direction.  Fifteen miles beyond where I had turned onto 98, there was a small town called Carrabelle.  The fifteen mile stretch had nothing but houses, which were a ways off from the highway.  So when I passed a bar in this little town, I guessed I better stop and charge my phone.

It was 6:45 when I walked into the bar, and was getting dark out.  I looked all over the place for an outlet to plug into but none were to be found.  I walked up to the bartender and asked her if she had an outlet I could plug into.  "It'll cost you a beer," she said, promptly opening a Busch and setting it in front of me.  I handed her my cell phone with the charger plugged in, and she plugged the other end into an outlet behind the extremely cluttered bar.

I walked over and leaned on the railing over `the water.  It was truly beautiful, I have always loved the Gulf coast of Florida and was soaking it all in.  And then I felt a peck on my back, and spun around to find a large green parrot standing on the table right behind me.  "Hello," said the bird.

The owner of the parrot was a large, burly, crusty old salt.  "That's Janie, she wants to see if you have a cracker for her."  I patted my pockets like I was looking for a cracker, then shrugged.  The man pointed at a bowl on the table full of packets of saltine crackers.  I reached over and picked one up, opened it, then looked at the man.

"May I give her one?" I asked.

"Well Janie is waiting on you."  I held the cracker near Janie, and she grabbed it in her beak and moved it with her claws.  "By the way, my handle is Teddy, but everyone calls me Skipper.  Watch your step around here."

"OK I will."

"Carrabelle can be a dangerous place if you don't watch out.  I gotta pee."  He got up from the table and left.  I walked down the railing to the other end, where a man stood shucking oysters to send to the bar or tables.

"Howdy," I said.  He said nothing.  "Are the oysters any good?"

"I sure wouldn't eat them."

"Why?"

"They are nasty," he exclaimed.

"Really?"  I love raw oysters with lots of horse radish in my sauce, and had never heard a man shucking being so critically blunt about his oysters.

"They aren't the good ones from Apalachicola, they are from New Orleans.  And they are all nasty."  Then he shut down and was completely silent again.  I sipped my beer for five minutes, and then he said "Giraffes."

"Beg pardon?"

"Giraffes," he repeated.

"What about them?"

"Watch out.  A giraffe escaped from the local zoo, and is running free down around these parts.  Also tigers and bears and elephants."

The closest zoo that I knew of was in Tallahassee, but I couldn't imagine that all of those animals traveled this far away on their own steam.  Plus this guy didn't seem too credible.  I told him my situation and how I was trying to find my friend Chase.

"I know him."

"You know Chase?"

"Yep."  He gave me the address on highway 98, and I looked at my watch and saw it was 7:15.  That would have been plenty of time for my phone to charge, so I went to the bartender and she handed me back the phone and charger.  I hopped in the car and drove down the fifteen miles watching the mailboxes for an address.  Sometimes they were hard to see, because of monster size piles of debris along the side of the road that had been collected from the mess the hurricane left.

It was the very last house on the left before you reached a long stretch of bare beach with no houses.  The owner was in the front yard, and his name was Chase, but he wasn't my friend and he didn't know him.  I had hit the power button on my phone but had no reason to look at it yet.  When I did, I saw it still had no power.  I drove back very slowly to Carrabelle looking in every driveway for my friends' cars.  But again, this was difficult with the houses so far off the road and the pitch black night with a canopy of trees on either side of the highway.

When I got back to the bar, I found the manager and explained I needed to charge the phone.  He said he didn't know why it didn't charge behind the bar, but let me sit in the corner of the kitchen next to an outlet and charge my phone.  If I would buy a beer.  It only took twenty minutes to realize that my phone wasn't taking the charge so I was high and dry.

I should mention that I'm a lightweight and can't drink on an empty stomach.  It upsets my tummy and gives me a buzz.  So I was driving in the dark, only knowing that the house was somewhere on this fifteen mile stretch.  I want up and back that fifteen miles almost a dozen times.  By 11:45, I was starving and sweating and feeling desperate and dizzy.  I would look at each and every driveway but never saw either of their cars.  Addresses on the mailbox meant nothing at this point.and I had no idea where I was going.

And then a flaming giraffe ran across the road in front of me.  I've hallucinated before, but it was never so realistic and vivid.  I could actually feel the heat as I past it running down the side of the highway.  And that is when I saw what looked exactly like Chase's boat in front of a house.  I had seen lots of pictures of it on Facebook.  As I pulled slowly down the long driveway, I saw two cars but they were not Chase or Frank's.  I parked next to them and walked around the house on stilts.  I looked up at the two levels above, and saw no lights on in the windows.  This could not be the place, because I knew for sure that Frank and Chase would be up partying on New Years Eve.

In desperation, I walked a circle around the house shouting their names.  When I got to the front of the house, I heard a shout back to me from the back of the house facing the beach.  I ran to see if it was someone who could help me find them.  I looked up at the balcony on the third story and saw a figure in the shadows.  "Bill, is that you?"

"Chase?  Oh thank God its you, Chase."

"Meet me at the front door I will let you in."  When I got to the door, Chase and Frank were both there.

Frank greeted me with a headlock and noogies on my head.  "Bill!  Billy boy!  Can you bake a cherry pie, Billy boy?"

"I can bake a cherry pie, then I'll spit right in your eye."

"Where have you been buddy, we've been so worried."

"I couldn't find the place.  It's a really long story.  I didn't know the address so I was looking for your cars."

"I guess we both have new cars since you saw us last." replied Chase.  "We tried to call and text you a lot."

"My phone is broken.  So I had no address, no directions and no way to contact you.  But it's New Years eve, why were the lights out?."

"We gave up on you and went to bed two hours ago," Chase explained.

"On New Years eve?  Seriously?"

"There's no girls here, Bill."

"Yeah," agreed Frank.  "It's not a party without girls."  Frank is always the bartender, and immediately walked to the bar to mix us all a drink.  "You did get here just in time to toast the New Year with us.  And tell us your latest Driving Fool story, which sounds like it was tonight."

Chase patted me on the shoulder.  "Bill, did you see anyone burning those big piles of debris left on the side of the highway?  I can actually feel the heat in my car when I pass them."

And then it dawned on me.  I had only partially been imagining things. "Oh, that would explain the flaming giraffe."

"The what?" asked Frank as he put my drink in front of me.

Chase was also confused.  "You met a gay giraffe?  This oughta be good."