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.

WAITING FOR THE BOSS

I had to meet a guy in Cleveland to pick up his car. He was moving to south Texas, and I was moving his company car down so that he was free to drive a U-haul truck and tow his wife's car. His name was Jody, and he was a friendly fellow.

We walked around his car in a parking lot where he had designated for us to meet. I was doing my condition report, marking down scratches, dents, etc. He was following me and watching closely. When I was done, I held out the clipboard with my paperwork to him. "OK Jody, if you will just sign here I'll be on my way."

"What? No, Bill, I can't do that."

"I don't understand, what's the problem?"

"My boss wants to see the car."

"Jody, signing this simply means that you handed me the keys, and you agree that the car is in the condition I have listed here."

"Oh sure, sure, I get that. Only my boss... well, you know how he is."

"Honestly, I don't. I've been doing this job for a while, and I've never had anyone's boss have to sign off on a car. I assure you it is not necessary."

"Right, but then we're talking about Eddie. And you know Eddie!"

"No, I don't believe we have met. But if he needs to sign off on it, that's fine with me. Where is Eddie?"

"At his motel, asleep."

"Uh, well Jody, I do have to get on down the road."

"Bill, I promise, this won't take long at all."

One hour later, we were still standing in the parking lot waiting. Jody had called his boss twice by this time, and he kept getting lame excuses from the man. I was beginning to feel frustrated, but kept it inside because I didn't wish to be rude to the customer. After all, this wasn't Jody's fault.

"Jody," I said, "didn't you tell me that you spent the last three days with your boss at a conference?"

"Yes, that's right, down in Columbus."

"Did he see the car there?"

"Oh you bet he did. I was driving him around in it."

"Well then... I'm confused. If he just saw it, why does he need to see it again before I can leave?"

"He wants to see it with you. Together. You know Eddie, he's all about togetherness." I still did not understand why Jody seemed so sure that I knew Eddie and his personality traits. I had never met the man. Jody's cell phone rang, and he talked to Eddie again for a few minutes. Then he hung up and smiled at me. "Good news. Eddie is 40 miles from here and wants us to meet him halfway."

"That is good news."

"So, hop in the car and I'll drive you to the rendezvous point."

"Let's go." And go we did, about one half hour on the Interstate highway towards Canton, Ohio. We stopped in a large hotel parking lot and stood around. For another hour. And then Eddie drove up, talking on the phone in his car. I walked over towards his car, and Jody gently grabbed my arm.

"What are you doing, Bill?"

"Making a beeline for Eddie, so he can sign off on this and I can get going."

"But can't you see, Eddie is on the phone. He hates to be interrupted when he is on his cell phone. I mean he hates it!"

So I waited until he got off the phone. Eddie climbed out of the car and Jody started talking to him. He basically ignored Jody, and walked right over to me. "Hey kid," said Eddie, "whadaya say, whadaya know?"

I smiled. "Not much."

Eddie doubled over laughing much too hard. "Not much! Did you hear that Jody? He said not much."

Jody nodded enthusiastically. "I heard. Eddie, this is Bill the driver."

Eddie got very close to me, face to face. "Hey, what's that?" he asked, pointing at a spot on my shirt just below my chest. When I looked down, Eddie brought his finger up and flicked the end of my nose. "Ha ha, gotcha! I got you good!" His cell phone rang, and Eddie answered it and walked away from me.

Jody looked very happy. "I think he likes you. That's a very good sign."

"I'm glad that he likes me, but that doesn't factor into my job. I just made the mistake of engaging in small talk with him. Next time he's off the phone, I'm just going to hand him the clipboard and ask for him to sign. I'm already running two hours late."

Jody seemed defeated. "I know, and it is all my fault. How can you ever forgive me?"

I shook my head. "There is nothing to forgive. I just have to take care of business here."

Ten minutes later, Eddie hung up the phone. One second later, I was in his space handing him the clipboard. "Hey, hey!" yelled Eddie. "What's this, what's your rush? Explain yourself!"

"I just need for you to sign here and I'll be out of your hair."

"Out of my hair? In case you haven't noticed, I don't have much hair left." I glanced and could see that he was balding and his remaining hair was thinning out. "I love hair. And I love people who love hair, and have hair, and jump rope with hair. Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your long hair!" He cackled with laughter. "No, but seriously, we have to go over this car inch by inch before I let you take it."

I held the paperwork out for him to examine. "As you can see, I've already done a condition report."

Eddie turned to Jody, referring to me. "Jody, where did you find this guy? I love this guy! I want him around me for the rest of my natural life! I want to make babies with this man. Now give me that paperwork, you big lovable so and so." Eddie snatched the paperwork from me and began walking slowly around the car.

I pointed towards an obvious deep scratch. "I mark down things like this one right here..."

"Shhh!" interrupted Eddie. "I'm in the zone."

"He likes zones," offered Jody.

"Shut up, Jody, I'll tell you when its time to speak." Eddie walked over and looked at the scratch I had pointed out, then reviewed the paperwork. "What is this?"

"A scratch, I marked it right there."

Eddie made a silly face and shook his head back and forth. "No, no, that's not a scratch. Watch this." Eddie took a handkerchief out of his pocket and spit generously on it. Then he took the handkerchief and rubbed very hard on the scratch, as if he could make it disappear. "A little bit of spit and elbow grease will take out any scratch or dent. The point is, we're not going to be responsible for any scratches or dents."

I grinned. "Eddie, you will not be held accountable. The point of me writing this stuff down is to protect both you and me. It shows what condition the car was when I picked it up, and what it was when I delivered it."

Eddie furrowed his brow. "But how can I live with this? You wrote that there is a deep dent on the right side front door."

I responded by walking around the car and pointing to the spot. "Right here."

"No, no," said Eddie, shaking his head as he walked up. He spit twice into the handkerchief and began to rub very vigorously. "This will come out in no time, lickety-split. Say Bill, what do you say to a one-legged hitchhiker?"

"Uh, I don't know."

"Hop in. Get it? One leg? Hop? Get it?"

"Yes, I do get it."

"I got a million more, I'm warning you."

"Thanks for the warning."

Eddie began to pretend to pummel me in the stomach with his fists. He didn't ever hit me, just kept pretending to let a barrage of punches fly at me. "I love this guy, Jody."

"I know you do," replied Jody.

"We have to hire him to come work for us."

I was intrigued. "That sounds interesting, tell me more."

Eddie seemed taken aback. "Now listen, you crazy kid. Don't start getting too big for your britches, that's a quality I can do without. Wait to be asked, don't be so pushy, or else you will push others away. See my point?"

Honestly, I did not see his point at all. "Anything else you need to see before we sign the paperwork?"

"Hold your horses, hot rod! You are one anxious Andrew! What we used to call in the Army an eager beaver. Ever heard that one?"

"Yes."

"Yes what?"

"Yes, I've heard of eager beaver."

"What did you hear about him?" Eddie bent over laughing, and slapped me on the back. Then he winked at me as if we had shared a valuable secret. "Well, I guess I can sign just as soon as you amend the paperwork."

"Amend it?"

"Yes, please, right now."

"How?"

"Just get rid of what you wrote down."

"Can I borrow your handkerchief?"

"Oh, so you're a smart ass? I like that, I like that a lot. You could learn a lot from Bill here, Jody."

Jody stood fully erect. "I would welcome the opportunity anytime."

"Shut up, Jody," said Eddie. "Bill, have you ever been in a towel popping contest?"

"What?"

"You know, in a school gym, a good old fashioned popping towels on your buddies' bare asses towel popping contest."

"No."

"Never? I find that hard to believe. In fact, I think you are just being shrewd and playing your cards close to the chest. Am I right?"

"Nope."

"I would love to get into a towel popping contest with you just to see who is the better man."

There was a pause. "Ready to sign?" I asked.

Eddie giggled. "Bill, you are a freakin' broken record with that stuff. OK, OK, I will sign, is that gonna make you happy?" Eddie signed, and I reached for the paperwork. He yanked it away from me and held it up high. "What do you say? What's the magic word?"

"Please and thank you," I told him.

"Ding, ding, ding, you get bonus points for Thank You, we were only looking for Please." Eddie handed me both copies, and I gave one of them back to him. "Safe travels, Bill. And a friendly professional tip for you, try hard to be more punctual, its bad business to be late."

"I'll remember that."

"See that you do."

"Bye Bill, see you in Texas."

"Shut up, Jody," said Eddie with an air of exasperation.

I learned an important lesson from this experience, one that I will never forget. Spit and a handkerchief can make any problem just go away.

SILENCE IS GOLDEN

I was trying my best to deliver a car to a woman in Wichita, Kansas the other day. I had been calling her, and she kept on switching the delivery time. She finally decided she did not want it at all on the day we agreed upon, but that the next day would be better. And she laid it all out for me when she called my cell phone late in the day.

"You'll just have to come in the morning. Can you make that happen?" she asked.

"Yes ma'am, absolutely," I said. "What time do you want me there, Miss Cooper?"

"8:15 on the button. I need you to be prompt."

"I will be."

"But hey, listen, I have a conference call meeting at 8am, so you can't say a word when you come to my house to drop off the car."

"OK, I won't."

"You don't seem to understand. You cannot utter a single syllable. You must remain completely mum."

"That's not a problem. I will knock on your door--"

"Softly!"

"Yes, very softly. And I will hand you the keys, show you where to sign, and give you a copy of the paperwork. Then I'll be gone like the wind."

"Slow down now, cowboy. Don't be in such a rush, I'd like to come out and look over the car before you just fly away."

"Not a problem."

"But while I'm doing it, you cannot talk. Not a word."

"I'll be quiet as a mouse, Miss Cooper."

"You must! It is imperative."

"Understood."

"Really? Do you? Because it is so important that you do. This is my job we are talking about, I have important business to conduct and can't have an interruption."

"That's fine."

"Please don't be so dismissive, I need a full commitment from you. You must keep your mouth firmly shut. You must not speak."

"I won't."

"No, no, you CAN'T! Do you see what I'm saying?"

"Yes I do. See you at 8:15 tomorrow morn."

The next morning, I got to her house a little early, so I drove on by and parked down the block. When it was 8:14am, I drove back to the house and parked in the driveway. I walked to the front door and knocked very softly. She quickly opened the door, holding her house phone in one hand and a digital clock in the other hand. The clock read 8:17, and she pointed to it and waggled her finger at me. She put the clock down and put a finger up to her lips. I could hear voices coming from the phone, as she had it on Speaker mode.

"Where's the keys?" she whispered. I handed her both sets of keys. She gave me a look like I was the dumbest guy on the face of the earth. I waved her outside, and silently showed her the car. "The car is blue? Why is it blue? I hate the color blue!" I just shrugged. She looked inside. "And the interior is black. Why black? Do you know how miserable that will be on a hot summer day?" She looked at the car and shook her head in disgust, and her voice level raised a couple of notches. "And its a sedan, I wanted a minivan. Would that have been too much to ask? A minivan?" I shrugged.

Now normally, I would find something polite and perhaps comforting to say. But I had been told to keep my mouth shut, and that is what I was doing.

"I'm very unhappy. How do you feel about that?" Once again I shrugged. "Have you nothing to say?" I shook my head no. "Aren't you supposed to please your customer?" I nodded yes. "Why are you not responding to me, you must be the most rude man in the world." I made a gesture of turning a key in a lock on my mouth and tossing away the key. "Well now, don't be ridiculous, no one said you couldn't communicate with me. I insist that you say something!"

"What would you like me to say?"

She seemed surprised. "Oh, you actually spoke. I was beginning to think that you were mute. I will sign for this car, but I want it on record that I'm not a happy customer."

"OK."

She signed the paperwork, and I handed her a copy of it. "You have a way out of here?"

"Yes, it's all arranged."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm walking to the city bus stop nine blocks from here."

"Really? That's a long way. But I'm not giving you a ride."

"I understand."

"I want to be very clear, I can not and will not give you a ride."

"And I don't expect you to."

"You are just a little too good to be true. I'd like you to leave now."

And so I did, very quietly.

JUST TEXT ME

I took a car to deliver to a woman in Mobile, Alabama this week. She had a rental car which she needed to drop off, so she instructed me to meet her at the rental agency rather than at her home. I was more than glad to do what was necessary to meet her needs.

The night before the delivery, she called me to be sure I would be there. "Hello Bill, this is Patty. Now I need you there at 8am sharp."

"That's no problem," I told her. "I have to catch a city bus that goes by at 8:30 and the next one doesn't come for several hours, so I'll be there waiting for you."

"I need you to be there at 8."

"Yes ma'am, I'll be there at 7:55."

"Not 7:55, I want you there at 8 sharp."

This had a familiar ring, a customer who is a stickler. "No worries, I'll be there right on time."

"8 sharp."

"Yes, absolutely."

The next morning I got up early and drove over to the rental car agency. I was an hour early, so I found a Diner nearby and went in for breakfast. A healthy bowl of oatmeal, which I find to be a great way to start my day.

I was standing outside at 7:50 looking for her to arrive. 8am sharp came and went. By 8:20 I was beginning to worry, so I called her cell phone.

"Yes, what is it?" she answered.

"Hi, it's Bill Thomas, your friendly driver. Wondering if you were still coming."

"I already told you I was going to be a half hour late."

"Last time we spoke, you said you'd be here at 8 sharp."

"That was last night, I sent you a text this morning very early telling you 8:30."

"I don't get texts."

"You... you don't get texts? How can you not get texts?"

"I'm here waiting for you, still hoping to catch that bus that comes by at 8:30am."

"Well, that can't be my problem. I am a busy working woman, and I don't have time for your nonsense. I'll be there soon." She abruptly hung up.

I stood with my fingers tightly crossed that she would show up before the bus did. When a car pulled into the lot with a woman driving, I could only hope it was Patty. I had all of the paperwork ready for her to sign so I could quickly exit stage right. Then I saw the bus go by, and I held out my hands towards it in sad acceptance.

"Looks like you missed your bus," Patty said as she climbed out of her car.

"I guess so," I said, and offered her the keys to her new car.

"I didn't understand how you could have missed the message I texted to you this morning."

"My phone isn't set up to get texts."

"How can that possibly be? How can anyone not get texts?"

"It's an old phone."

"But how do you survive without texting? For that matter, how could anyone in the modern world today go without texting? That's unthinkable!"

"My phone plan doesn't include texting."

"But how do you get text messages?"

"I don't."

"What if someone needs to reach you?"

"They can call me."

"What if they don't want to call you, no one calls anymore, everyone texts."

"Not me."

"I can't begin to fathom that. That is such an antiquated notion."

"I do OK."

"You must be some kind of dinosaur, using a phone. I mean that is as old fashioned as a Model-T car. You have to join the world the rest of us live in."

"I have the paperwork for your car here, if you can just sign for it."

She looked at the Toyota Camry I had driven. "Is it a piece of crap?"

"What? No, not at all, it's a very nice car, and in great shape."

"If you say so, but I'd rather have a Lexxus."

"This is the car they gave me to bring you."

She shook her head as she signed the papers. "I still can't get over you not texting. You're not pulling my leg, are you?"

"Nope. No texting."

"But that is so pathetic. How do you live with yourself?"

"It's fine, I promise you."

"It can't be fine. What if you need to reach someone?"

"I call them."

"What if they don't answer the phone?"

"I leave a message."

"What if they don't like to check messages?"

"Well, that's on them. At that point, I've done my due dilligence, and if they don't like to answer their phone or check their messages, I can't be responsible."

"Or, you could just learn to text like a normal human being. I literally could not survive without texting. If I'm running late driving somewhere, I can text them to say I'm late."

"You text while you drive?" I asked.

"Sure, everyone does. Don't you dare judge me."

I nodded, took the paperwork, picked up my bag, and began the very long walk to the train station. "Have a nice day," I called out.

"You need to get texting capability right away!" she shouted.

The next day, I was delivering a car in Port Charlotte, Florida. A teenage girl slammed her car into mine, ripping the entire front end of my car off, and I had to be taken to the hospital. She was texting as she drove.

HAPPY EASTER SUNDAY

I was driving a big cargo van up to Cheyenne, Wyoming on Easter Sunday. The vehicle was in pretty bad shape, beat up and rusted out. The man who gave me the keys to it in Tucson said to never let it get below 1/4 of a tank, because the needle would just drop from 1/4 to EMPTY in a flash, and you'd be stalled out right then and there. The man also explained that the radio was broken, but that the cassette player worked. But there was tape jammed in the machine, and so it was the only thing I'd be able to listen to.

As I started my 995 mile trip, I turned on the cassette hoping it might be a George Strait tape. No such luck. It was a singer named Jimmy Buffett, who I've heard of but never listened to much. My old friend Smokey hates Buffett with a passion, which always made me curious. I listened to songs about Cheeseburgers in Paradise, Fins to the left and Fins to the right, when a Volcano is gonna blow, and a mystical place called Margaritaville. It wasn't half bad, I liked the sunny disposition of the songs and the singer.

I felt sort of sad that I had no one to spend Easter with. No one to have a big Easter dinner with, big portions of ham and beans and potato salad just like when I was a kid. I was also getting down with thoughts of helping my fellow man, but feeling like I'm alone in doing so. I know when we do a kindness for someone else it's not for reward, but I'd just like to think there are other folks out there in the world who also wish to help simply because its the right thing to do. Oh well.

It was late in the afternoon, and I was listening to the tape for maybe the tenth time in a row. I suddenly noticed that the fuel gauge was at 1/4, and wondered how it got there so quick without me noticing. I started to pray for a gas station to come up soon, as I was in a very rural stretch of road just north of Denver. I saw a sign that said "GAS - 5 MILES AHEAD". I sighed with relief, and then the gas needle dropped down to "E". "No, no, please, I'm so close," I pleaded to the van. Moments later, the van sputtered and came to a dead stop. There were no two ways about it, I was stuck.

I climbed out of the van and knew that the only solution was to walk five miles to the gas station, buy a small container for gas, and walk back to pour it in. I locked up the van and walked about twenty steps before the rain started coming down hard. Then I heard a motor headed my way. Not from the highway, which was nearly deserted, but from a field off the highway. It was an ATV carrying a Farmer, and he was carrying something in his lap. As they drew closer, I could see it was a little girl in his lap, and they were really flying across the field.

I waved as they got near, and the Farmer stopped at the barbed wire fence. "Howdy," he shouted at me.

"Hi," I said as I walked toward the fence.

"You got car trouble?"

"Out of gas. This van has a defective fuel gauge."

"It's always something, isn't it? They get you one way or the other."

"How far to the nearest gas station? Sign says five miles."

"Don't worry about it, I'll help you out. Meet me down at the end of the fence." He took off on the ATV, and I ran along my side of the fence until I reached the end of it. At that point, there were some steps, making it fairly easy to climb over. "I thought it would be easier for you to get over down here."

"You're right about that, thanks."

"Hop on the back there and hang on." The Farmer indicated a wide board on the back of the ATV, and I sat on it facing backwards. He took off, and we had a relatively wild ride across the fields with the rain still coming down hard. There were numerous bumps that made me go flying up, but my hands had a death grip on the board so I wasn't going too far.

When he pulled up to the farmhouse where he lived, we slowed down a bit. He drove around back, and there was a big red barn. Another ATV came driving out of the barn, with a boy driving it that could not have been more than seven. The girl who had been riding with us looked to be four or five, I assumed they were his children. It was sort of amazing, kind of wholesome, and even a little bizarre to see such a small boy so expertly piloting this big ATV. With a rifle propped up next to him.

"Shelly, go get this man a mug of your mother's hot coffee from the kitchen," the Farmer said to the little girl.

"That's not necessary," I said, but Shelly was gone.

"Ain't necessary, but its the right thing to do. You're our guest." He turned his attention to the boy. "Jimmy, did you check out the west field?"

"Yes sir. I saw that old wolf slinking around out there."

"What'd you do?"

"I shot him dead, Daddy!"

"That's my boy!"

"I'm gonna go check the back nine now." Jimmy revved up his ATV and took off.

The Farmer patted me on the back. "Let's get you some gas, pardner."

"Your boy sure does drive that ATV like a pro."

"That's my Jimmy, I'm awful proud of him. He's growing into a fine young man."

"I can see that." The Farmer went into the barn and I stood in the doorway to avoid the rain. After a few minutes, Shelly came out and handed me a big thermos and a brown paper bag stuffed with something. "Thank you very much," I said, and she giggled and ran off.

"That's my girl, Shelly," the Farmer said as he came out of the barn with a ten gallon container of gas.

"I think she brought me more than a mug of coffee."

The Farmer smiled. "Well sure. I imagine that Sally, she's my wife, she probably packed you a couple of ham sandwiches and a big hunk of her pound cake."

I was very much taken aback. "That's incredibly generous."

The Farmer shook his head. "Nothing to it. Just trying to be friendly."

"Extremely friendly, and I am so grateful."

The Farmer walked over to his "dualie" pickup truck and I followed. "You might want to hold those thank yous til we see if we can get that van of yours started. We'll take my truck back over." He put the gas container in the bed of the truck, then we climbed in the cab and took off.

When we got back to the fence, I hopped out and started to climb over the barbed wire. The Farmer laughed and said, "What you trying to do there, buddy?"

"Trying to get back to my van."

"You're gonna get your clothes and yourself all torn up there. Step back." The Farmer put the palm of his right hand on one of the fence posts, then in one swift motion threw his legs and himself over the fence, landing smoothly on the other side. "Now hand me that gas container."

"Sure," I said, lifting it over the fence, still impressed by the agility it took to hop over that fence.

"Why don't you go ahead and drive my truck down to the end of the fence. I'll try to get your van started then meet you down there."

I did as I was told, and watched from a distance as the Farmer poured the gas into the van, then got behind the wheel and started it. The van came rolling slowly down the shoulder of the highway. I reached into my wallet and pulled out a $20 and a $10, which should cover the gas. Though it didn't seem nearly enough to compensate the Farmer for his time and the inconvenience.

As I climbed the steps over the fence, the Farmer walked up and said, "You're good to go, pardner. You better stop at the next exit and fill up."

"I sure will."

"I left the van on, the engine is idling."

"I can't tell you how much I appreciate it."

"Don't worry about it, glad I could help out."

I handed him the $30. "Hope this will cover it."

The Farmer held up his hands. "No sir, I don't want your money."

"After all you did for me, I at least have to pay you back for the gas."

"No you don't. But I'll tell you what you can do. Sometime when you see someone in trouble, stop and give them a hand."

I felt a warmth rush through my entire body. "I will. You can count on it. Listen, I just have to tell you, I try to be good and kind to everyone I meet. But... well, the fact is, I'm not used to getting it back in return. It's nice."

"It is, isn't it? Believe me when I tell you, it was my pleasure."

I stuck my hand out to shake. "By the way, my name is Bill."

The Farmer smiled and shook my hand. "Well what do you know? My name is Bill, too."

This renewed my faith in the golden rule. There really is goodness and kindness in the world. And I will keep on driving and looking for it. Helping others where I can, and maybe receiving help sometimes in return -- just when you least expect it.

THE KARMA POLICE

Yesterday, I was driving a car into St. Louis to make another delivery. It was pouring rain, and I was trying very hard to find a branch of my bank so I could deposit my check and get some cash. I had found the directions on Mapquest, but was finding it difficult to follow them in this torrential downpour.

Just a few blocks before I reached the bank, a Camaro turned from a side street right in front of me and crept along at 5mph. Now I know it’s a good idea to slow down when the roads are slick, but this was ridiculous. When the left turn lane opened up, I steered into it quickly. About the time I was side by side with the Camaro, it decided to cut over across the striped median into the left turn lane where I was. I honked to alert the driver that I was there and they were about to hit me, and the car slammed on its brakes.

When I got into the parking lot, I found a spot as close as possible to the door. I had to run for it, yet still I got drenched. I saw a woman running up as I opened the door, so I decided to be polite and hold the door for her. She stopped in front of me and pointed her finger in my face. “I hate you!”

“Beg pardon?”

“I hate you, and all people like you. But what goes around comes around, you cut me off and now I’m going to cut you off and get into the building first. HA!” She ran in before me.

“What exactly are you talking about?”

“You know what you did, don’t act so surprised.”

“I’m honestly confused.”

“Don’t play dumb. Karma is going to descend on you and bite you in the butt.”

“Can you tell me what I did wrong?”

“You cut me and my Camaro off when I tried to get into the left lane.”

“Excuse me, but you almost hit me, and came across the painted striped median to do it.”

“Shut up! I don’t want to hear any more of your lies! I hate people who drive Toyotas like you.”

“I am driving a Ford Fusion.”

“Don’t you try to change the subject! You know what you did, and you should be ashamed of yourself.”

“I don’t want any hard feelings here, but—“

“Please just shut your mouth, you’re embarrassing yourself. I’ve got a good mind to slap your face.”

“If I did anything to offend you, then I sincerely apologize. I’m all for peace and harmony on the highways.”

“You are a sick, twisted man. And I’ve heard just about enough from you.”

“But—“ She interrupted me by raising her hands over her head and lifting one foot high in the air. I thought perhaps she was attempting a bizarre martial arts move. In fact, it sort of reminded me of the ‘Crane’ move from the original KARATE KID movie. She held her foot precariously close to my face.

“Talk to the foot,” she said.

I was truly baffled. “What?”

She put her foot down and became very emotional. “People like you just think you own the world, that you’re king of the universe. You make me want to vomit. I don’t talk to people like you. Now go away and leave me the hell alone!” She stormed off and went down the hall into the bank. I gave her a good head start, and then went into the bank myself and stood at the counter to fill out my deposit slip. She was standing at a Teller Window, yammering on about the mean SOB who had cut her off and then spoken to her disrespectfully out in the hall.

I tried to lay low, but as she was walking out she saw me. She reached into her purse and pulled out a whistle, and began blowing it loudly. “Karma police, karma police! There’s a bad driver here who needs to be taught a lesson.” She leaned in close to me and spoke ominously. “I can promise you that I will never forget you, Mister.”

Oddly enough, I don’t think I’ll ever forget her either.

Carrying A Torch For Karen

Six months ago, I was excited as I drove to deliver a Pontiac to Indianapolis. Because waiting for me there was none other than Karen Robbins, the first love of my life. First girl I ever held hands with, first girl I ever kissed, first girl I ever... well, anyway, I've never fallen out of love with her. And even though I hadn't seen her in 16 years, she still held the key to my heart. I had stayed in touch, and knew she was running a successful Cafe in downtown Indy with a partner.
As I got closer, visions of a lovers reunion danced in my head.

I pulled up to her house late in the afternoon. As I walked up to the front door, my eyes were covered by a pair of hands that crept up from behind. "Guess who?" I heard a familiar voice say. I spun around and hugged Karen, who was still slender and had remained remarkably youthful. Her hair was still shiny blond, and her smile was pure sunshine.

"Hey there, sweet gal. I didn't hear you come up behind me, you are stealthy."

"Yeah, I'm a sneaky little SOB. Boy, its sure is good to see you." She brushed her hand against my cheek. "You made good time if you drove from Virginia today."

"I knew you were waiting on this end, so I was inspired to break the speed limit."

"I've always been your inspiration."

"Yes you have."

"So, you want to come inside, or just stand here in the yard all night?"

"I vote for inside." We walked in and a Golden Retriever came rushing up to meet us. I fell to my knees and began petting her. "Who is this?"

"Bill, meet Lily. Lily, this is Bill. You still love dogs, don't you?"

I nuzzled Lily and said, "Yep, and I always will."

"You want a beer?"

"You bet." I followed her into the kitchen and we both opened a beer. I held mine high and said, "Here's to the most beautiful girl that I ever fell in love with."

We clinked our bottles together, and she laughed. "You're just as corny as ever."

"Yes I am. Wait... did you say corny? I thought you said horny."

"You bastard!" She punched me playfully in the arm. "How was the drive?"

"Mildly boring. How was your day?"

She yawned and set her beer down. "Rough and tough. My partner Cheryl is out of town, so I had to run things alone."

"How's business at the Cafe?"

"I'll open another brew and tell you all about it. Ready for another?"

I gulped down the rest of my beer and belched. "Now I am."

"You are still a nut." We adjourned to the Den, and kept on drinking as we strolled down memory lane together. We talked about our first kiss, where I was scared to death and she finally had to grab me and plant one on my lips just to save time. And the field trip we took to the State Capitol in High school when I tried to make a U-turn on the highway going 55mph and ended up doing a 180. She remembered nearly peeing her pants. And she asked about my Mom, so I told her about the accident and the pain I felt after the funeral over unresolved issues.

After a few hours and a lot of beers, we were both feeling buzzed. I laughed and said, "Do you remember the gift you gave me on my 20th birthday?"

"You mean when I drove 300 miles to steal your virginity?"

"That's the one."

"I rocked your world. Admit it, go ahead, admit it."

"You did, I admit it freely. Can I... would you mind if I asked you
for some insight?"

"Step into my office, lay down. Don't worry, I haven't lost a patient yet."

I laid down across the couch I was sitting on. "OK, Dr. Karen, I feel alone all
the time and need somebody to hold and to love."

"If you want to be showered with love and told how wonderful you are, forget it."

"But I--"

"Shut up, I'm analyzing. You care about people, often too much for your own
good. You try to help people, but often get taken advantage of. And somehow,
nutty folks and crazy situations always seem to find you. I read your Blogs,
I know what I'm talking about here." She got up and walked over to me, sat down on my lap and kissed my forehead. "You're a good soul, Bill." She cradled my face in her hands. "I'm just glad you're here. I wish Cheryl were here, she wanted to meet you."

"Cheryl, that's your partner at the Cafe, right?"

"Right, and my roommate and my lover."

"Oh... Oh! So... now wait, are you saying--"

"I'm gay, Bill."

I was completely flustered. "Oh, yeah, well sure you are. I mean... How's that working out for you?"

"Well, I like it fine, and Cheryl seems to dig it, too."

"I'm sure, of course, I mean why wouldn't she?"

"Are you OK, Bill?"

"Fine, fine, just great. No problem at all."

"What's bothering you?"

"We had sex. It was the best I've ever had."

"I was there, I remember."

"So, did I somehow turn you gay?"

She burst out with laughter. "Honey, it's not always about you. When we were
together, I was in love with you. You were my first and only man. And it was
very special to me."

"Me too. How did I not know this, I feel so stupid."

"How come?"

"I've been thinking about you all these years, then I come here and
fall in love with you all over again. And you're taken."

"I still love you very much. I just took a different path."

"I guess I hoped we'd have the chance to reunite someday."

"We have, right here, tonight. Just not under the sheets. Is that
what you were hoping for?" she asked with a smile.

"No," I answered, a bit embarrassed.

She began poking me playfully. "Is that what you wanted? To wrestle under the
sheets with me?"

"No... Maybe."

She giggled and shook her head. "You're still the same sweet guy I fell for all those years ago. Come on, time for bed." She took me to the guest room, then kissed me on the cheek and said she would see me in the morning.

I laid in bed for an hour, unable to go to sleep. My mind was busy processing all of this new and unexpected information. My heart was tugging at me, because all of my feelings for Karen had resurfaced, and yet... I couldn't help feeling alone, it had been over five years since I had felt the touch of a woman. Sex is great, but I would settle for just someone to hold.

In the darkened room, I heard something moving towards me. "Hello? Is someone there?"

"No," answered Karen.

"OK, Mysterious Voice, I just thought I heard a noise."

"Pay no attention, I'm just sleepwalking." She climbed onto the bed beside me. "Pay no attention at all. This is just a dream. We can cuddle, but no hanky panky. When you wake up tomorrow, you'll forget all about this, like it never happened." I put my arms around her and held her close to me, and was filled with a warm feeling of love and security like I hadn't felt in forever. It was wonderful.

The next day, I seemed to have a vague memory of it all as I drove the Pontiac to deliver it. With a huge grin on my face,I suddenly found myself bursting into song. "Zip a dee doo dah, zip a dee a, my oh my, my ex-girlfriend is gay!"

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."

Census Taking Fool?

After several unhappy incidents recently on my driving job, I thought I might take a break and take a temp job as a Census Taker. The ads were everywhere, and it seemed like it would be an easy job to get.

I went online and found the info I needed to fill out. A few weeks later, I got a call saying that I needed to speak fluent Spanish to do this job, for I might knock on a door where no one in the household speaks English. "So the onus is on me to know how to speak their language, and not on them to be able to speak English in America?" The cheerful Census worker on the phone said, "With Obama comes change."
Whatever that means.

After a few more weeks, I got another call saying I had been hired. I was talking to someone new, and reminded him that I still did not speak Spanish. He didn't know what I was talking about, and said speaking fluent Spanish was only a requirement if you were to be working in a primarily Hispanic area. So I was given my start date, and was told it would begin with one week of training.

I arrived early on my first morning of training at the First Haitian Church of the Emancipated Episcopalian Disciples of the Messiah. It was in the worst part of town, a real ghetto area, and I was a bit concerned about parking my car there. In fact, a rather dicey looking gentleman accosted me outside my car, asking if I'd like to pay him to watch my car and see nothing happened to it. But I had a rental, it was fully insured, so I just thought "Come what may. Screw it, its a rental."

When I walked into the classroom, I was immediately shouted at by the strict, stern, tall and mean woman who would be our trainer. She appeared to be of Mediterranean descent, and had eyes that could burn through the back of your skull. "Why are you here?"

"I'm Bill, I'm here for the Census class."

"Yes, but why are you so early? My class does not begin for 15 more minutes. Did you hear what I said? MY CLASS."

"I just thought..."

"You thought? Tell you what, don't think. OK? Just do as I say and we will all get along just fine. You can start by going outside and wait there til I open the door and invite everyone in."

So I went out and stood in the hot morning sun, and little by little other classmates arrived. I warned them not to go in, but a few of them disregarded my warning. They were met with the same angry admonishments as was I, and they soon joined us back outside. Finally, at one minute til 8am, we were invited in by our teacher, Ms. Suuboco. She led the class with an iron fist, and would take no nonsense and no talking out of turn. I expected her to pull out a ruler and start smacking the back of people's hands, but instead she would just humiliate anyone who dared to defy her. She told us all to get our pencils (which she supplied us) sharpened by the next day. I went to Office Depot, Staples, Office Max, and other places hoping to find an electric pencil sharpener on display. No luck.

The next day, the first thing she said was for us to get out our sharpened pencils. I put mine out, and she immediately saw that they were not ready. "What's the matter, Bill, can't you follow simple instructions? Is it too much for you to sharpen four little pencils? Was that too much of me to ask you? Because clearly all of your classmates accomplished the task." I tried to tell her about all the places I went to sharpen the pencils, and she reached into my supply bag and took out a tiny pink plastic box. "This is a portable pencil sharpener, Bill, and that is what you should have used."

"I've never seen one of these." And that was the truth, I never had! I always used a mechanical pencil in school, the kind you twist to get new lead up. Ms. Suuboco did not believe me, and kept on saying snide remarks about my inability to do a simple task.

"Tell you what Bill, I think you should take your four pencils and your amazing new portable sharpener and go stand in the back corner of the room til you have sharpened them all. What do you think?"

"I think... I don't know what to think."

"Don't try to think, it will give you a headache. Just do as I say, right now."

I felt very embarrassed and a bit humiliated as I dragged back to do as she said. This was the first time I was told to stand in the corner since Kindergarten, though I don't remember feeling quite so ashamed about it back then. I looked out the window and watched cars drive by, and suddenly my driving job started looking really good to me once again. I began to feel the wanderlust surging through me.

After I got back to my seat, Ms. Suuboco started to call on me frequently to answer questions. But before I could even begin to answer, she'd interrupt and say, "Oh never mind, I'm sorry, we went over that material while you were standing in the corner." I felt crushed.

The class continued for the rest of the week. The teacher never let up, but in fact got a lot tougher and nastier. Not much fun at all. Once I got out into the field, I realized just how much most citizens did not want to deal with Census takers. As nice a guy as I am, and as charming as I tried to be, it was all for naught on this job. People didn't see Bill Thomas at their door, they saw The U.S. Government, and many of them threatened me and told me to get off their property quick or else. Each time a car would drive by and I'd feel the slight breeze it left behind brush across my face, I'd remember my life as a Driving Fool. Time to get back on the road again!

WACKY, NUTTY NORA

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

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

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

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

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

“Who are you?” she snapped.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Understood, but–“

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes sir, Bill Thomas.”

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

“You did what?” he asked incredulously.

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

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

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

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

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

“Shut up! I am not crazy!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I'm gonna smash it!”

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

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

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

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

CRAZY JUNE

I continue to be amazed at the surprisingly amount of odd people I meet as I drive around the country delivering cars. More often than not, truth is stranger than fiction.

I was about to deliver a car in Las Vegas, and decided to pull over and find something to eat. As I was walking through a parking lot, I saw a woman stooped over between two cars, and I thought she was ill. "Are you all right, ma'am?"

She stood and pulled her pants up, and I could see that she had been squatting to pee. "Steve, where have you been? I've been looking all over for you."

"Excuse me?"

"No, oh no, you don't have to apologize to me, Steve. Not now, not ever. I love you so much, always have and always will. I never should have left you. We both know that you did me wrong, but I know in your heart that you love me."

"I think you've got me confused with someone else. My name is Bill."

"What the hell are you talking about, Steve? It's me, June, your lover. How are you gonna be treating me like that? After all I've done for you, all the wild sex that we had, all the sexual positions I got into just for you! You can't squeeze me like a piece of ripe fruit then toss me out the window. No sir, it doesn't work like that! Not at all!" And with that, she ran away from me in tears. I decided to shrug it off, and turned and walked in the other direction through the parking lot.

A few seconds later, June popped up from behind a cargo van and said, "Hi lover, I've decided to forgive you. I have to admit you were mean to me, but I can't help loving my man."

"Uh, listen, I think that--"

She put her hand over my mouth. "Hush now, Steve, I only want to hear about how much you love me. Come and whisper into my ear how much you love me." She pulled close and put her ear up to my mouth.

"But really, I--"

Once again, her hand covered my mouth. "Not another word, Steve. I only want to hear sweet sounds coming from your sweet mouth. Come on and dance with me, Steve, dance with me the way you did at the Senior Prom." She wrapped her arms around me and forced both of our bodies to sway. She rested her head on my shoulder and was in a state of bliss as the music played in her head.

I pushed her away after a moment, and told her "No, stop."

"What in the world is the matter with you, Steve?"

"What's the matter is that I don't know you."

"You mean you don't want to know me!" She became enraged. "You dirty son of a bitch. You think you can treat me like some slut, some common whore, then just throw me out on the trash bin? Is that the way you want to play? Well, two can play this game!" She stormed away in a huff, and I made my way more rapidly through the parking lot. I hoped I had seen that last of her.

Suddenly and unexpectedly, she grabbed me from behind and said seductively "Hi Sugar Buns. My white chocolate lover."

I shook my head and sighed. "Lady, please just--"

"I have to respect the man I love. I always make it a rule to respect my elders, whether they're older than me or younger than me. Now shut up and dance with me, do the dance of love!" She began an energetic dance, taking my hands and sort of forcing me to dance along. I was a bit dazed by it all, and hung on for a few moments as she led me in her little Dance of Insanity.

When I pulled away from her, she said "I know now what's wrong with you, Steve. My man needs some good loving." She dug into her huge handbag and began pulling out condoms, handcuffs and various sex toys, enthusiastically trying to hand them off to me. "I know how to treat my man." Then she reached down and took a big handful of my manhood and squeezed.

"Hey! You can't do that, you can't just grab me like that."

"Why not? What's the problem, Steve?"

"Quit calling me Steve. You have mistaken me for someone else, and--"

She interrupted me by giving my face a solid slap. "I am done with you. We are officially over. You are both a bitch and a bastard." She turned on her heel and marched off. Then she stopped and faced me one last time. "And one more thing. I know a lot more about nuclear science than you might think I do." She hurried over to an empty pickup truck, threw her handbag in the back, and sat on the back bumper. She yelled at a non-existent driver "Step on it Raoul, I've got to get to Miami."

I decided to skip the meal and get back into my car and keep on driving. I had nothing against June, but clearly she was a lady whose mind has its own address in another universe. And I remain A Driving Fool.

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.

BAD NEWS IN WEST VIRIGINIA

An old friend asked me to drive his Mom's car up to West Virginia last week.
It was a nice Lincoln Town car, and I agreed to do it for a reduced rate.
He also agreed to buy me a plane ticket back to Florida, and said that I could spend
the night at his Mom's house up in West Virginia.

As I drove along, I noticed that the car was missing.
Which usually means it needs a Tune up.
I had told my friend to be sure that the car was fully serviced
before I took it on this long trip, and he told me it was all taken care of.
But...

Late in the afternoon, the missing turned into jerking and jumping.
When I drove at 70mph on cruise control, everything was just fine.
But in stop and go traffic, it was like a bucking Bronco.
I called the Mom and told her what was going on.

"Yeah," she said, "It will do that sometimes. Is it smoking yet?"

I looked out the rear view mirror, and sure enough there was white smoke billowing
up from the exhaust pipe.
I told her, and she didn't seem at all suprised.

At 4pm, when I was 99 miles south of her house, the car stopped running completely.
The transmission was completely burned out, and I was stuck on the very narrow shoulder of Interstate 77 in West Virginia, on a steep hill and at a curve in the road.

Lucky for me, Mom called her eldest son, and he jumped into action.
He found a tow truck to come and get me, although it took 7 hours for it to arrive.
In the meantime, I was stuck in the middle of nowhere.
And having an upset stomach, with a strong need to go sit in a bathroom.
After a few hours of holding it in, I decided to climb over the guardrail and climb
precariously down the steep hill so as to be out of sight.
I dug my feet into the dirt, dropped my pants and squatted.

Suddenly, the dirt under my left foot gave way, and I fell flat on my butt and start sliding very fast down the hill.
Crapping all the way down.
I was grabbing onto plants and roots and anything I could to try to stop my rapid descent, and every single thing I grabbed was covered with stickers.
It took me a long time to climb back up, and when I arrived at the top I stood up just as a big semi flew by, and the strong gust of wind made me lose my balance and go sliding down the hill again.

The tow truck driver dropped me off at his wrecker yard at 1am.
Mom's eldest son was there and took me to his house, fed me, and gave me a bed to sleep in.
The next morning, he drove me 30 miles to the airport.
Times can be tough on the road, but its good to know that there are kind and caring people out there.