Last month, just before the 4th of July, I was excited to be a few hundred bucks ahead and going home to Birmingham, AL. It had been many months since I'd been back there, and I was feeling really homesick. Even though I lost my home there and my family members moved away, it will always be home in my heart. I knew my old friend Frank would let me stay in his spare bedroom, and I could use a week off to rest.
On my way to deliver a car from Syracuse, NY to Birmingham, I decided to stop off in Columbus, OH and see my old friend Smokey. He's a rock & roll drinking, smoking, always up for a good time fellow. He's a real character who oddly reminds me a lot of my older brother. When my brother Jack died some years ago, it was very hard on me. We had grown apart, and I wanted to reach out to him but he resisted all my attempts. Sometimes I feel like I have a second chance with Smokey.
I called to tell him I was coming, and Smokey said "You're always coming, because you're always spanking. You spank the monkey more than any human on the face of the earth. Get your ass over here, and bring along some thick steaks ya bastard."
I arrived about 6pm, and when I walked into the house Smokey said, "The bar is open, what did you bring?" He puffed a cigarette and tossed back his long flowing blond hair.
I handed him a bottle of Crown Royal, which I know is his favorite. "Oh my stars" he exclaimed. "You shouldn't have, but I'm glad you did." He immediately made us both a cocktail. "So let me guess, you drove here listening to George Strait all the way."
"I don't only listen to his music."
"Yeah you do, Spanky."
"No, I also like Elton John..."
"Lame!"
"...and Billy Joel..."
"Lame!"
"...and the Beatles..."
"So lame!"
"... the Rolling Stones."
"Pathetic."
"Oh, come on, Smokey. The Stones are a classic rock band."
"Hey, I know all about them. Back in the day, I worked as a roadie on one of their tours. They should have kept the music pure, but instead they sold out. Sell outs!"
I reached into the bag and pulled out two thick rib eye steaks. "How do these look for dinner?"
"You dick, you should have told me you had those, they need to go in the fridge."
"I'm pretty hungry, you feel like throwing them on the grill?"
"Yes sir, I'll get to that after I make just one more toddy." And he lit another cigarette and made another drink. I excused myself and went to the bathroom.
As I sat in the bathroom contemplating my day, there was a loud knocking on the door. Smokey shouted out, "Hey, are you spanking in there again?"
"No."
"You sure? Geez, you're chronic."
"No, I promise. Just answering nature's call."
"Get finished with your business, I got another drink made for you."
I joined Smokey again in the kitchen, and he started telling me tales of his life on the road, and his days of playing in a popular Ohio band. After an hour, I asked him again about the steaks, and he said, "I plan to get those coals started, after just one more toddy." And one hour and three drinks later, we had the same conversation. Well, I should say three drinks for him, I was still nursing my second drink, which is all I planned to have.
"Did I ever tell you about the time Joey Ramone of The Ramones taught me to skateboard in Greenwich Village?"
"No, I don't know that story," I lied. It was a great story, and I loved to hear Smokey tell it in his gravelly baritone voice.
One hour later I told him I was getting mighty hungry, and he told me that it was just about time to fire up the grill, "but I think I'll have one more toddy first."
I knew I needed a shower after my long day, and excused myself to his bathroom. When I finished and put on fresh clothes, I came out and smelled him smoking "the peace pipe" as he called it. He was puffing like nobody's business, and when I walked in he said, "Want to smoke some pot with me, Spanky?"
"No thanks, buddy."
"But its the good stuff. Rectified gut buster."
"I'll pass this time."
"Come on, you know you want it."
"What I really want is that steak, maybe with a potato on the side."
"You sound like a broken record. I'll get around to it, it's only 10pm."
I stretched out in his reclining chair. "So how's everything else going?"
He let out a long sigh. "Not so good, actually. Um... I lost my job three weeks ago, and things are a little bit lean. I don't mind too much, but its the holiday season, the anniversary of the birth of our nation. You know how I get around the holidays."
"Yes I do."
"I miss my mom a lot."
"I miss mine, too."
"Yeah, but you weren't close with your mom like I was with mine."
"True. My mom wasn't too fond of me, that's for sure. Still, I miss her
since she passed."
"Kinda makes you feel alone sometimes, doesn't it?"
"Yep, it really does. But, life goes on."
"And you go on, rolling down the highway."
"The life of a driving fool."
"You are a driving fool, you sonuvabitch!"
"Indeed I am."
"Bill, I thank you for bringing me the Crown Royal and the steaks. Things have been tough, and I don't even have enough to pay my power bill this month. They'll cut my power on Monday. But that's my problem, its my cross to bear, it just worries me."
"Believe me, bud, I know how it is. I can barely keep my head above water, but I do my best."
"You're a brave little bastard, Spanky. I'm gonna make you the best steak you've ever eaten tonight, just as soon as I make us one more toddy. And then I'm gonna tell you all about the new band I'm putting together. It's named after my favorite movie." Smokey took another long hit on his pipe and got up to amble into the kitchen. I could see my brother Jack doing the same thing a hundred times before.
We ate at 1am in the morning, and I stayed up talking to Smokey til 3am. He started watching TV Land and his head began nodding and bobbing, so I went and crashed on the couch. I wanted to get up and get an early start for my drive to Birmingham.
At 6am, I awoke very groggy but splashed some ice cold water onto my water onto my face and drank two cups of coffee. Before I left, I went and slipped a folded note onto Smokey's bedside table. I wrote on it, "I love you, brother" and stuck $100 inside.
Saturday, August 7, 2010
Sunday, August 1, 2010
MORNING DELIVERY TO TAMPA
I have been running all over the state of Florida the past two weeks, dropping off cars here and there.
A few days ago, I had an assignment to drive a car to a man in Tampa.
I called him the day before to see what time of morning he'd like me to arrive.
"Early," he told me. "Very, very early. Is that a problem for you, Bill?"
"Oh, no sir. But just how early would you like me."
"7am. Not 7:01, not 7:02, but 7am."
"No problem sir, I can be there at 6:55am."
"Not 6:55, not 6:59, but 7 sharp. Are we clear on that?"
"Very clear, sir."
So, I got up extremely early so that I could drive to the far Northwest
side of Tampa, and got to his neighborhood 5 minutes early. It was a gray
and overcast morning. I parked down the street out of sight, for I didn't
want to arrive one second too early. Or too late for that matter.
When I pulled into the driveway at 7am, he walked out into the yard.
He stopped short, and put his hands on his hips and shook his head
with disgust. "No, no, no."
"Good morning sir, here is your new company car."
"And I'm supposed to live with this? You expect me to just accept this? "
"It's a nice car, I just drove it here from Orlando."
"Says you. Come here, look at this." He pointed out a tiny scratch on
the front bumper, and another one on the rear bumper. "I'm supposed
to drive a car like this?"
"I did note those marks on my condition report."
"I don't give a damn about your condition report. I have to drive a car
around town with nasty scratches on it. How do you think that makes me feel?
What do you suppose people will say?"
I shrugged, unsure what to say.
He pointed into the back seat, where somehow a single small brown leaf
had flown in and rested on the seat. "Look, the seats are filthy. They're
covered with leaves." I picked up the single leaf and tossed it out. "And
how am I supposed to fit my kid's car seats back here, there's so little
leg room?" While I said nothing, what I was thinking was 'your company
does not provide you a car to drive your kids around in.'
Right at this moment, his wife came out to the car. You could say that she had
a bit of an attitude. Or a chip the size of Texas on her shoulder. When she looked into the car, she said to her husband
"This is totally unacceptable, tell the boy to take it back."
"What's wrong, ma'am?" I asked.
"I was speaking to my husband, not to you. But since you ask, this has a single CD player in it. We prefer a 6-loader."
I had visions of a recent encounter with a woman named Nora, and only hoped that this
woman wouldn't produce a baseball bat. "I'm sorry sir, but this is the car your company gave me to bring to you."
The man shook his head. "And you just do as you're told. How do you look yourself in the mirror each day? You ought to be ashamed of yourself, treating decent people this way."
"Do you want the car?" I asked.
He reluctantly signed for it, just as raindrops began to fall. I grabbed my bag, and he asked me, "How are you getting out of here?"
"I'm catching a bus at the corner of Linebaugh and Montezuma."
The rain began to fall hard. "That's a mile and a half away from here. I'd start running if I were you."
By the time I got to the bus stop, I was soaking wet. But the rain sort of washed away the bad taste this ungrateful man left in my mouth.
A few days ago, I had an assignment to drive a car to a man in Tampa.
I called him the day before to see what time of morning he'd like me to arrive.
"Early," he told me. "Very, very early. Is that a problem for you, Bill?"
"Oh, no sir. But just how early would you like me."
"7am. Not 7:01, not 7:02, but 7am."
"No problem sir, I can be there at 6:55am."
"Not 6:55, not 6:59, but 7 sharp. Are we clear on that?"
"Very clear, sir."
So, I got up extremely early so that I could drive to the far Northwest
side of Tampa, and got to his neighborhood 5 minutes early. It was a gray
and overcast morning. I parked down the street out of sight, for I didn't
want to arrive one second too early. Or too late for that matter.
When I pulled into the driveway at 7am, he walked out into the yard.
He stopped short, and put his hands on his hips and shook his head
with disgust. "No, no, no."
"Good morning sir, here is your new company car."
"And I'm supposed to live with this? You expect me to just accept this? "
"It's a nice car, I just drove it here from Orlando."
"Says you. Come here, look at this." He pointed out a tiny scratch on
the front bumper, and another one on the rear bumper. "I'm supposed
to drive a car like this?"
"I did note those marks on my condition report."
"I don't give a damn about your condition report. I have to drive a car
around town with nasty scratches on it. How do you think that makes me feel?
What do you suppose people will say?"
I shrugged, unsure what to say.
He pointed into the back seat, where somehow a single small brown leaf
had flown in and rested on the seat. "Look, the seats are filthy. They're
covered with leaves." I picked up the single leaf and tossed it out. "And
how am I supposed to fit my kid's car seats back here, there's so little
leg room?" While I said nothing, what I was thinking was 'your company
does not provide you a car to drive your kids around in.'
Right at this moment, his wife came out to the car. You could say that she had
a bit of an attitude. Or a chip the size of Texas on her shoulder. When she looked into the car, she said to her husband
"This is totally unacceptable, tell the boy to take it back."
"What's wrong, ma'am?" I asked.
"I was speaking to my husband, not to you. But since you ask, this has a single CD player in it. We prefer a 6-loader."
I had visions of a recent encounter with a woman named Nora, and only hoped that this
woman wouldn't produce a baseball bat. "I'm sorry sir, but this is the car your company gave me to bring to you."
The man shook his head. "And you just do as you're told. How do you look yourself in the mirror each day? You ought to be ashamed of yourself, treating decent people this way."
"Do you want the car?" I asked.
He reluctantly signed for it, just as raindrops began to fall. I grabbed my bag, and he asked me, "How are you getting out of here?"
"I'm catching a bus at the corner of Linebaugh and Montezuma."
The rain began to fall hard. "That's a mile and a half away from here. I'd start running if I were you."
By the time I got to the bus stop, I was soaking wet. But the rain sort of washed away the bad taste this ungrateful man left in my mouth.
Monday, July 26, 2010
ODE TO JC
As I travel around the USA I can always count on meeting a lot of strange and unusual people. But there are also the good and kind people, the interesting and intriguing folks who I get to know who really make my days brighter. And there is no more of a bright and shining star than JC Cramer.
Oddly enough, we met on the Internet. JC is a lady who read my blogs and became fascinated by A DRIVING FOOL. She was generous with her comments, such as "You are one helluva good guy Bill. When that guy got into your face, I would have been throwing punches, but you just roll with them. There's some good karma to be learned from you." I read this and all of her other comments, and I thought that THIS LADY GETS ME. So I wrote to her, and she wrote to me, and for the first time in my life I had made a real, true friend without actually meeting face to face.
Next thing you know we became friends by phone, and she wanted to keep up with all of my travels. I began to learn that she was a pretty special and wildly outrageous lady, who spoke her mind and damn the consequences. She told me that she has homes all over the USA, including a farm in upstate New York, a penthouse in Las Vegas, a beach cottage in Panama City, a ranch in Montana, and an estate in Dallas. Plus a place she refers to as "the mansion" in Orlando.
I asked JC many times what her initials stand for. Every time I ask, or anyone else asks, they will get a different answer. "I am Joe Cool, don't you know?" Or once, "I was named after our nation's greatest President, Jimmy Carter." No really, JC, what do those initials stand for? "I am named after the son of God." The fact is, she legally changed her name to just her initials, so JC is officially her name.
She is one spitfire of a woman, a real whirling dervish. She will keep you on your toes and always keep you guessing. She comes up with the most unique sayings. Once I heard her talking to a girlfriend, and she said, "Just keep right on giving your man good wild sex, he'll follow you anywhere and do anything for you. For him, you'll be the cat's meow!"
JC has a big emotionally challenged dog named Jonz, who I find lovable but who has been known to bite folks unexpectedly. "You know Bill," she told me one day, "Jonz is a perfectly normal, wonderful dog, except when he snaps and goes nuts and starts biting people. But other than that..."
I wrote about my time at the Census bureau, and I needed a place to stay long term during that job. I mentioned it in passing to JC, so she asked where I'd be working. I told her it was Miami, and she said "Perfect, I have a condo there and its sitting empty. You'll live there as long as the job lasts. This will give me an excuse to come over and spend time working on it, painting and doing repairs and such." So I was treated to just over a month in a luxury 3 bedroom 2 story condo, with the added pleasure of her frequent company as she'd come and visit what she dubbed our "love nest."
Which leads me to the confession that No, we don't have any rolls in the hay. She is a very attractive and very fit woman, with energy to spare. I should be so lucky! But she is mostly attracted to much younger men, finely chiseled specimens with recent college degrees. Alas, this does not describe A Driving Fool. Frankly, I don't know if I could keep up with her level of energy, either. She is a non-stop work machine whenever I'm around her. Her daughter's friend dropped by the "love nest" in Miami one day while JC was busy cleaning, and the girl said, "Gee, is there anything I could do to help?" JC just stared at her, then waved the rag and said, "Well, you see a rag in my hand, don't you? Get a clue, sister."
I have now stayed with JC as I travel in 4 of the 10 homes I know of that she lives in. We both keep saying how strange it is that I happen to be headed where she happens to be staying at any given time. Its like its meant to be. Just recently, I visited at the farm in upstate New York for the first time, and it was amazing. She has a 150 year old farmhouse with clapboard floors and an old iron tub, a big red barn out back and green rolling hills all around.
We took a ride in her new tiny Honda, as she traversed the back roads and dirt trails in a fashion that would impress the Duke boys from Hazzard County. After sitting out by a roaring bonfire that night, JC made another round of White Russians for us, and then we came inside and settled down for what she calls "VHS theater." None of those modern DVDs for her. We watched ON GOLDEN POND and we laughed while Jonz growled softly. And we celebrated finding each other and having such a warm and loving friendship. I know that I am truly blessed to have friends around America who open their hearts and their homes to me.
But there is none other quite like JC.
Oddly enough, we met on the Internet. JC is a lady who read my blogs and became fascinated by A DRIVING FOOL. She was generous with her comments, such as "You are one helluva good guy Bill. When that guy got into your face, I would have been throwing punches, but you just roll with them. There's some good karma to be learned from you." I read this and all of her other comments, and I thought that THIS LADY GETS ME. So I wrote to her, and she wrote to me, and for the first time in my life I had made a real, true friend without actually meeting face to face.
Next thing you know we became friends by phone, and she wanted to keep up with all of my travels. I began to learn that she was a pretty special and wildly outrageous lady, who spoke her mind and damn the consequences. She told me that she has homes all over the USA, including a farm in upstate New York, a penthouse in Las Vegas, a beach cottage in Panama City, a ranch in Montana, and an estate in Dallas. Plus a place she refers to as "the mansion" in Orlando.
I asked JC many times what her initials stand for. Every time I ask, or anyone else asks, they will get a different answer. "I am Joe Cool, don't you know?" Or once, "I was named after our nation's greatest President, Jimmy Carter." No really, JC, what do those initials stand for? "I am named after the son of God." The fact is, she legally changed her name to just her initials, so JC is officially her name.
She is one spitfire of a woman, a real whirling dervish. She will keep you on your toes and always keep you guessing. She comes up with the most unique sayings. Once I heard her talking to a girlfriend, and she said, "Just keep right on giving your man good wild sex, he'll follow you anywhere and do anything for you. For him, you'll be the cat's meow!"
JC has a big emotionally challenged dog named Jonz, who I find lovable but who has been known to bite folks unexpectedly. "You know Bill," she told me one day, "Jonz is a perfectly normal, wonderful dog, except when he snaps and goes nuts and starts biting people. But other than that..."
I wrote about my time at the Census bureau, and I needed a place to stay long term during that job. I mentioned it in passing to JC, so she asked where I'd be working. I told her it was Miami, and she said "Perfect, I have a condo there and its sitting empty. You'll live there as long as the job lasts. This will give me an excuse to come over and spend time working on it, painting and doing repairs and such." So I was treated to just over a month in a luxury 3 bedroom 2 story condo, with the added pleasure of her frequent company as she'd come and visit what she dubbed our "love nest."
Which leads me to the confession that No, we don't have any rolls in the hay. She is a very attractive and very fit woman, with energy to spare. I should be so lucky! But she is mostly attracted to much younger men, finely chiseled specimens with recent college degrees. Alas, this does not describe A Driving Fool. Frankly, I don't know if I could keep up with her level of energy, either. She is a non-stop work machine whenever I'm around her. Her daughter's friend dropped by the "love nest" in Miami one day while JC was busy cleaning, and the girl said, "Gee, is there anything I could do to help?" JC just stared at her, then waved the rag and said, "Well, you see a rag in my hand, don't you? Get a clue, sister."
I have now stayed with JC as I travel in 4 of the 10 homes I know of that she lives in. We both keep saying how strange it is that I happen to be headed where she happens to be staying at any given time. Its like its meant to be. Just recently, I visited at the farm in upstate New York for the first time, and it was amazing. She has a 150 year old farmhouse with clapboard floors and an old iron tub, a big red barn out back and green rolling hills all around.
We took a ride in her new tiny Honda, as she traversed the back roads and dirt trails in a fashion that would impress the Duke boys from Hazzard County. After sitting out by a roaring bonfire that night, JC made another round of White Russians for us, and then we came inside and settled down for what she calls "VHS theater." None of those modern DVDs for her. We watched ON GOLDEN POND and we laughed while Jonz growled softly. And we celebrated finding each other and having such a warm and loving friendship. I know that I am truly blessed to have friends around America who open their hearts and their homes to me.
But there is none other quite like JC.
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
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."
"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."
Monday, June 28, 2010
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!
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!
Thursday, May 27, 2010
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.
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.
Sunday, May 16, 2010
A TOUGH NIGHT IN NEW JERSEY
I was going to pick up a car in Jersey.
What happened was this:
I was in Florida, reaching out to Riff my boss because I had a free one way plane ticket to anywhere in the USA that Southwest flies. My cousin is an exec with SW, and he gave me a free Buddy Pass for my birthday. But it was gonna expire Saturday.
Riff said there was a car in New Jersey, and it was going to Miami. So I made absolutely sure it was a certainty, then flew to NJ on Thursday. Took two planes, ended up in Long Island. Then took a shuttle van, then a train, then a cab, then a long bus ride. Total cost $40 (out of my pocket) Total time elapsed from Long Island airport to way out in NJ-- 4 1/2 hours.
I called again and again to give them updates on my travel, and Riff laughed and said not to worry. The car was getting detailed at the car shop, and would be waiting for me at a parking lot at the end of the bus line. Which was way, way out in the sticks. When I got to the parking lot, the bus left and I hunted for the car. Whoops. It wasn't there.
So I called and called, and finally Riff answered and said the order was canceled. The fact is that they had called and left a message for the lady the car was going to in Miami, but she had not called back.
She finally called 30 minutes before I arrived at the parking lot, and said she had been fired the day before (it was a company car) So my office called her company, and they confirmed she was fired and
canceled the order. All of which SHOULD have been done before I got on a plane.
My boss broke the rules, didn't follow procedure. I asked what to do, and Riff said Good Luck and hung up. I was stuck out in the middle of nowhere, 10 miles from the nearest small town. No transportation, no cabs, no motels, nothing. Plus, I had $40 cash left on me, and was counting on the check that was to be left for me in the car.
So I picked up my bags and began to walk. And walk. And walk. It soon got dark, and I found a park and went way back into it, then found a nice soft spot and slept on the ground. Made a little bed with my bags. It actually got chilly overnight.
At 6am, Riff called to say he had another car nearby headed to Chicago. I walked five miles to a little Diner, and a nice man there offered to drive me to pick up the car.
So now I am on my way to Chicago. Once there, I will drop off the car and fly back to Florida. As angry and frustrated as I was, I am grateful that I got out of it safely. I definitely have a Guardian Angel on my shoulder, and I like to believe its my deceased Father. The Driving Fool rides again!!
What happened was this:
I was in Florida, reaching out to Riff my boss because I had a free one way plane ticket to anywhere in the USA that Southwest flies. My cousin is an exec with SW, and he gave me a free Buddy Pass for my birthday. But it was gonna expire Saturday.
Riff said there was a car in New Jersey, and it was going to Miami. So I made absolutely sure it was a certainty, then flew to NJ on Thursday. Took two planes, ended up in Long Island. Then took a shuttle van, then a train, then a cab, then a long bus ride. Total cost $40 (out of my pocket) Total time elapsed from Long Island airport to way out in NJ-- 4 1/2 hours.
I called again and again to give them updates on my travel, and Riff laughed and said not to worry. The car was getting detailed at the car shop, and would be waiting for me at a parking lot at the end of the bus line. Which was way, way out in the sticks. When I got to the parking lot, the bus left and I hunted for the car. Whoops. It wasn't there.
So I called and called, and finally Riff answered and said the order was canceled. The fact is that they had called and left a message for the lady the car was going to in Miami, but she had not called back.
She finally called 30 minutes before I arrived at the parking lot, and said she had been fired the day before (it was a company car) So my office called her company, and they confirmed she was fired and
canceled the order. All of which SHOULD have been done before I got on a plane.
My boss broke the rules, didn't follow procedure. I asked what to do, and Riff said Good Luck and hung up. I was stuck out in the middle of nowhere, 10 miles from the nearest small town. No transportation, no cabs, no motels, nothing. Plus, I had $40 cash left on me, and was counting on the check that was to be left for me in the car.
So I picked up my bags and began to walk. And walk. And walk. It soon got dark, and I found a park and went way back into it, then found a nice soft spot and slept on the ground. Made a little bed with my bags. It actually got chilly overnight.
At 6am, Riff called to say he had another car nearby headed to Chicago. I walked five miles to a little Diner, and a nice man there offered to drive me to pick up the car.
So now I am on my way to Chicago. Once there, I will drop off the car and fly back to Florida. As angry and frustrated as I was, I am grateful that I got out of it safely. I definitely have a Guardian Angel on my shoulder, and I like to believe its my deceased Father. The Driving Fool rides again!!
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