There was a scene in one of my favorite movies, STRIPES, where Bill Murray asks his platoon who cried when Old Yeller died. No one will admit to it, but Bill presses them until they all raise their hands.
I still remember seeing OLD YELLER when I was a kid. I cried my eyes out when the boy had to shoot his dog. It seemed so unfair and horribly wrong. Couldn't the vet fix him up, I wondered? That movie was just one of the building blocks that was at the very foundation of my love for dogs.
A couple of weeks ago, I stopped off and saw my friends Tom and Jenny Forrest at their ranch in Texas. Jenny takes in any dogs that have been lost or abandoned and does her best to find homes for them. And she is very good at it, she has a high success rate.
When I arrived at the ranch, she ran out the door followed by a big bunch of dogs (as usual) and threw her arms around me. I love hugs, and she is a great hugger. But when I was ready to let go, she pulled me in tighter. I was touched and felt so loved. "How you doing, Bill-doggie."
"Is that my new nickname?"
"I've been calling you that for a while, you just haven't been paying attention."
"Oh, is that it?"
"Yeah, that's it. Tom caught a bunch of catfish, I am cooking them up for dinner tonight. It's going to be a feast."
"Cool."
"You look like you've lost a few pounds."
"Maybe just a few, but that's all."
"Come on inside and tell me all your latest stories from the road."
We went in, and I could not find a place to sit down. They have plenty of chairs and two couches, but all of the dogs had laid claim on every one of them. "So how many dogs do you have now?"
"20 in the house, 15 outside in the pens. And they are a handful."
"But you love it."
"I do. How can I not?"
"You have such a big heart."
"So do you. That's why I love you."
The front door burst open and Tom rushed in. "Jenny, where's my shotgun."
"What? Why do you need your shotgun?"
Tom was hurrying around looking in the closets, the pantry, anywhere and everywhere. "It's those neighbors, they're at it again. They are trying to take my business away."
Jenny stood in Tom's path and grabbed him by the arms. "Hey! Hey! Look at me. Calm the hell down! This isn't the way."
"No more pacifism, its time to get down to business."
"Tom, listen to me! You have to chill out. Let me roll us a doobie and we'll sit and figure out a strategy." Tom seemed to calm down slightly. "You haven't even said hello to Bill yet."
Tom seemed to notice me for the first time. "Oh, hey there Bill. I'm sorry, I'm just so pissed off right now I can't see straight."
"I can see that. Anything I can do?"
"Will you go shoot them for me?"
Jenny laughed. "You don't want to shoot anyone."
Tom laughed back. "Well, I really would like to, but we both know I'm not gonna."
We sat and talked, and I told them a few tales of my adventures which seemed to effectively distract Tom. Before long, Jenny made supper, and it was purely delicious. I've heard that fish is brain food. I can only say for sure that its GOOD food.
They have a little room upstairs where I stay when I visit. It's kind of a loft, separated from their living quarters, and with its own entrance. I was up there after supper mapping out my trip for the next day, when Jenny walked in with a small dog in her arms. "Hey Bill-doggie, you got a minute."
"Of course."
"Got someone I want you to meet. This is Mr. Tom Hanks."
"Like the movie star?"
"Yes, but I think the actor was named after this little guy."
"I see."
"He's about a year old, and he's an adventurer. He's decided he wants to hit the road, and asked me if he could be yours." She put Tom Hanks into my lap. The little pooch began to lick my face and my heart began to melt. I instantly fell in love with this dog.
"I would love nothing more than to have a dog."
"Well that's good, because now you have one. I've been looking for the perfect dog for you, and now I've found him. Bill Thomas and Tom Hanks, riding around the USA together, getting into all kinds of adventures.
My heart sunk. Because as much as I wanted this dog, I knew it could never work. "Jenny, I love you so much for offering me."
"Nope, this isn't an offer, it's a done deal. He's yours and you are his. Period, end of story."
I let out a long sigh. "I can't."
"Why? You are all alone on the road. Now you'd have a co-pilot and a constant companion. And no one will give you the kind of unconditional love that this little guy will."
"No doubt."
"Well then, I'd say you've run out of excuses."
"The thing is, when I'm in between cars to drive, I'm running around on planes, trains, and rental automobiles. I couldn't take a dog along. It wouldn't be fair to him even if I could." Tom Hanks whimpered and licked my face. I felt a huge lump in my throat.
Jenny looked sad, but said that she understood. "One of these days, we're going to get you off the road for good. And then you will have a dog."
"Or two."
"Or three."
"You got it, sister."
"Amen, brother." Jenny leaned over and kissed me on the cheek.
The next day as I drove off from the ranch, I felt that tug at my heart like when I first saw OLD YELLER. My situation makes it next to impossible to have a dog right now. But there are a whole lot of them that need homes, so if you would like a new best friend, my friend Jenny Forrest will be happy to help you out.
Monday, May 30, 2011
Sunday, May 22, 2011
A FLORIDA EXORCISM
I was going to deliver a car the other morning to Clearwater, Florida. Then I had another one to pick up that night in St. Petersburg, but not until after 9 pm. My old friend Pastor Rex agreed to pick me up at the dropoff point in Clearwater, near his home, as long as I didn't mind running some errands with him.
When Pastor Rex arrived in his old but sturdy truck, I saw that there was a young man in the front seat. "Get in back," he said to me, "I've got shotgun."
As I squeezed into the back of the truck's cab, Rex said to me, "This is my nephew Rick, he's here for a visit. He's my sister's son."
"Nice to meet you, Rick, I'm Bill."
"If you say so," he replied, with a healthy helping of attitude in his voice.
Rex chuckled. "Rick thinks he's a bad boy, but we both know he has a heart of gold. Don't we, Rick?"
"Shut up, Uncle Rex."
Rex looked back over his shoulder at me and winked. "He's a pistol!"
"I'm bored, when are we gonna do something?" asked Rick.
"Well guys, I'm afraid I'm going to have to drag you along on a church errand. I have to stop by the hospital and perform an exorcism," Rex explained.
Rick came to life. "Really? Cool, I want to see this."
"Sorry Rick, you're not invited."
"Hell with that, just try to stop me. I love that satanic shit."
"Watch your language, Rick."
"You watch your own language, I'm 23 and do what the hell I want to do. Got me? Ha ha, don't take me too seriously."
Rex smiled and shook his head. "You are one little son of a gun."
"Um, Rex, I thought exorcisms were a Catholic thing," I said, pondering.
"They are."
"But you are Baptist, they didn't teach you about this in the seminary did they?"
"They certainly did not."
"Then how will you proceed?"
"I've seen that movie THE EXORCIST at least a dozen times, I think I can approximate it." Rex let go with a snort.
I shrugged. "I still don't understand."
"Look, the woman in the hospital is dying. She has a brain tumor that is making her act strangely and say bizarre things. Her grandparents are convinced that she has been possessed by Satan. Basically, I'm just trying to do something which will give them some peace."
"Lame!" sneered Rick.
"There's nothing lame about it, Rick, I try to bring comfort to my church members."
"OK, whatever."
Rex looked over his shoulder at me and winked, motioning towards Rick. "He's a rascal."
We turned into the hospital, and as Rex angled for a parking spot someone cut in front of him. Rick went off, spewing a long string of cuss words and pounding his window with his fist, displaying deep anger at the other driver.
"Calm down, nephew."
"You just gonna let them get away with that crap? No way, there has to be some payback."
"Have you ever heard the expression 'turn the other cheek'?"
"Screw that!"
Pastor Rex parked and started to climb out of the truck. Rick opened his door. "No Rick, you stay here."
"Hell with that, I'm coming in."
"Rick, I'm going to have to insist, you stay in the truck with Bill."
"Dammit!" Rick shouted. Rex grabbed his Bible, shut the door and went on into the hospital. Rick spun around to face me. "Uncle Rex is a good, kind man."
"I agree fully. There is no warmer, kinder, more generous man than your Uncle."
"That's not me. I am vengeful and violent and vindictive. If I were driving and that guy had cut me off, there would be hell to pay. I'm the kind of guy who would dismember you, put your parts into separate Hefty trash bags, and then throw all the bags into the Gulf of Mexico." He paused, then reached back and punched my shoulder. "Hey dude, I'm messing with you. God, don't be so serious all the time."
"Hmm. Interesting."
After a moment, Rick opened the truck door. "Screw it, I'm going in."
"But your Uncle Rex--"
"No one tells Rick what to do!" With that, Rick jumped out, slammed the door, and ran for the entrance.
An hour later, they came out to the truck again. Both very quiet and subdued. We drove back to the house, and I asked if I could go into the guest room and read for a while. I guess I fell asleep, because a few hours later Rex was waking me up. "Hey Bill, you OK?"
"Yeah, I nodded off for a while."
"You needed the rest. Listen, something has come up and I have to drive down to Naples. Would you mind if Rick gives you a ride to the pickup point in St. Pete?"
"Not at all. If he doesn't mind."
"No, he said he'd be glad to do it."
Rick's voice sang out from the hallway. "I did not say that!"
Pastor Rex shook his head and smiled. "He's a scoundrel."
A few hours later, Rick looked in my room and said, "I have to go meet some girls, you want to come along? Or are you afraid of girls?"
"Uh, no, not afraid of them. But if you want to go be with them, then come back and get me later..."
"The thing is, they are in St. Pete, so it doesn't make sense to go over there then come back later to get you to take over there."
I agreed, and a half hour later we were on our way over. Rick shared his jaded philosophies of life, and I was slightly frightened by some of his views. We arrived at a Gulf front bar at Happy Hour. I could not have a drink, as I would be driving. But Rick dove right in, and when the girls came he began to act like a gangsta rapper. "Yo, yo, yo, ladies, gangsta Rick is in the house. Yo check it, I saw me a real live exorcism today."
The girls were intrigued, and Rick began to tell a tale that had me fascinated as well. He said that Pastor Rex had beaten on the chest of the girl with his fists, screaming for the Devil to come out. And then he had smacked her in the head repeatedly with his Bible, demanding for the demon to vacate the vessel. More mayhem, more madness, and finally Rex and the girl had hit the floor, where he commanded that all evil spirits leave the place while burning a cross into her chest. It was a powerful story, and Rick told it in a way that had us all on pins and needles. He made us feel that we were there with him, witnessing this evangelical event.
"Now," Rick said, "which one of you ladies wants to get lucky and get wit me? Or shall we try a Rick sandwich. I got the meat if you got the bread, baby." He proceeded to get very drunk very fast. So I decided to take a few city buses to get where I needed to pick up my next car to deliver. As I left he shouted out a few obscenities, but I actually think he meant them in the nicest way.
The next day as I was driving, Pastor Rex called me on my cell phone. I put on the headset and spoke to him for a while. I told him how very cool it was that he had such an exciting exorcism. He asked me what Rick had told me, and I gave him a good description of the story. Rex just laughed and said, "Here's what really happened. I went in and talked to the girl for an hour. I shared my testimony, and told her about incidents where I have seen God's work in action. Where I have seen His hand at work, and that miracles really do happen. And about His greatest gift, giving us His son to die for our sins. And she accepted the Lord Jesus as her savior, then she passed away late last night. So there's a happy ending."
"Rick's version was so convincing."
"Did he get you where you were going last night?"
"No, he was getting involved with 2 pretty girls, so I left and made it there on the bus."
"He has my wife's car, and hasn't been home since you two left yesterday. She's getting upset, she wants her car back. But what are you gonna do? He's a rascal."
When Pastor Rex arrived in his old but sturdy truck, I saw that there was a young man in the front seat. "Get in back," he said to me, "I've got shotgun."
As I squeezed into the back of the truck's cab, Rex said to me, "This is my nephew Rick, he's here for a visit. He's my sister's son."
"Nice to meet you, Rick, I'm Bill."
"If you say so," he replied, with a healthy helping of attitude in his voice.
Rex chuckled. "Rick thinks he's a bad boy, but we both know he has a heart of gold. Don't we, Rick?"
"Shut up, Uncle Rex."
Rex looked back over his shoulder at me and winked. "He's a pistol!"
"I'm bored, when are we gonna do something?" asked Rick.
"Well guys, I'm afraid I'm going to have to drag you along on a church errand. I have to stop by the hospital and perform an exorcism," Rex explained.
Rick came to life. "Really? Cool, I want to see this."
"Sorry Rick, you're not invited."
"Hell with that, just try to stop me. I love that satanic shit."
"Watch your language, Rick."
"You watch your own language, I'm 23 and do what the hell I want to do. Got me? Ha ha, don't take me too seriously."
Rex smiled and shook his head. "You are one little son of a gun."
"Um, Rex, I thought exorcisms were a Catholic thing," I said, pondering.
"They are."
"But you are Baptist, they didn't teach you about this in the seminary did they?"
"They certainly did not."
"Then how will you proceed?"
"I've seen that movie THE EXORCIST at least a dozen times, I think I can approximate it." Rex let go with a snort.
I shrugged. "I still don't understand."
"Look, the woman in the hospital is dying. She has a brain tumor that is making her act strangely and say bizarre things. Her grandparents are convinced that she has been possessed by Satan. Basically, I'm just trying to do something which will give them some peace."
"Lame!" sneered Rick.
"There's nothing lame about it, Rick, I try to bring comfort to my church members."
"OK, whatever."
Rex looked over his shoulder at me and winked, motioning towards Rick. "He's a rascal."
We turned into the hospital, and as Rex angled for a parking spot someone cut in front of him. Rick went off, spewing a long string of cuss words and pounding his window with his fist, displaying deep anger at the other driver.
"Calm down, nephew."
"You just gonna let them get away with that crap? No way, there has to be some payback."
"Have you ever heard the expression 'turn the other cheek'?"
"Screw that!"
Pastor Rex parked and started to climb out of the truck. Rick opened his door. "No Rick, you stay here."
"Hell with that, I'm coming in."
"Rick, I'm going to have to insist, you stay in the truck with Bill."
"Dammit!" Rick shouted. Rex grabbed his Bible, shut the door and went on into the hospital. Rick spun around to face me. "Uncle Rex is a good, kind man."
"I agree fully. There is no warmer, kinder, more generous man than your Uncle."
"That's not me. I am vengeful and violent and vindictive. If I were driving and that guy had cut me off, there would be hell to pay. I'm the kind of guy who would dismember you, put your parts into separate Hefty trash bags, and then throw all the bags into the Gulf of Mexico." He paused, then reached back and punched my shoulder. "Hey dude, I'm messing with you. God, don't be so serious all the time."
"Hmm. Interesting."
After a moment, Rick opened the truck door. "Screw it, I'm going in."
"But your Uncle Rex--"
"No one tells Rick what to do!" With that, Rick jumped out, slammed the door, and ran for the entrance.
An hour later, they came out to the truck again. Both very quiet and subdued. We drove back to the house, and I asked if I could go into the guest room and read for a while. I guess I fell asleep, because a few hours later Rex was waking me up. "Hey Bill, you OK?"
"Yeah, I nodded off for a while."
"You needed the rest. Listen, something has come up and I have to drive down to Naples. Would you mind if Rick gives you a ride to the pickup point in St. Pete?"
"Not at all. If he doesn't mind."
"No, he said he'd be glad to do it."
Rick's voice sang out from the hallway. "I did not say that!"
Pastor Rex shook his head and smiled. "He's a scoundrel."
A few hours later, Rick looked in my room and said, "I have to go meet some girls, you want to come along? Or are you afraid of girls?"
"Uh, no, not afraid of them. But if you want to go be with them, then come back and get me later..."
"The thing is, they are in St. Pete, so it doesn't make sense to go over there then come back later to get you to take over there."
I agreed, and a half hour later we were on our way over. Rick shared his jaded philosophies of life, and I was slightly frightened by some of his views. We arrived at a Gulf front bar at Happy Hour. I could not have a drink, as I would be driving. But Rick dove right in, and when the girls came he began to act like a gangsta rapper. "Yo, yo, yo, ladies, gangsta Rick is in the house. Yo check it, I saw me a real live exorcism today."
The girls were intrigued, and Rick began to tell a tale that had me fascinated as well. He said that Pastor Rex had beaten on the chest of the girl with his fists, screaming for the Devil to come out. And then he had smacked her in the head repeatedly with his Bible, demanding for the demon to vacate the vessel. More mayhem, more madness, and finally Rex and the girl had hit the floor, where he commanded that all evil spirits leave the place while burning a cross into her chest. It was a powerful story, and Rick told it in a way that had us all on pins and needles. He made us feel that we were there with him, witnessing this evangelical event.
"Now," Rick said, "which one of you ladies wants to get lucky and get wit me? Or shall we try a Rick sandwich. I got the meat if you got the bread, baby." He proceeded to get very drunk very fast. So I decided to take a few city buses to get where I needed to pick up my next car to deliver. As I left he shouted out a few obscenities, but I actually think he meant them in the nicest way.
The next day as I was driving, Pastor Rex called me on my cell phone. I put on the headset and spoke to him for a while. I told him how very cool it was that he had such an exciting exorcism. He asked me what Rick had told me, and I gave him a good description of the story. Rex just laughed and said, "Here's what really happened. I went in and talked to the girl for an hour. I shared my testimony, and told her about incidents where I have seen God's work in action. Where I have seen His hand at work, and that miracles really do happen. And about His greatest gift, giving us His son to die for our sins. And she accepted the Lord Jesus as her savior, then she passed away late last night. So there's a happy ending."
"Rick's version was so convincing."
"Did he get you where you were going last night?"
"No, he was getting involved with 2 pretty girls, so I left and made it there on the bus."
"He has my wife's car, and hasn't been home since you two left yesterday. She's getting upset, she wants her car back. But what are you gonna do? He's a rascal."
Saturday, May 7, 2011
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.
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.
Monday, April 25, 2011
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.
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.
Saturday, April 16, 2011
TALKING TO THE COMPUTER
I delivered a car to Maryland, and then hopped on a plane and flew to Texas for my next pick up. I was in an aisle seat on the plane, and found myself in the middle of a family. The two people on my side of the row were related to the folks in the seats across the aisle. I say two people, but it was really three in my row if you count the toddler.
And I do.
Once we were in the air, what appeared to be the Grandparents across the aisle were leaning over and waving and cooing at the toddler, and kept asking his parents to pass him over. Which meant passing him over me. No problem, except that each time they passed the kid, he'd either whack me with his hand in the face or kick me with his tiny shoes. Surprising how much punch can be delivered by such little feet. The Grandparents would play with him til he cried, then pass him back to Mom and Dad. Once the little tyke was calm again, the old folks would hold out their arms. The child must have been passed back and forth at least ten times during the flight.
I was really glad to get off that flight, I wanted a nap but every time I'd start to nod off a foot would kick me in the head. Knowing that I had time to kill before picking up the next car, I found a little Coffee Cafe called COFFEE, TEA, OR ME. Odd name, but they had free Wifi and so I decided to drop in. Got a cup of green tea and opened up my laptop. I noticed that there were two tables right in front of me that had desktop style computers, with a sign that stated "15 MINUTE LIMIT PER CUSTOMER."
It began to rain outside as I checked my email. I hoped it would stop fairly soon, as I had to catch several buses to get where I was going. A woman walked in humming loudly, then broke into song. I didn't recognize the tune or the lyrics, but I like it when someone is happy. She sat down at one of the computers and spoke to it. "Now are you going to work for me today? I'm counting on you, I have some very important papers I need to print. Do you understand me? Very important. Oh yes, oh yes." She went about setting up her materials and started to type.
A waitress walked up to her and smiled. "What can I get for you?"
"I beg your pardon?"
"Would you like something to drink? Coffee, tea, juice?"
"What I'd like is some privacy and some peace and quiet. Tell me, do you think that's too much for me to ask? Really, I would like your opinion."
"Uh, no ma'am, you're welcome to use our computer."
"Oh good, I have your blessing. Well then, run along now." When the waitress left, the woman leaned down close to the computer. "I thought she'd never leave. The nerve of some people. I just want you and me to be here alone and get our work done. You can understand, right? Right? Hello, I'm speaking to you, the courtesy of a response would be much appreciated."
The computer said nothing. It just sat quietly. The woman got to work, but she peppered her task with comments. "You really do run slow, you know." "I've worked on much more efficient operating systems than yours." "I don't mean to insult you, but you are most definitely substandard."
I looked out the window and watched the rain. I found myself drifting off into a daydream, and then suddenly was brought back to reality by the woman, who raised her voice. "What are you looking at?" she asked me with suspicion.
"Just watching the rain," I told her.
"You were watching me doing my personal business. Don't try to deny it."
"Trust me, I was watching the rain and wondering when it would stop."
"How can I trust you, I don't even know you. And I don't buy that story for one minute. You were sticking your fat nose into my business, and I want you to know that I don't appreciate it. Keep your eyes to yourself." She got back to her work, and I stared at my computer screen. Then I overheard her say to her computer, "Can you believe the nerve of that man? What kind of world do we live in where a mean, nasty man would try to spy on you. Will you tell me that? I'm flabbergasted." Then she pulled a sandwich and a can of Coke out of her purse.
Soon I was so focused on my work that I'd pretty much forgotten the lady sitting in front of me. But then the printer wouldn't work, and she began to exclaim "What is wrong with you, Mr. Printer? I need you to work now, this is a most important matter. Please just do your job, that's all that I ask."
The woman raised her voice and actually began to yell at the printer. The waitress came over and asked, "What's the problem, ma'am?"
"Go away, this is between me and the printer."
"Maybe I can help you."
"Oh, I seriously doubt that."
"Our printer hasn't been working too well lately," the waitress offered, most politely.
"Well I am outraged! I come in here and spend my money, and you don't even have a working computer? Why did I come? Why am I here?"
The waitress shrugged and walked away. The woman got up in a huff and grabbed her things to leave. I noticed that her umbrella was still hanging on the back of the chair, so I grabbed it and ran to the door to hand it to her.
"I think you forgot this," I said.
"What? What's this?"
"I believe it's your umbrella, it was hanging on the back of your chair."
The woman looked as if she were about to cry. "Oh my goodness. It is mine. Oh sir, you are a true gentleman. Chivalry is not dead, well, not yet anyway. Thank you so much." As I stepped away, I heard her speaking to the umbrella. "I almost left you in there. Then I would have gotten wet, and you would have been abandoned. An orphan, as it were."
I packed up my computer, grabbed my bag, and started out the door opening my own umbrella. It was going to be a very wet drive tonight.
And I do.
Once we were in the air, what appeared to be the Grandparents across the aisle were leaning over and waving and cooing at the toddler, and kept asking his parents to pass him over. Which meant passing him over me. No problem, except that each time they passed the kid, he'd either whack me with his hand in the face or kick me with his tiny shoes. Surprising how much punch can be delivered by such little feet. The Grandparents would play with him til he cried, then pass him back to Mom and Dad. Once the little tyke was calm again, the old folks would hold out their arms. The child must have been passed back and forth at least ten times during the flight.
I was really glad to get off that flight, I wanted a nap but every time I'd start to nod off a foot would kick me in the head. Knowing that I had time to kill before picking up the next car, I found a little Coffee Cafe called COFFEE, TEA, OR ME. Odd name, but they had free Wifi and so I decided to drop in. Got a cup of green tea and opened up my laptop. I noticed that there were two tables right in front of me that had desktop style computers, with a sign that stated "15 MINUTE LIMIT PER CUSTOMER."
It began to rain outside as I checked my email. I hoped it would stop fairly soon, as I had to catch several buses to get where I was going. A woman walked in humming loudly, then broke into song. I didn't recognize the tune or the lyrics, but I like it when someone is happy. She sat down at one of the computers and spoke to it. "Now are you going to work for me today? I'm counting on you, I have some very important papers I need to print. Do you understand me? Very important. Oh yes, oh yes." She went about setting up her materials and started to type.
A waitress walked up to her and smiled. "What can I get for you?"
"I beg your pardon?"
"Would you like something to drink? Coffee, tea, juice?"
"What I'd like is some privacy and some peace and quiet. Tell me, do you think that's too much for me to ask? Really, I would like your opinion."
"Uh, no ma'am, you're welcome to use our computer."
"Oh good, I have your blessing. Well then, run along now." When the waitress left, the woman leaned down close to the computer. "I thought she'd never leave. The nerve of some people. I just want you and me to be here alone and get our work done. You can understand, right? Right? Hello, I'm speaking to you, the courtesy of a response would be much appreciated."
The computer said nothing. It just sat quietly. The woman got to work, but she peppered her task with comments. "You really do run slow, you know." "I've worked on much more efficient operating systems than yours." "I don't mean to insult you, but you are most definitely substandard."
I looked out the window and watched the rain. I found myself drifting off into a daydream, and then suddenly was brought back to reality by the woman, who raised her voice. "What are you looking at?" she asked me with suspicion.
"Just watching the rain," I told her.
"You were watching me doing my personal business. Don't try to deny it."
"Trust me, I was watching the rain and wondering when it would stop."
"How can I trust you, I don't even know you. And I don't buy that story for one minute. You were sticking your fat nose into my business, and I want you to know that I don't appreciate it. Keep your eyes to yourself." She got back to her work, and I stared at my computer screen. Then I overheard her say to her computer, "Can you believe the nerve of that man? What kind of world do we live in where a mean, nasty man would try to spy on you. Will you tell me that? I'm flabbergasted." Then she pulled a sandwich and a can of Coke out of her purse.
Soon I was so focused on my work that I'd pretty much forgotten the lady sitting in front of me. But then the printer wouldn't work, and she began to exclaim "What is wrong with you, Mr. Printer? I need you to work now, this is a most important matter. Please just do your job, that's all that I ask."
The woman raised her voice and actually began to yell at the printer. The waitress came over and asked, "What's the problem, ma'am?"
"Go away, this is between me and the printer."
"Maybe I can help you."
"Oh, I seriously doubt that."
"Our printer hasn't been working too well lately," the waitress offered, most politely.
"Well I am outraged! I come in here and spend my money, and you don't even have a working computer? Why did I come? Why am I here?"
The waitress shrugged and walked away. The woman got up in a huff and grabbed her things to leave. I noticed that her umbrella was still hanging on the back of the chair, so I grabbed it and ran to the door to hand it to her.
"I think you forgot this," I said.
"What? What's this?"
"I believe it's your umbrella, it was hanging on the back of your chair."
The woman looked as if she were about to cry. "Oh my goodness. It is mine. Oh sir, you are a true gentleman. Chivalry is not dead, well, not yet anyway. Thank you so much." As I stepped away, I heard her speaking to the umbrella. "I almost left you in there. Then I would have gotten wet, and you would have been abandoned. An orphan, as it were."
I packed up my computer, grabbed my bag, and started out the door opening my own umbrella. It was going to be a very wet drive tonight.
Monday, April 11, 2011
PERRY COMO'S STATUE
On my way to deliver a car to Washington, PA, I got a call from the man I was delivering to.
"Where in God's creation are you?" Mr. Dexter asked me.
"Columbia, South Carolina at the moment."
"There's no reason to be a smart ass."
This stumped me. "Sir, I wasn't trying to be a--"
"Enough chit-chat, just tell me when I'm gonna get my freakin' car, would you?"
"Tomorrow morning, just as we'd planned."
"That was your plan, not mine. I simply agreed to it. And then what?"
I cleared my throat. "Well, then I catch a plane to Florida so I can pick up another car."
"And I suppose you want me to take you to the airport?"
"You don't have to, but if you are offering I'll graciously accept."
"OK, OK, just call me in the morning before you arrive at my house. I like to walk around the house buck naked, so it would be nice to have some warning. Just so I can put on some pants."
"You got it."
"Do me a favor, please don't crash and wreck my car on the drive up here. I need my car."
"Everything will be fine, Mr. Dexter."
"It better be." He hung up.
I drove north through North Carolina, Virginia, West Virginia, and finally into Pennsylvania. There were a lot of very winding roads, and long tunnels that went right through the middle of mountains. Very cool.
I arrived late at my motel in Washington, and all I wanted to do was go to sleep. I set both of my portable alarm clocks, just to be certain that I woke up on time the next morning.
At sunrise, I was up and taking a quick shower. I checked out of the motel and drove the five miles to the man's home, calling him as I promised along the way. It kept sending me to his voicemail. I arrived at the house and sat in the driveway for 30 minutes. Finally, he called me back.
"Is this Bill Thomas?" he asked. "Bill the driver?"
"Yes sir, I'm right in front of your house."
"Did I or did I not instruct you to call me before you arrived?"
"I've been calling, I got no answer."
"It hardly matters, since I'm not there. I left early to do some business over in Canonsburg. Bring the car to me here, now."
"Uh, OK, how do I get to Canonsburg?"
"You're the driving expert. You're the navigational genius, you figure it out."
"Can I have the address, please?"
Mr. Dexter let out a long, heavy sigh. "You are a whole lot of trouble." He gave me the address and I jotted it down. Then I stopped at a Truck stop to get directions. Someone always knows at the Truck stop.
45 minutes later, I arrived at the address in Canonsburg. Mr. Dexter was outside looking at his watch and tapping his foot. "Took you long enough."
"I got here as quickly as I could."
"I'm not interested in your excuses, give me the car and let's be done with all this nonsense." He signed the paperwork and then said, "You're on your own for getting to the airport. I have more important things to do than chauffeur you all over the greater Pittsburgh area. Good luck." With that, he was gone.
I always have a back-up plan for how to get out of a place once I've dropped off a car. Always a Plan A and a Plan B. But I made those plans in accordance with my instructions to deliver in Washington, not Canonsburg. Luckily, a driving fool like me is very resourceful and quick on my feet. I found my way to City Hall, and there I got information about where to catch a Regional bus which would take me into downtown Pittsburgh. From there, a train ride and a city bus would get me to the airport.
While in City Hall, I also learned that Canonsburg is the birthplace of Perry Como and Bobby Vinton. And that Perry Como worked at a Barbershop in town before he became famous. There was a "Blue Velvet" teddy bear encased in glass inside City Hall, and a life size statue of Perry Como out front. I supposed I owe Mr. Dexter a big thank you for bringing me to Canonsburg. These are the little joys in life that make travels fun and full of discovery for a driving fool.
"Where in God's creation are you?" Mr. Dexter asked me.
"Columbia, South Carolina at the moment."
"There's no reason to be a smart ass."
This stumped me. "Sir, I wasn't trying to be a--"
"Enough chit-chat, just tell me when I'm gonna get my freakin' car, would you?"
"Tomorrow morning, just as we'd planned."
"That was your plan, not mine. I simply agreed to it. And then what?"
I cleared my throat. "Well, then I catch a plane to Florida so I can pick up another car."
"And I suppose you want me to take you to the airport?"
"You don't have to, but if you are offering I'll graciously accept."
"OK, OK, just call me in the morning before you arrive at my house. I like to walk around the house buck naked, so it would be nice to have some warning. Just so I can put on some pants."
"You got it."
"Do me a favor, please don't crash and wreck my car on the drive up here. I need my car."
"Everything will be fine, Mr. Dexter."
"It better be." He hung up.
I drove north through North Carolina, Virginia, West Virginia, and finally into Pennsylvania. There were a lot of very winding roads, and long tunnels that went right through the middle of mountains. Very cool.
I arrived late at my motel in Washington, and all I wanted to do was go to sleep. I set both of my portable alarm clocks, just to be certain that I woke up on time the next morning.
At sunrise, I was up and taking a quick shower. I checked out of the motel and drove the five miles to the man's home, calling him as I promised along the way. It kept sending me to his voicemail. I arrived at the house and sat in the driveway for 30 minutes. Finally, he called me back.
"Is this Bill Thomas?" he asked. "Bill the driver?"
"Yes sir, I'm right in front of your house."
"Did I or did I not instruct you to call me before you arrived?"
"I've been calling, I got no answer."
"It hardly matters, since I'm not there. I left early to do some business over in Canonsburg. Bring the car to me here, now."
"Uh, OK, how do I get to Canonsburg?"
"You're the driving expert. You're the navigational genius, you figure it out."
"Can I have the address, please?"
Mr. Dexter let out a long, heavy sigh. "You are a whole lot of trouble." He gave me the address and I jotted it down. Then I stopped at a Truck stop to get directions. Someone always knows at the Truck stop.
45 minutes later, I arrived at the address in Canonsburg. Mr. Dexter was outside looking at his watch and tapping his foot. "Took you long enough."
"I got here as quickly as I could."
"I'm not interested in your excuses, give me the car and let's be done with all this nonsense." He signed the paperwork and then said, "You're on your own for getting to the airport. I have more important things to do than chauffeur you all over the greater Pittsburgh area. Good luck." With that, he was gone.
I always have a back-up plan for how to get out of a place once I've dropped off a car. Always a Plan A and a Plan B. But I made those plans in accordance with my instructions to deliver in Washington, not Canonsburg. Luckily, a driving fool like me is very resourceful and quick on my feet. I found my way to City Hall, and there I got information about where to catch a Regional bus which would take me into downtown Pittsburgh. From there, a train ride and a city bus would get me to the airport.
While in City Hall, I also learned that Canonsburg is the birthplace of Perry Como and Bobby Vinton. And that Perry Como worked at a Barbershop in town before he became famous. There was a "Blue Velvet" teddy bear encased in glass inside City Hall, and a life size statue of Perry Como out front. I supposed I owe Mr. Dexter a big thank you for bringing me to Canonsburg. These are the little joys in life that make travels fun and full of discovery for a driving fool.
Sunday, April 3, 2011
FUN AT A THEME PARK
I had just finished a week of shuttling ambulances from Miami to the Jacksonville port in Florida. We had to wear a yellow safety vest at the port, and I kept forgetting to take mine off at the end of the day.
On Friday, I left Jacksonville in a rental car and drove to Orlando in a terrible rainstorm. Whipping wind and blinding rain made it a slow drive, and I got a headache out of the bargain. I was going to meet an old friend who works at Walt Disney World for dinner, but since I arrived hours before she got off work, I decided to go see a movie at Pleasure Island. They have a huge AMC 24-plex theater right there on Disney property, and I was debating what I wanted to see.
I walked purposefully through Downtown Disney under my umbrella, when a very haughty woman called to me, "Young man, young man. I need you to take me to where I catch the bus back to my hotel."
I shrugged and kept on walking. "Sorry, I can't help you."
The woman hurried over and stood in my path. "I beg your pardon, but you can at least tell me where the bus is."
"I have no idea. Have a nice day."
But she would not get out of my way. And her attitude went quickly from stuck up to hostile. "You will tell me what I want to know right away because you are required to."
"Listen ma'am, I do not have the information you require, and I'm running late, so--"
"How dare you! You cannot speak to me that way."
"Gotta go."
She held her own umbrella out to block my passage. "I don't like your sass. You are a worthless little man and barely worth my time. You are moronic and incompetent, and I just don't like anything about you. I am going to report you."
"Go ahead."
"I mean it. I intend to report that you were rude, impudent and sarcastic."
"Good, I encourage you to do so."
"What is your name?"
"I'm not telling."
"You absolutely must give me your name. I know the Disney rules, and as an employee you have to comply."
"I don't work here."
"Don't be an idiot, of course you do."
"Nope, I don't."
"But you're wearing the yellow vest, that means you're an employee."
I looked down at the vest. "I forgot to take off the vest, but I don't work here."
"Aha, so you are an off-duty employee. But the rules still apply to you. Give me your name right this minute."
"No thank you." And with that, I side-stepped around her and hurried on my way. This made her absolutely furious.
"Come back here. I'm not through with you. Oooo, you are in so much trouble."
My first job was working in a Theme park, and I enjoyed serving people and making them smile all day. But I also had to take a lot of crap from haughty, mean-spirited, nasty people who would look down their nose at me. As an "ex-employee", I refuse to subject myself to such nonsense. As I walked away from this bitchy woman, I smiled contentedly.
On Friday, I left Jacksonville in a rental car and drove to Orlando in a terrible rainstorm. Whipping wind and blinding rain made it a slow drive, and I got a headache out of the bargain. I was going to meet an old friend who works at Walt Disney World for dinner, but since I arrived hours before she got off work, I decided to go see a movie at Pleasure Island. They have a huge AMC 24-plex theater right there on Disney property, and I was debating what I wanted to see.
I walked purposefully through Downtown Disney under my umbrella, when a very haughty woman called to me, "Young man, young man. I need you to take me to where I catch the bus back to my hotel."
I shrugged and kept on walking. "Sorry, I can't help you."
The woman hurried over and stood in my path. "I beg your pardon, but you can at least tell me where the bus is."
"I have no idea. Have a nice day."
But she would not get out of my way. And her attitude went quickly from stuck up to hostile. "You will tell me what I want to know right away because you are required to."
"Listen ma'am, I do not have the information you require, and I'm running late, so--"
"How dare you! You cannot speak to me that way."
"Gotta go."
She held her own umbrella out to block my passage. "I don't like your sass. You are a worthless little man and barely worth my time. You are moronic and incompetent, and I just don't like anything about you. I am going to report you."
"Go ahead."
"I mean it. I intend to report that you were rude, impudent and sarcastic."
"Good, I encourage you to do so."
"What is your name?"
"I'm not telling."
"You absolutely must give me your name. I know the Disney rules, and as an employee you have to comply."
"I don't work here."
"Don't be an idiot, of course you do."
"Nope, I don't."
"But you're wearing the yellow vest, that means you're an employee."
I looked down at the vest. "I forgot to take off the vest, but I don't work here."
"Aha, so you are an off-duty employee. But the rules still apply to you. Give me your name right this minute."
"No thank you." And with that, I side-stepped around her and hurried on my way. This made her absolutely furious.
"Come back here. I'm not through with you. Oooo, you are in so much trouble."
My first job was working in a Theme park, and I enjoyed serving people and making them smile all day. But I also had to take a lot of crap from haughty, mean-spirited, nasty people who would look down their nose at me. As an "ex-employee", I refuse to subject myself to such nonsense. As I walked away from this bitchy woman, I smiled contentedly.
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