Merry Christmas

May this day forward find you much like the car above, renewed, bright and shiny in the love of Christ. Happy birthday Jesus! Merry Christmas to one and all.

(photo by me at the Fillmore Car Show, July 4 08)

Egg Nog

As the car approaches the street it is bathed in the warm glow of Christmas lights strung on all the houses down the block. It is a beautiful display of the spirit and joy of the holidays. You can see Frosty on brilliant display beside Santa. A huge snowflake is centering a huge yard full of candles and peppermint canes and elves dressed in red and a flock of reindeer waiting to pull a sleigh. Lights are also strung over the roadway from house to house. Sounds of Christmas songs fill the air. This is gonna be great for the granddaughter.

The car parks in front of Frosty where a space has opened up by the leaving of another family. Grandpa gets out and goes to get his granddaughter out of her car seat. Her eyes are big with wonder and delight and her smile makes Grandpa's heart skip a beat. He remembers his son at this age. Same big eyes and smile. Grandpa wipes away a joyful and love filled tear. He lifts his 4 year old granddaughter into his arms. Closing the car door he turns to his wife and all three look up and down the street at the displays. Their faces are shining. Grandpa reaches for Grandma's hand. Life is good.

They spend the next hour examining the displays. The little girl giggled for almost the whole of it. The grandparents laughed and reminisced. The lights dazzled. The moving displays of all sorts went through their routines without fail. The night air cold and the night sky clear. No white Christmas in Southern California this year. At least this night.

The last two houses they visited were the most magnificent of them all. Besides the light displays they held something very special, personal involvement of the families that lived in them. The first house occupants dressed as the Holy Family with baby Jesus in the manger and live farm animals all around. Even the Three Wise Men stood in adoration. "Away in a Manger" played softly from strategically placed yard speakers. The young granddaughter clapped her small hands together and giggled with glee.

The final house had the usual light displays but they provided snacks and beverages. Most did not know how thirsty and hungry you get walking around being amazed and thrilled by the lights and sounds of Christmas. Or how far you have walked. Grandpa and Grandma get a paper cup of egg nog with cinnamon sprinkled onto the top while the granddaughter got a cup of cold milk and a chocolate chip cookie. The movie crowd really know how to celebrate Christmas.

Later, traveling back to Fillmore through Grimes Canyon to return the very tired girl back to her parents, Grandpa has a massive heart attack and dies behind the wheel. The car plunges down the embankment. All perish in the crash.

Four and a half months later the family serving drinks and snacks were arrested for murder. They were fanatical Muslim and the egg nog was spiked with poison. They managed to poison many that night.

Merry Christmas.

The Parting

8:34

The little blue LED's of the clock showed the time.

8:34

Is that AM or PM?

8:34

A clock.

It is not my clock.

This is not my room.

To cold and damp.

And dark except for the glow.

From the clock.

My head hurts.

Really hurts.

Where am I?

My eyes adjust to the blue gloom.

Not much to see.

Bare floor.

Blank walls.

Single door in front of me.

No light escaping past the door.

Feet tied to the front legs of the chair.

Hands tied behind my back.

To the chair back as well.

My head hurts.

I'm tired.

8:34

How long have I been out?

8:34

My eyes adjust quickly now.

My head feels better.

I sweep the room with my eyes.

Blue gloom is all there is.

O!

A plate of food.

On a table right in front of me.

Close enough to lean over to eat.

With just my mouth.

Tiring. Rest.

8:34

Shake my head to release the cobwebs.

8:34

How is it the clock only shows 8:34?

I sweep the room again.

Table gone.

No food.

Try to see behind me.

Strain and strain.

Tiring.

8:34

Not again.

What day is it?

Who am I?

I sweep the room.

Table.

Food almost all eaten.

How?

I sweep my tongue across my lips.

Crumbs.

What is that?

A roach.

On the plate.

On the table.

The bug moves.

It jumps off the table.

It scurries across the floor.

To the door.

It squeezes under the door.

The cockroach is gone.

8:34

Why?

The Drive

This is NOT running away. No way. It is buying time to think. THAT is what it is. No more. No less.

Sure.

Let's back up here. Start from the beginning. What a lousy day this turned out to be.

First, the alarm clock decides to go on vacation. Out to breakfast or something. So, I'm late for work. Again.

Second, my desk! Shoulda stayed home. What a pile of dung. And I wasn't talking about the paper. I mean the boss sitting on it waiting for me to arrive. Stupid alarm clock.

Third, while I'm out to lunch, finally, the car goes bonkers. In to the garage for a few hours. No one will come get me. The hell with it, I'm taken the rest of the day off. So there.

With the car finally repaired and my wallet less heavy, I head to the nearest market, buy a 12 pack of beer and some munchies, and off I go. No place in particular. Just ride.

I've been driving for several hours now. Hell, more like 4 and a half. Driving relaxes me. Don't know why I did not get myself a big rig years ago and earn my way on the road. I just love to drive. Or have a job testing Goodyears coast to coast. Someone does that I hear. Or driving RV's from the plant to the retailer or directly to the owner. Yep, that exists as well. Man, the freedom of the road. Time to think. No one breathing down your neck. Hey, what's that jerk?

I look down at the dash and there's a red warning light trying to get my attention. Wonder if it was yellow before it was red. Humm. O crap, another jerk. Engine dies. O crap. Pull off to the shoulder of the road.

I let the dust settle before I open the door to assess the problem. It's dark out now. Starlight. No moon. Wow, where did I drive to now? Open desert that's for sure. Lot's of that around LA. I'm probably in the high desert somewhere near Mojave. When I let the car just wander on it's own this is where I usually end up. I meander around the car but can't see a thing in the starlight. Best take a tour of the car's trunk to see want I have in there.

No flashlight. Great. No spare either. No flat either. Good. No tools except a rusty flat blade screwdriver. Might come in handy to stab myself. Great.

I go back into the cabin of the car. Let's see what I got in here. The glove box has all the usual stuff you'll never use in a lifetime. Like the owner's manual. Trip booklet. Wadded up kleenexes? Must be my girl friends. And a melted what's it? Eeewwwuuuw. Sticky. No flashlight. Great. I do have 7 beers left from the 12 pack. GREAT. And a bag of those disgusting yellow horn things. What was I thinking? The back seat is bare as the desert outside. No cell phone. NO CELL PHONE! So, I check under the driver's seat. I pull out a wrapped cigar. An expensive one at that. Saint Luis Rey. No Swisher Sweet this. Wooo Hooo! The car's cigarette lighter don't need gas to light this baby. And that's the problem. I ran out of gas. Dope.

So, I push the cigarette lighter all the way in, grab one of the beers, still cold, and the bag of horns. By the time I got the wrapper off the cigar the lighter popped out ready to ignite the end of it. That first drag was so good. So good. Well, no need to waste the stars outside. I open the door and exit with the lit cigar chomped between my teeth, the beer in my left hand, and supper of horns in my right.

Wow, the stars are so bright. And so many away from the glare of LA. The cigar drags well. I take a swig of beer. Pop a few horns in my mouth. Heck, they ain't all that bad. So now what. I can sleep well enough in the back. Someone will be by in the morning. Hey, it ain't so bad after all. I settle my right elbow onto the left front fender and pull another drag of smoke. Not bad at all.

The big cat saw an opening and leaped across the hood of the car. His right paw, with claws extended, grabbed the relaxed man by his right shoulder, digging the claws in deep. The cat quickly dragged his prey across the top of the hood and into the dark on the right side of the car. Then the cat ripped out the throat with his powerful teeth and jaws. His prey lay lifeless.

Then the cat caught another smell, so powerful he had to leave his kill to investigate. He found the bag of horns. HORNS. Hell yeah! What a day! Woo Hoooo!

The Circus

In the spring of '09 I was contracted to bring the Big Top AC units to Miami FL from Houston TX for the Circo Hermanos Vazquez. The tent was set up in Bicentennial Park next to the American Airlines Arena where the Miami Heat NBA team plays. I was told by one of the circus managers that H. Vazquez was the 3rd largest circus in America. Click here for the circus website.

Seeing the big top lowered at 2 in the morning of the day I was loaded in Houston was a sight I will not forget. To me what looked like chaos was truly a well orchestrated dance. Every member of the crew had a part to play and in a specific time to do it. All done in a cacophony of Spanish that sounded more like a song than anything else. By the time my trailer was loaded and it was properly lashed down for the trip it was near 4:30. I decided to leave and get a few miles under the truck before I stopped to rest.

The trip across country was quite uneventful. That is a good thing for a trucker.

Upon arrival in Miami I found myself to be the first of the big loads to arrive. That surprised me since I expected the other trucks to go by me somewhere along the trip as I was well out of travel sync with them. I was hoping for someone to be there before me so that if I got into trouble then they would only be a CB call away. Luckily, the GPS was dead on, the roads in downtown Miami are fairly wide, and the traffic was light. It could be because the Port of Miami entrance is the major intersection at the American Airlines Arena.

Soon the rest of the trucks arrived with various equipment, props for the shows, concessionaire trailers and the animals. The first thing to be unloaded was the big top itself and the AC units off my trailer. Again, the crew went about their business quickly and proficiently. Now I had plenty of time to explore downtown Miami because by law I had to rest for the next 34 hours. Reset the clock.

Across the street was a building that a local told me was called the Freedom Tower. The beauty of the building is undeniable. It has a rich history. I did not take the time to explore it. My loss. Next time in Miami it will be on my itinerary.

The Bayside Marketplace was also nearby. Featuring many unique stores and places to eat. In the courtyard a one-man band played for change and dollars. Squirrels and small birds ate the leftovers at Forest Gump. Tourists gladly stood in front of the largest mangrove tree in Florida to have portraits taken. Along the boardwalk one could take a ride in the fastest tourist boat around,
The Thriller power boat. Of course the people watching was just outstanding! ;-)

I had a grand time in Miami but it wasn't making me money. Back on the computer in the Pete I was fortunate to find a great paying load to Minneapolis MN. Talk about a contrast!

And that's the goodness of being a long haul trucker. I've seen all of the lower 48. This is a magnificent country. Hopefully, you too will get a chance to explore it.

(all photos were taken by me)

O Glorious Pond Scum!

Time. Time in a bottle. Tick Tock. When did time start? When will it end? Is it energy? If it is energy does it follow the Laws of Thermodynamics? Or is it just the natural flow of measurement that only humans can determine? I bet your pet can tell time. Just forget to put out their meal. You'll hear about it.

The reason for all this time discussion is because I've been reading up on the Theory of Evolution. That theory of science, a fact some will say, postulates that humans are direct descendants of the apes. Not one in particular I suppose. Just apes. I can look at some folks in my family and I know some are from Orangutans. How some are even a part of my clan I ain't gotta clue. Naturally if everything evolved from blue-green algae then nothing should be surprising.

The fanatical evolutionists, and they be teaching our childrens in the schools, mostly public schools, are just so close minded. It is the way they say it is, no matter the obvious flaws in the theory. No more discussion on this issue. Kinda reminds me of the no more talk about man-made global warming. These fanatics certainly don't believe in intelligent design. God? Are you kidding me? they might ask. Just repeat after their mantra: O glorious pond scum! Well, ya's gotta believe in something, why not blue-green algae pond scum?

Energy can not be created or destroyed. Or something along those lines. You can't create something from nothing. Heck, we humans can't create a simple grain of sand. The universe is all energy in one form or another. So, how did it create itself? Where did all this energy come from? Something had to create it. Was it pond scum that created it? An intelligent designer maybe? God.

There are many chicken-egg questions that evolutionists can not answer. One of my favs is this one from an introduction to Darwin's book recently re-issued by Bridge-Logos in Alachua FL:

Can you explain which came first—the blood
or the heart—and why? Did the heart in all these different
species of fish, reptiles, birds, and mammals evolve before
there were blood vessels throughout their bodies? When did
the blood evolve? Was it before the vessels evolved or after
they evolved?

If it was before, what was it that carried the blood to the
heart, if there were no vessels? Did the heart beat before the
blood evolved? Why was it beating if there was no blood to
pump? If it wasn’t beating, why did it start when it didn’t
know anything about blood?

If the blood vessels evolved before there was blood, why
did they evolve if there was no such thing as blood? And if the
blood evolved before the heart evolved, what was it that kept
it circulating around the body?

Looks like another well crafted job by our intelligent designer; God.

Now, when someone tells you that there is no need for further discussion, don't take no for an answer. Don't let the evolutionist Luddite cow you into a corner. They don't have all the answers. Heck they ain't even got most of the answers. Our intelligent designer has all the answers. God.

The Fire

California is diverse if nothing else. Northern has the quiet overlay of fog. Southern has the outrageous whine of the Santa Ana winds. North has the genteel and giant Redwoods. South has the hot and blinding sand. All of California has abundant sun and surf and snow, and mountains, don't forget the mountains.

One other perennial that California has that seems not to plague other States is wildfire, that is, a set your clock annual event on a massive scale. They can be set naturally, as this year of 2009 in Northern California, by lightning. Over 2000 fires were set that way this Spring. In Southern California the fires are mostly set by arsonists. These people, and they can be teens or criminals hiding other crimes or even firemen looking for hero worship, time their destruction by the Santa Ana winds. Sometimes a careless act at a BBQ will set off a conflagration.

All of this about fires and California the Red-Tailed Hawk could care less. She had a brood to feed. The morning sun had not peeked over the east mountains of the Los Angeles Basin as yet. The colors were quickly progressing through the midnight purples to the royal blues to the lighter columbian blues to reach through the early red oranges and bright pinks to arrive finally at the yellow brilliance of morning. To finish the canvas before the hawk's eyes were the clouds adding even more beauty by reflecting the light so all who saw it could only OOO and AHH. It was truly becoming a Rembrandt entrance to a most powerful day. The keen eyed hawk ignored the beauty. She was looking for breakfast.

The hawk serenely scanned the brush clinging to the hillsides and down into the ravines around her high perch upon the tower supporting the high tension lines feeding the San Fernando Valley communities. She was looking for vermin, field mice and rabbits in particular. Something easy to catch and not likely to put up much of a fight and thus injure her. If a wandering Western Diamond Back rattlesnake should appear it was fair game as well. The hawk took note of the rising wind only briefly. She spies a cotton-tailed rabbit amongst the brushes 50 yards and downwind of her. The rabbit won't know what hit him. The hawk spreads her wings for flight.

The Post

Uhh. Huhh. Uhhh. Catch your breath. Uhh. Huhh. Uhh. Doggone it breath in through the nose, deep now. Blow slowly through the mouth, silently. Again. Again. There now it is working. Heart beat down. More shallow breathing. Again.

I'm in the shadows of a building at 1st and Main. The shadows are deep because the night is without starlight or moonbeams and the street lamps have been dead for some time. I slide down the wall to rest. Drawing my knees to my chest I wrap my arms around them to rest my head on the cushioning lower arms. I close my eyes. Breathing almost normal now. I am completely invisable.

After a few more minutes in this position I raise my head. Opening my eyes I find it is still dark. I decide to take a peak around the corner of the building. Let's see now, should I stand? No No. I think in CSI or was it NCIS, no not them, it was Bruce Willis in one of those Die Hard movies. Stay low. Then peek as fast as you can taking in as much as your eyes can gather. I do and see nothing. Good.

It's a good night so far. I was able to get a few items on the list. Reaching into a very large pocket in my pants I withdraw the night's haul. Wrapped in newspaper I hold 2 uncooked weiners. A great find them. Reaching again into the pocket my hand falls onto an apple. An apple! Woo Hoo. But the greatest find of all, by far, is what comes out next, a bottle of ASPIRIN!

Suddenly a most intense pain above my right eye, a blinding flash, and then blackness.

O man, I hurt. Feels like someone tranplanted a grapefruit behind my right eye. I reach with my right hand to feel the swelling. It's tied! I try my left hand. It's tied as well! Wait a minute, I'm sitting in a chair. What the hay is this? I slowly open my left eye, the right is swollen almost shut. I don't like what I see.

Before me, dressed in the black patent leather some cronies wife thought cute, sat a big man behind a folding table. He is talking to me. I better try to make out what he is saying through my pain.

"You have been caught red handed with stolen contraband. The food items would have gotten only few years in the prison. The aspirin however brings a more onerous penalty. Death."

What! You can't! I was also gagged. He could not hear my protests.

"By the powers invested in me by our great and benevolent leader, you are to be shot at dawn."

The smiling face of President Barack Hussein Obama beams over the right shoulder of the big man.

"Take the prisoner away."

The next morning before sunrise I'm given bread and water. No need to waste a good meal on one not long for this world. Two guards come later and take me to the yard outside the building. I'm led to the post, the killing post in the middle of the courtyard. I kneel at the base. The two guards tie my hands behind the post at my back. They offer me a blindfold. I refuse.

Before me are four men, one to give commands and the others to fire the rifles. It is a few more minutes to go now, the sun not ready to peek above the roof of the courthouse, the signal to commence. A cigarette is offered to me. Where in the heck did they get that in this world of do's and don'ts? I don't.

The sun peeks above the roofline. The command is given; Ready! The second command is given; Aim! I don't hear the third command. I see a flash from the gun barrels. Then . . . Blackness . . . eternal blackness.

The Tree

The old man's hands rested comfortably on the kitchen table. At 86, these hands had done a great deal of living. The age spots, which started appearing 40 years before and looked like tiny islands dotting the South Seas, have grown to continent size and portended the nearing end of life. Swollen now with arthritis and good food and the ancient scars from battles with car engines only added to their patina of life lived large. If only these hands could talk.

They would tell the tale of caressing and holding the old man's spouse. She died quietly in the night just over a year before. The hands missed her. They missed touching the silky smooth skin and luxurious hair. Holding her face between them. Lord she was so beautiful. Sixty five years of a shared life held many memories.

The hands would tell of the wonder of holding the tiny hands of the first born son newly out of the incubator in the hospital. The devastation of holding someone's pet rabbit that had escaped the cage but not the teeth of a dog or possibly a coyote and it went through the death throes prior to breathing its last breath. The thrill of feeling the wind fill the sails of the sailboat as it began the race to the Channel Islands off the coast of Santa Barbara CA. The weariness at the end of chaining, strapping and tarping a load in the wintry chill of St. Charles MO. So much life felt.

The old man finally stirred himself out of his reverie. He picked up his coffee cup and drained the dark coffee. He was so tired. His breathing labored. The time is near now for his departure from this life, a life that was not always kind. He stood up carefully, his hips and knees almost useless now with age, and pushed the chair away as he left the table for the last time. No one was there to help him and he wanted it that way. He headed out the back door of his small house onto the porch. No dog greeted him. No cat rushed to trip him. All was gone now. He was alone.

The trip across the yard and into the trees beyond would be the last hard scrabble work to do. It took him over an hour to get to the spot, the spot of his choosing, because of his slow and deliberate movements. The old man did not want to fall short of his goal. He brought neither food nor drink for this journey. No medicines to ease his pain. This would be the final journey of his long life.

The old man found the tree. He slowly lowered his old body down to the ground at the base of the tree and rested his back against the rough bark. His breathing was hard from the labor but it finally calmed down to a shallow repetition. He closed his eyes.

Sometime later, much later because the sunlight was weak in the trees, the old man noticed a presence. He opened his eyes. Before him was a large brown buck. Looked like he was sporting a 10 point antler. The deer began sniffing the old man at his feet and slowly worked the black nose up the body till it reached the bulbous nose of the old face. The eyelids popped wide open and he stepped back smartly as if the old man had hit him in the nose. The deer lowered his head to look the old man square in the face as if to insure of what he had just sniffed. The old man had no more strength left to move.

The muscular buck raised his head high, all the while keeping a wary eye on the old man. The buck stood there for some time. Then he quickly thrust an antler through the heart of the old man.

Bambi never forgot.

You Want To Be A Health Insurer

Well, you have decided that what you really want to do in life is insure people for their health. You have done due diligence by researching the market and by golly you want some of all that money the big execs get. Yessiree, that's for you. Ummm, maybe.

First of all, it is one HIGHLY regulated industry. The Feds have all kinds of rules to control your enthusiasm for profits. And what they don't do the individual STATE has their own set of rules to follow. Ug, all that paperwork. Adds to the overhead.

Second, it is gonna take one huge chunk of change to get started. Claims have to be serviced long before you get enough from premiums to pay for that, which in fact, they NEVER do. You best be one heck of a good investor as well.

Third, you really want to put up with all the complaining and Congressional subpoenas before cameras just to slam your good name you once had? Really?

Finally, the Government now wants to compete with you! Let's see how that works. They make all the rules. They print all the money. They can operate at a loss for years, decades, hell, centuries!

Better not go into this business after all. It'll just be single payer, the tax payer pays and pays and pays. You have your good name to protect see?

The Flagpole

The light was almost gone now. The low slung and pregnant clouds could not be blamed for blocking the light. The sun was setting and was just winking a curvaceous slice of brilliance at the underbelly of the cloud cover. The reds and blood orange colors contrasted upon the black clouds and threw a few rays at the figure. The wind began to howl.

Upon the left cheek of the face of the figure a flash of almost neon red briefly escaped to the wind. The refracted light was quickly extinguished with the full setting of the sun. What had caused it? A closer look would have revealed a small tear. The figure was crying. His lower lip quivered ever so slightly. Dark descends on the land.

The man, the figure, continues his duties. The wind from the fast approaching front began to whip his pants legs. The rain would come soon. He had to hurry.

Suddenly a new light of brilliant yellows and platinum whites are cast upon the clouds. Again and again it happens before the first reports of the guns reaches the ears of the man at the flagpole. He shakes his head. He stamps his feet. He continues to strike the Colors from the flagpole. He has to complete his task. He is the last Patriot.

For you see, it is the army of the progressives attacking the last enclave of conservatives. Soon the enclave will be no more because there is no hope of getting reinforcements. The man at the flagpole will die tonight and the Colors will be struck as a free flag no more. The struggle for a free life is done.

The guns go silent. The army is successful. No more dissent will be heard. The quiet is deafening. Darkness covers the land. The new Dark Age begins.

The Biker

The ole Knucklehead started to sputter up the hill. Damn thought the rider. He quickly reached by his left leg to shift the bike to neutral using the jockey stick. The bike rolls to the shoulder of the road.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Out of gas again. The biker kicks the stand into place and leans the bike over. He swings his right leg over the bike and gets off. He swipes his right hand over his forehead to wipe away the sweat. Damn.

Looking back down the two lane road from where he just came he knows he passed a gas station 5 miles back. Passed it because he could not trust the place to be a "free" station. These days one had to be careful.

Shifting his gaze up the hill he could see that it would be about 200 yards to top the rise. Damn. He pushes the bike.

At the top he stops. He runs his left hand through the long beard. The wind from the ride twisted it into odd shape and full of bugs not able to get out of the way. His long hair is in the same shape. The hot afternoon desert sun was almost directly overhead. Sweat. Damn. He looks down the hill and sees another gas station. Well, at least the bike will coast to it with ease. The biker strides his bike and begins the coast to the station. Hope it's a free station.

The long haired biker coasts the bike to a bush on the side of the road about 40 yards from the station to hide it. He dismounts. On his side is a sawed off pump 12 gauge shotgun. Modified to hold 5 shells. He checks it to make sure it is fully loaded and places his right hand into an inside pocket in the left of his leather vest to make sure of the 5 shells there. He walks to the side of the gas station staying well out of sight of the windows there. A car sits out front of the station. Homeland Security. Damn. Could be Chinese agents. Trouble for sure.

No other cars. Good. To damn quiet. The biker reaches the side of the gas station. He peers inside the station. Chinese alright. Having their way with the lady owner, he guesses, of the station. Anger rises inside the biker. He walks to the front door. He isn't noticed.

The shotgun is at the ready. Buckshot shells. This will be very messy, but very effective. He kicks the door open. All three of the Chinese pukes are in line with their pants down forcing the lady to have sex. Not anymore. The first blast catches the nearest guard full in the chest. The next one turns to face his shot in the face. The last one was between the legs of the woman. Not a chance for him either. All dead. The woman is screaming. Shut up lady. Your trial is now over.

"You a free station?" asks the biker. "Yes, and thank you."

"I'll take these bodies way out back. The buzzards and coyotes and ants will make quick work of them. The car I'll ditch down into the canyon a ways back."

"How can I show my gratitude?" says the lady of the free gas station.

"Fill my bike and have something to eat and drink when I'm done. A Bud please."

Later the biker is ready to go. Bike full of gas. Belly full of sandwich and beer. The lady asks, "where you going? We could use you here."

"Going to Texas. Hear they still live free."

The biker kicks the bike over 3 times to make sure gas is in the carburetor bowl. Then he kicks it one more time and she fires. He places the bike in first gear. He winks at the gas station owner. And rides off to Texas.

The Portrait

The tall muscular orderly was pushing the old man on the gurney down the well lit white corridor of the hospital to the oven at the end. The hallway smelled of rubbing alcohol and death. The old man died just a few hours before. Others in the hallway on their gurneys lined both sides and they were on their way to the same fate as well. Old men and old women. The orderly called the corridor the Last Waiting Room.

At the beginning of the day the old man and his granddaughter had been in an automobile accident. The ambulance brought them both to the same hospital. The triages performed on the two were extensive. The health care counselor from the government had to be consulted.

Life saving procedures could have saved them both. The old man had the most damages from the accident. It was decided that the old man did not have enough time left to be productive. The granddaughter was deemed more valuable. The family did not have an input. They were just glad to have the girl. They would mourn the loss of the old man for awhile.

The granddaughter was wheeled into surgery immediately. She was not awake. She would learn of her grandfather's fate much later. She would cry.

The old man was wheeled to the Last Waiting Room. Visitors are not allowed in there. He was totally alone with the other old people. No feeding tubes or other means of life support is allowed. To help fray the cost of the new health care program bodies are cremated and mixed with fertilizers. Local farmers can then buy the product to nourish their crops. The government thinks of everything.

Just before the old man drew his last breath he opened his eyes. He did not know just where he was at first. When he realized he did not fuss. He thought it was very cold in the hallway and why couldn't they at least put a blanket on his torn body. The old man had been staring at the ceiling of the white corridor. So antiseptic he thought. He turned his head to see the opposite wall. His time was very near now. He saw the portrait then. A tear ran down his left cheek. He died.

High up the wall hung the portrait. High enough for the patients to see. Out of the frame a smiling face beamed on the people laying in their gurneys. The face belonged to President Barack Hussein Obama.

The Visit

The house was in a dark place. Surrounded by a bevy of Pine trees along the fence. Oleander bushes strategically placed as well. Constructed of wood and stucco, nothing about the house stood out. The front door was recessed about 3 feet and not lighted. In the center, about nose high for a short guy of 5' 7", a small rectangular opening, fitted with a slider, was the only remarkable feature of an otherwise unremarkable entrance. Windows were not featured on either side of the door.

The man stood directly in front of the slider. It sure is dark here. He pulled a small slip of paper from an inside coat pocket. It was given to him by his contact at the coffee shop a few miles away. From his left pants pocket he pulled out his Zippo. Striking it to life he examined the address on the slip of paper by the yellowish glow of the flame. This is the house. The man replaced the items into their respective pockets.

Taking a deep breath the man raised his right hand to the door and rapped 3 evenly timed raps and waited. The contact said not to be impatient. The occupant of the house would be checking surveillance systems. Give the house time. After a sweat filled time of in determent length the slider slid aside to reveal a set of steely brown eyes below heavy bushy brows and a whitish glow of incandescent lighting. The man outside the door took in a quick raspy breath.

The man, rattled, almost forgot what to do next. What was it? O yes, "Harry made me an appointment."

"Harry who?"

"Harry Hand"

The slider closed. The man was left in darkness again. Soon a lock was released on the house side of the door. The door opened wide. "Quickly enter now."

The man quickly entered. The door closed. The medical exam could now be done away from the prying eyes of the government health care system.

The Bug, The Spider, and The Walk

When I was diagnosed with pre-Diabetes, that is, a condition of Diabetes that can be totally controlled by a lifestyle change, I was given a choice of taking insulin via needles, tablets (a long shot for some reason), or lose as much weight as possible and change eating habits. Well, I chose the latter. I just love walking.

So, I chose a route near home of a 1 mile duration that involved lots of inclines for long distances and short runs of flats to rest. Putting together a routine where the walks could be done 3 times daily I managed to rid myself of over 50 pounds and the dreaded needle. Yep, good for me.

It took about 40 minutes to do the full 2 mile cycle so that gave plenty of time for thinking. How to do my business, which was not driving a truck at the time. How to care for different family needs, which were plenty at the time. How best to stay solvent, which I have yet to accomplish to this day.

One day, as I was deep in thought, I almost stepped on a pill bug. I noticed that this bug was having a hard time deciding whether I was a safety hazard or something that it could ignore and go about it's business. In other words, it hesitated. Apparently this bug was going to cross the sidewalk to get to the curb for whatever it's bug business had to be. The vibration of my footsteps caused it to stop and ponder.

Unbeknownst to either the pill bug or myself a far greater danger lurked in the shadows of the grass and small rocks and litter along the sidewalk on the side away from the roadway. A far greater danger to the pill bug than to yours truly I assure you. A danger in which the pill bug, I'm certain, would not have hesitated at my footfalls.

Out of the dark shadows sprang a form quick as lightning, fearless as a lion. Seeing that an opportunity for lunch had appeared and not fearing the footfalls of the giant just inches away from the pill bug, a very opportunistic spider grabbed his lunch, the hapless and timid pill bug. I swear to you that spider gave me one look as if to say, "this is my lunch buddy, you don't scare me, now back off!"

I stood there, amazed at what just took place before me. I felt bad for the pill bug but at the same time, I was jubilant at how the fearless spider ignored all the circumstances and took advantage of the situation. It was inspirational.

You may ask in what way could this episode be inspirational. Let me explain. How many times in life have you hesitated to do something. I know I am still affected by indecision. I have acted like a pill bug way to many times. Hesitation has caused me to lose money. Lots of money. Missed opportunities can never be gotten back. Would it not be better to live life like a spider? Strike when the opportunity is there. Strike when all odds may seem against you. I done a little of that. And I like it. Heck, I even made a few bucks. Just wish the Washington DC crowd would be grabbed by a spider or two.





(pill bug, sidewalk, spider photos from internet searches)
(photo of swamp by author)

A Future Tale

The day is hot. Very hot. The wind has even gone to find shade. Not much stirring around the truck this afternoon. To damn hot.

The night is a different story. The night is active to what the day is not. It is the sun that has found a place to rest. Night is for the dangers.

The Peterbilt has been parked in this lonely spot since it ran out of diesel. No money to replenish the tanks. Hell, there ain't no diesel to replenish them with anyhow. The refiners moved offshore years ago. Driven away by the loonies. It's a bad thing to use carbon based fuels. I guess. And with them went the gasoline as well. Now the Pete stays hot during the day because the useless Honda generator can't power the window A/C unit. That was bought to conserve the big Cummins motor, which also conserved fuel consumption and helped clean the environment, and, o who cares now.

I remember as a child the stories from my parents and their friends and from the older people in their 70's and 80's about how tough it was to get through life in the Depression Years. No shoes. Hungry most of the time. Working long hours for little money. But there was hope. Hope in the children getting ahead. Making it better over time. People helping each other off the bottom of poverty as best they could. Hope in progress.

That has all been turned upside down. Society is regressing. Seems we are going back to the past even faster than it was to escape it. Just ain't right.

Gotta get ready for the night. Hope is that the lethargic sleep of the afternoon heat will be enough. The Pete really gets pounded at night by the starving waifs looking for food. Not much left now. Hell, it's all gone. With no trucks moving produce and no farms producing it anyway, people are desperate. People of today haven't a clue as to how to grow food and milk cows and churn milk. They were taught how to have self-esteem in school. Really comes in handy now. Have to leave the truck to get to my safe place before it gets to dark.

I have to find something to eat as well. I'm better prepared to get it than most.

Near Death Experience

It must have been near midnite, yeah, it must have been near midnite. The full moon was casting silvery milky beams onto the blacktop. The white broken lines were reflecting the moonbeams iridescently back onto the truck. One after the other, like a parade of flattened Pixie Sticks. Must have been near midnite.

The day had been a long one. The load was delayed till after noon, when the unfiltered Sun could beat a man down, wring the last bit of sweat and call for more. Any other time and the driver would not have taken the load. This wasn't like any other time. These times now are tough. Can't afford to turn down work. No sir, can't turn down work.

There was a day in this land when all you had to do to make it was to dream. You want to be a pilot? Go do it. You want to farm? Go do it. You want to own a house and a fancy car? Go do it. That's not to say that doing is easy. Nope. Never was. Never will be. Life is hard. Life ain't fair. And no amount of government will change that. But what government can change is your dreams. Take them away and bury them. Sweat them out of you like a noonday Sun!

Finally the load is on. Tarped for protection from the other motorists sharing the long road ahead. It would be days before the destination would be achieved. Days of monotonous driving. Days of wonder. Days of unknown problems. Days of challenges. There in lies the wonder of the road. There in lies the last frontier of the promise of America.

The driver and his beloved Pete are just scraping by. New tires, new trailer brakes, new this and new that have taken away the safe harbor of rainy day funds. Now it is down to hope and a prayer that things will stay together long enough till better days are here again. Now it is up to an economy that has cratered in the last few months. Too many trucks after too few goods. Now it is out of the hands of even the most driven man or woman.

Yeah, it must have been near midnite. The driver failed to see the twisted black ominous dregs left upon the lane after a retread tire gave up the task. The left steer tire caught a corner of the wasted retread and threw it toward the center of the truck, breaking an oil line. The explosive sound alerted the driver to the impending disaster ahead, one that can't now be avoided.

The speeding drivers on the passenger side of the Pete catapulted the waste fiercely under the loaded trailer. The spent retread skimmed the surface of the road like a devilish black surfer out for mayhem. And the dual set of overburdened trailer tires on the driver side of number 4 axle was the surfer's target.

Direct hit! The duals exploded with gusto! Pieces of both tires sprayed the underside of the trailer and left shrapnel for the following duals to run over and become victims themselves. The trailer sagged to the ground, shifting the weight. Quick to action, the driver began counter measures. Slowing the rig. Applying brake and shifting down. One strong arm handling the steering while the other strong arm handled the gearing. The rig was safely brought to a stop at the side of the road.

Yeah, it must have been near midnite. After the smoke and dust cleared the driver surveyed the damage. The load stayed secure. The truck needed minor repairs. The trailer was in good shape. Tires were another story. Looked like near $5,000 in roadside work. The driver laid his weary head upon his arms that were draped over the steering wheel. Glad to be alive. But this latest fiasco would mean the end of his business. Well. Let's wait for sunrise.


(Photos by author)

Or Is It?

It's been almost a full 3 weeks since I've been on the road. Time spent resting, blogging, facebooking and so on. Catching up on local news in the town. Basking in the sometimes hot mostly cool days of Fillmore. And once in awhile out and about seeking employment.

Geez, it's tough out there. Unemployment in California is double digit statewide and at Depression Era numbers in most locales, which can range as high as 38%! Dire times indeed.

So, just what to do.

Inspecting elephant behinds is definitely out of the question. I can't imagine I would ever get so down as to do a job like that. Now, I've been known to shovel crap. I've been known to deliver adult diapers. I've even been known to sell life insurance! Come to think of it, that ain't much different than being an elephant butt inspector!

I went to the two local banks seeking a collateral loan, a small amount, to get the Pete and me back on the road. I was turned down. They said my credit rating is bad. I knew that moron. That's why I wanted a collateral loan, not one based on my signature. There was a time when a bank would only give you a collateral loan. No wonder we as a country are in such a mess. Banks don't want to loan, even when the loan is a no brainer. So, now what.

Just keep on keeping on is the saying. I am looking into some sort of ebusiness. One idea is to sell how to articles from how to books on building shelves or fixing your screens or tuning your car or changing a light bulb or fixing a toaster or . . . heck you get the idea. Each article for only a buck! Folks will need to keep and fix what they got from now on. Also, I'm talking with several other folks about a start up I have in mind, but that will take investment money. Got irons in the fire ya know.

Finally, I will go to the limit of credit that I do have if need be to get back on the road. I have confidence in what I can do. The Pete and I are a team and I have the mindset of rugged individualism to carry me through these times. I just don't think I'll get a job feeding hummingbirds anytime soon.

(Phot0 of author by author. Other photos from emails, photographers unknown.)

End Of The Road

Well, where to start. So much has happened since the last post, both to me personally and to the nation. It has become painfully clear that for now the nation and myself have come to the end of the road.

My trucking days are now over. No more glad tidings from the road. My expenses have overrun my invoices. O the truck is fine mechanically. New clutch. New carrier bearing. Good rubber on tractor and trailer. New brakes on trailer. And there in lies my problem, no money to pay for insurance which totally puts me out of business. Gosh, it was a good run. I pray that I sell the truck soon.

I have been lucky to see this country in all its glory in all the seasons. The Fall Colors of New England. The fog creeping over the Golden Gate Bridge in San Francisco. Dust Storms blowing across El Paso TX into the border town of Juarez Mexico. A sultry early morning Tee Time in Houston. The sea crashing into the Northwest shores. Yes, I have been lucky.

Unfortunately, as my luck has run out, so has the country's. The Grand Experiment that the Founders put together is dead. The Constitution is dead. State's Rights are dead. Property Rights will soon be dead. Capitalism has been defeated. Socialism and all its ill effects has descended on us all. We just don't know what flavor socialism at this time. I fear it will be Communism.

The demise of these United States of America began when Abraham Lincoln forced the Southern States back into the Union. He dealt the Constitution a blow from which it never recovered. Lincoln tore the Constitution in half when State's Rights were abolished by the point of a gun. By the turn of the 20th Century the Progressives had put the States on the path of socialism, championed by Teddy Roosevelt. Roosevelt's cousin, Franklin, finished the job. Concurrently, the schools became national incubators for the Left. Today, our children have not ever lived as totally free as children in 1830. Think about that for awhile. No one alive today has ever lived as free as a child in 1830.

I know, some will think that as long as it was a white child, all was great in 1830. But that is one narrow view. The Great Plains had thousands of very free Indians. Anyone, even slaves of the Antebellum South could open a store and sell goods. Or offer a service to the community. Anyone. Today, there are all sorts of regulations that have to be followed and obeyed. We are not an unregulated society. And a regulated society is a socialist society.

Which is a far cry from a LAWFUL society. One where elected officials pass laws that allow for the free flow of goods, services and labor. One where the business field is level. Not fair. Level. One must be allowed to fail. Only when society believes that outcomes must be the same are regulations paramount. You can't be better than the next guy. We all must have the same things, whether you earn them or not.

Well, to finish up this post, I am glad to report that I am still successfully leaving the pounds off. It has been near 3 years since I lost 50 fatty pounds, though I have gained back from time to time 10 to 15 of them. Today I am at 175 by my bathroom scales. And that is a lot better than the 220+ when I got started. I am going to take this blog into a new direction. Stay tuned!

View Master

"Let's go for a ride!"

"Where to?"

"O, I don't know. How about pointing the wheel East."

"OK"

That's how I feel when I start out in the Pete on another trip across this great land. Ya know, like a little kid on vacation. Going to discover new and wondrous things. It is just gravy to get paid to do it as well.

Check out the photos I've taken. Read the captions so you know just where these places are. Then go discover this land yourself. Take photos, OK?

(All photos by author)

Stimulus with a T

I have a question: when was the last time YOU took a homeless person to lunch? How about just buying that person a Happy Meal for them because they aren't allowed in the store? Or when was the last time you sat down with someone unknown and listen to their story? Well, I guess that was more than one question afterall.

I do these things on a regular basis, not to toot my Peterbilt horn, but to only say that I like to be on a personal basis with my giving. The personal touch, ya know? The person receiving is so much more helped with self-esteem issues when you are there with your helping hand reaching out for theirs. The person giving is also elevated in spirit knowing that what they did caused someone else joy that is immediate and personal.

It is not hard to find someone in need. A whole lot of folks are facing issues they may never have faced before. Loss of a job, loss of housing, loss of toys. Life is tough right now. Whatever I can do I do. People just need to know that there is others out there that will help.

And not just government assistance. How depersonalized is that? Go to some office somewhere and stand in line with other less than enthusiastic people. Waiting to get a check from some faceless worker across a desk soiled with coffee stains and such. Getting the third degree of questions from some form or other made to make you feel awful. Hell, beat me with a stick.


Remember, the government is not the cavalry. It is better to take your lumps, learn the lesson, and move on. If you get the gov involved in your business, it ain't yours no more. The line of battleships coming over the horizon can be just as deadly for your cause as it is to help.

The so called stimulus bill just passed is not what is needed for our country. I've read some of it, and what I've read I don't like. It is a big payoff for democrat groups and not much help for the consumer. And at near a Trillion Dollars, we are all gonna be homeless as well as our children and grand children. Ouch!

So, my message is to suck it up, take your lumps, and let's help each other by reaching out on a personal basis. Get to know those around you. Talk with them. Have cookouts. Be like we were.



(All photos from the National Archives Online)

Tempest

This will be a different blog. Today I'll leave out tantalizing ways to lose and keep weight off. I won't bore you with Kincaid-like photos of this great country. No, today the winds of talk lead me to something entirely different.

And that is: where in the heck is this country going? We were once so firmly secured by family values, church, competition and vision. We looked to the horizon of endless fortune instead of looking at the toes of despair. Where yesterday was filled with ideas and today filled with activity and tomorrow reaped the results. Now, it seems we have collectively forgotten why this country came into being in the first place, individual freedom to make life the way we want it.

Change is a good thing in moderation and it continues a pattern of individual growth and freedom. Such as, getting the education needed to gain a skill to make more money. Such as, changing appearance from goth to business dress. Such as, changing an attitude of selfish-ness to an attitude of giving-ness. Done on a societal basis raises all our boats. It's contagious. You see your neighbor doing well will make you want to achieve also. This nation was built on this type of rugged individualism. I fear however that we are now in a different change.


A change so radical from our roots that it may lead to a more devasting change. We are now a nation of dependant victims. We have become who we are not by choice but by some injustice done to us. Lawyers and men in black robes now decide for us what we will need to be, not happy, but somehow equally disappointed. What kind of vision is that? Why would you want to give up the decisions that make your life the way you want it and give it to some unknown government worker in a cubicle in a grey and decrepit office building in a town far away? Is this the legacy given to us by the greatest generation of all? Is this why George Washington crossed the Delaware? The War for Southern Independance was fought to prevent a national government unfettered by State's Rights to force its will upon the citizens. The South fought for the Constitution.

Change is good. We now have a black president. Good. We all hope he is successful in all the areas that the Constitution allows a president to work. Secure our borders. Protect us from enemies both foreign and domestic. Protect and defend the Constitution. I firmly want him to fail in implementing policies that lead us all to a future of chained obeisance to a national government. That change is not good. That change leads to suffering. That change leads to mediocrity. That change may lead to, yes, armed revolt.

The United States became the greatest country ever seen because we freed the people to dream and to become the person they wanted to become unfettered by useless rules and laws. Free to invent the wares benefiting all of mankind; medicines, air conditioning, heating, indoor plumbing to mention a few. Incentives that made people rich but also advanced the well being of us all. I don't want to change that.

I'm betting that I'll not be alone after this storm of change has passed.