Going For A Ride

Wouldn’t it be nice to be a kid again? Just forget about the daily grind, the concerns and responsibilities that go along with being an adult. To laugh, to play, and relax. To just have fun.        

Had the opportunity to join my two-year-old grandson at a carnival this past weekend. My family, me included, love the rides. Even after I got older and the bumpy, jarring effects punish my body, I still like them. I just don’t get to go on them as much anymore. But, back to the grandkid.

His mother and I took him to ride the rides. He was so excited; he could hardly stand to wait in line. And when we got on the first ride, the Berry-Go-Round, he sat waiting for it to start with a serene look of happy anticipation. “This is going to be SO fun!” he said. And it was. As were the rest of the rides. We went on several. And no, he didn’t want to leave. Truth be told, neither did I, but with the high cost of amusement these days, we couldn’t afford to stay all day and night. See, there I am being an adult again; worried about paying for our adventure!

On our way back to the car, we saw, or actually, the grandkid saw, they were giving pony rides. Of course, he wanted to ride and yes, we let him—with grandpa walking alongside in case he forgot to hold on or suddenly decided something on the ground was more interesting. He was fine but you never know, the kid is only two after all.

It has been a few years since I’ve been to a carnival—my kids are no longer small and thus, I lost my excuse to go—and I’d forgotten how much fun it is. I’m not sure who had a better time, the grandkid, or me. (His Mom may just have been in the running too). But more than being fun, it was relaxing—and exhilerating at the same time. Rejuvenating. And, rather refreshing to forget about everything else and just have a good time. In a way, I guess I was a kid again—for an hour or two anyway! ~

Bruce A. Borders is the author of more than a dozen books, including: Inside Room 913, Over My Dead Body, The Journey, Miscarriage Of Justice, and The Wynn Garrett Series. Available in ebook at www.amazon.com/Bruce-A.-Borders/e/B006SOLWQS and paperback on Amazon, Barnes & Noble and Books-a-Million. Bruce A. Borders is a proud member of Rave Reviews Book Club.

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Fire Starter

I think I’m going to have to quit my job—so I can stay home and keep an eye on my wife. It may be the only way to keep my house intact. I might be only half serious but that half is what concerns me.

Got a call from her the other day and she told me she’d started another fire. Now, we don’t have a fireplace or a wood stove. The fire she started was in the oven. Problem is, we don’t have a wood cook stove either—just a normal electric range. And this was an actual fire. Another problem is, this isn’t exactly a new phenomenon. Over the years, she’s had a habit of creating some of the most unusual fires; for instance, the time she caught a pot of water on fire. Yep, water.

It had been a while since her last episode and I thought perhaps her firebug tendencies had abated. But, no. The bug had apparently just been lying dormant. Until the other day.

The fire in the oven was the element. That’s not good. Elements are, by design, not supposed to burn. The makers of our stove obviously haven’t met my wife. This one was definitely burning, she said—with flames.

At first, I thought it was probably only grease or food that had collected on the element and then burned off. But no, the element burned up and no longer works. So, I spent a few minutes finding the model number and then ordered a new one. In a few days, the stove will be good as new—and all ready for my wife!

I shouldn’t really be surprised, at her preclevity for burning things I suppose. After all, her name is Brenda, which means “firebrand.” I always assumed that was figurative and referred to her demeanor or readiness to “discuss” things passionately. But obviously, with her it is quite literal!

To be fair, she didn’t burn anything else and she got the fire out but, well, I’d still feel better if I could find a way to make money from home. It may not be safe to leave her alone! ~

Bruce A. Borders is the author of more than a dozen books, including: Inside Room 913, Over My Dead Body, The Journey, Miscarriage Of Justice, and The Wynn Garrett Series. Available in ebook at www.amazon.com/Bruce-A.-Borders/e/B006SOLWQS and paperback on Amazon, Barnes & Noble and Books-a-Million. Bruce A. Borders is a proud member of Rave Reviews Book Club.

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Overweight, Again

As regular readers of this blog know, I am a truck driver in my “real” life. I haul bulk garbage from the city to the desert in a semi, usually around 70,000 pounds per trip. And just in case anyone is wondering, that is a LOT of garbage. Fortunately, I do not dump it, or load it for that matter. All I do is drive the truck, drop the trailer, and then go get another load.

Due to sudden braking or other driving-related causes, the wet garbage can sometimes shift, and over the years, I’ve had my share of overweight fines. Normally, the loads are pre-weighed and legal—we don’t have to scale the truck, we just drive. If there is a problem, the company pays the ticket, since the driver has no way of knowing if the weight is legal or not. Because the company pays and the ticket doesn’t go on the driver’s record, we don’t really get too excited about it. The only thing I don’t like is that it costs me time. For some reason, the DOT is never concerned with my time, though.

About a week ago, I was thinking that it had been a while since I’d had a ticket. I shouldn’t have been thinking, I guess, because last Friday, I had the privilege of getting pulled into the scales on the freeway and then told to park and bring my papers—like I was in a foreign country or something. Once inside the building, I got to chat with the guy about how I was (apparently, single-handedly) responsible for the rutted condition of the roads. Nevermind the fact that if my company, or any company, wanted to haul more weight all they have to do is pay a little more money and the extended weight permit is amended to allow for whatever weight they want or need. So, it’s not really about the roads, but as most things with government are, it’s the money.

Okay, I’ll get off my soapbox and back to the story... Turns out, my entire truck was not overweight, just the drivers—the wheels on the tractor—they were 2,300 pounds over the limit. The trailer was about 3000 pounds underweight, which meant the load had obviously shifted. I was given a citation and instructed to legalize my load before leaving. Great! There was just one problem with that.

Most semis have the ability to move the weight around using sliding tandems or fifth wheels. The trucks at my job have neither. Which meant the only way for me to legalize my load was to back up as fast as I could get going and then slam on the brakes. This technique is sort of frowned upon by the DOT. Not that they care about the truck or the load, they are only concerned with the damage it may do to their lot! That didn’t concern me much; what I was concerned with is getting home on a Friday night. But as you can imagine, this method of moving the weight around is far from a scientific approach. It took several re-weighs before I was legal. Finally, an hour after pulling into the scale I was on my way.

But then, just before hitting the freeway, I HAD to hit my brakes—pretty hard too. And I felt the load come rushing back to the front of the trailer. So after an hour, and a citation, nothing had changed; I was right back to being overweight on the drivers! But I wouldn’t have done that on purpose—would I? ~

Bruce A. Borders is the author of more than a dozen books, including: Inside Room 913, Over My Dead Body, The Journey, Miscarriage Of Justice, and The Wynn Garrett Series. Available in ebook at www.amazon.com/Bruce-A.-Borders/e/B006SOLWQS and paperback on Amazon, Barnes & Noble and Books-a-Million. Bruce A. Borders is a proud member of Rave Reviews Book Club.

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My Happy Birthday

By the time anyone reads this it’ll be over but as I’m writing, it’s my birthday. My 49th birthday to be exact. Not that the number is too important. It’s not like a big milestone or anything.

I should preface this with clarifying that I had a good day and I really didn’t mind the events as much as this post might make it sound...  It started with being awakened by my two-year-old grandson. When he learned it was my birthday, he was ready for a party and extremely disappointed when we told him I wasn’t having one. “I will give you a party,” he said. I explained that after people get older they really don’t get gifts and have a party; that we do that for kids. The look he gave me said he thought that was not a very good plan but he went with it.

Later, one of my daughters, and an “adopted” daughter, announced their plans to take me to lunch. But first, my wife wanted to make a quick trip to the store. Everyone—except me—went with her; I stayed home to wait. That was taking quite a chance, women and shopping, you know!

But true to their word, they returned just a few minutes later. It was then I learned how my day was going to go.

In the back of the vehicle was a big box. Apparently, my wife had found a deal—a motorized kid’s car. The price tag said it was regularly $149.99 but it had been on sale. And at just $37.00, my wife couldn’t pass it up. She was happy she’d been able to make the purchase.

But me, I saw immediately what was printed on the box: “Contains 71 parts. Requires assembly.” The reason it was so cheap because the rest of the husbands had gone with their wives to the store and said, “Don’t buy that.” But I wasn’t there to issue the words of caution.

So, after a nice meal, we returned home and I set to work. The task went about as expected for a Made in China product; deciphering directions, figuring out what they meant by phrases like “the fastener,” and then figuring out how to really put it together when what they had didn’t work.

The process took about two and a half hours! But I did get it done and yes, it runs! Unfortunately, my grandson had to leave before it was finished. He’ll be back Monday evening and I’m sure he’ll be running the battery dead—about four hours according to the specifications. The bad part is, I’ll be at work. The good news is, my wife will be home and it will fall to her to chase the kid driving the car, until the battery gives out—in an estimated four hours! But maybe then she’ll reconsider next time she sees something to buy that requires assembly!

Oh, before my grandson left he felt compelled to inform me that even though I’d said I wouldn’t be getting presents, I DID get one—the car! I said the car was his. He so sweetly replied, “But YOU get to put it together!” Yeah. Happy Birthday to me! ~

Bruce A. Borders is the author of more than a dozen books, including: Inside Room 913, Over My Dead Body, The Journey, Miscarriage Of Justice, and The Wynn Garrett Series. Available in ebook at www.amazon.com/Bruce-A.-Borders/e/B006SOLWQS and paperback on Amazon, Barnes & Noble and Books-a-Million. Bruce A. Borders is a proud member of Rave Reviews Book Club.

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