Out Of Gas

The pump price of gasoline these days has had me thinking back to when I was a kid – during the so-called gas crunch of the seventies. Of course, there was no actual gas shortage then, as evidenced by the fact that over thirty years later, we’re using more of the stuff than ever. Back then, I remember thinking that if we really were running low on the supply of crude oil, why were they still manufacturing and selling cars that ran on gas?

Even though there was no legitimate shortage, by limiting distribution, a shortage was created – stations only received a certain allotment of gas and when it was gone, customers were out of luck. This led to the infamous long gas lines in the seventies. If you are too young to remember, this went on for months. It was during this time that my family took a trip from Oregon to Missouri, as we did nearly every year. The difference was that usually, there was no gas shortage problem. Most of our journey that year was uneventful, except for one minor incident.

At the time, gas stations throughout the western United States were not nearly as plentiful as they are now. Gas stops had to be planned well in advance because it might be hundreds of miles to the next station. Not filling up where you should could lead to being stranded in the middle of nowhere.

On the way to Missouri, we’d driven well into the evening and the tank was running low. Knowing that once we’d left the area we were in, there’d be no more gas for quite a distance, my dad was earnestly looking for a place to fill up. But, all the stations were closed. So, with no other choice, he parked at a station and we waited, our family of four all in the car, hoping that the next morning we could be on our way.

I’m sure it was a little nerve racking and upsetting to my parents. Losing time and the uncertainty of not knowing if we’d be able to get gas the next day was no doubt a bit disconcerting. But I didn’t mind at all. It was kind of fun! A surprise makeshift camping trip! (I was a kid remember and didn’t think much beyond the present.) Besides, they were still selling cars so, what was there to worry about?

We did get gas the next morning and continued on our way with no other problems. And a few days later, we made the return trip home just fine. But the whole thing did provide me with a nice story to think back on when gas prices start skyrocketing and I hear someone on the radio blame it on the short supply of crude oil.

I know now, the continual talk of gas shortage is done for a strategic purpose. And on purpose, by those who are in charge of determining our gas price – whoever they might be. It’s the same old thing time after time. They use anything they can to raise prices at the pump, particularly during the summer months and the holidays. It’s always due to a supposed shortage – this refinery is having problems, that one is closed for repairs, or some tanker collided with something in the ocean and has sprung a leak – any excuse will do. It’s a little different scenario that the seventies, but still the same premise. I still don’t believe there is any gas shortage. And for good reason. On my way to work today, I drove past three huge car lots. I noticed that all of them were still selling cars.

Bruce A. Borders, author and songwriter has over 500 songs and more than a dozen books. Over My Dead Body, The Journey, and Miscarriage Of Justice, his latest books, are available on Apple I-Pad®, Amazon Kindle®, Barnes & Noble Nook® and Sony Reader®, Kobo, Diesel Books, and Smashwords. For more information, visit http://www.bruceaborders.com/. See Bruce’s Amazon Author Page at www.amazon.com/author/bruceaborders or view his Smashwords Profile at www.smashwords.com/profile/view/BruceABorders

The Zoo

Last weekend, my wife and our daughter took the grandkids to the zoo. They were kind and asked if I’d like to join them. (I think they may have just wanted a driver). At first, I said no, but then after thinking about it, I decided to go. I hadn’t been to the zoo in years and then there was the part about being with the grandkids so, I went. I probably should have stayed with my original choice.

The zoo was pretty much as I remembered, fewer animals than they used to have but they still had the usual assortment – bears, lions, tigers, elephants, and my all-time favorite, the monkeys. Some would perhaps suggest that’s due to a primal kindred spirit. However, contrary to this popular opinion, I am not, and have never been, a monkey. I just like to watch them. When I was a kid, I could stand for hours, laughing at their antics.

Seeing the animals at the zoo and spending the day with the family was nice but, and here’s the reason I maybe should have stayed home, visiting all the animals requires some walking. A lot of walking. An inordinate amount of walking.

I can handle short walks. From the house to the pickup isn’t bad, a casual stroll through the yard is not too strenuous, even trudging to the mailbox is okay. But the ten-mile trek they sent us on at the zoo is for the birds – ‘cause they can fly! Me, I can’t fly. So, I had to walk. It was a winding trail, back and forth, up and down, and all around. Yet, in looking over the map they had given us at the gate, most of the walking would have been completely unnecessary. The exhibits were all arranged fairly close together, but instead of connecting them with a simple path from one to the next, we had to follow a roundabout trail all over the countryside. I suppose the idea is to create a sense of realism, to make it seem as if we were really in the jungles of Africa or on Safari in the Outback of Australia. That might have worked except for the paved path, steel cages, and the thick glass we had to look through to see the animals. Sort of gives it away.

I think it’d be better to forgo the fake setting in favor of a centrally structured design - get a big open space and build all the exhibits around it. Or, better yet, why can’t I just go sit down on a bench and have the people at the zoo bring the animals by for me to see? Let the animals do some walking for a change!

Okay, I’ll admit I may have overreacted a bit or maybe exaggerated the situation slightly, but there was an awful lot of walking involved. Too much walking for me – I’m a truck driver not a pedestrian. I don’t have that much energy. Next time, while everyone else wanders all over creation, I’ll just go watch the monkeys.

Bruce A. Borders, author and songwriter has over 500 songs and more than a dozen books. Over My Dead Body, The Journey, and Miscarriage Of Justice, his latest books, are available on Apple I-Pad®, Amazon Kindle®, Barnes & Noble Nook® and Sony Reader®, Kobo, Diesel Books, and Smashwords. For more information, visit www.bruceaborders.com. See Bruce’s Amazon Author Page at www.amazon.com/author/bruceaborders or view his Smashwords Profile at www.smashwords.com/profile/view/BruceABorders

What Goes Up

It’s an age-old adage, “What goes up, must come down.” Sometimes it’s hard to apply this to real-life situations, especially for someone who’s new to a certain job.

A few years ago, when I was an over-the-road driver, another driver and I were dispatched to a mountainous area with steep passes, up and then down. The other driver was fresh out of driving school – in his first year of driving truck. Now, runaway trucks are nothing to laugh at and can be quite dangerous, but the trick is for the driver to control the truck and not the other way around. The general rule of thumb for descending steep grades is to use the same gear and go the same speed as when climbing the grade, braking only occasionally. Overuse of the brakes will cause them to heat up and not work. Trust me, you don’t want to be going down a mountain pass in an 80,000 truck with no brakes.

We were halfway down a 5-mile grade when I noticed the other driver had grown strangely silent. I checked my mirror and he was still there, but seemed to be gaining on me rather quickly. I asked if he was all right, and in a stressed voice, he said he wasn’t; that he couldn’t slow down. Instantly, I knew what had happened. Although I’m sure they told him in truck-driving school not to ride the brakes, that’s what he had done. I asked if he’d ever driven in mountains before and he told me he hadn’t. He seemed near panic as he added that he’d never even seen mountains before. He’d gotten scared at the top when he saw what we had to go down. Wanting to make sure he went slow enough, he’d used the brakes way too much.

At that moment, I wasn’t too thrilled that he was behind me. I had nowhere to pull off and I certainly wasn’t going to speed up just to get out of his way. Lucky for me, the guy still had enough wherewithal to steer the truck around me. Lucky for him, no oncoming traffic was approaching. Also lucky for him, the rest of the hill was straight and he rode it out. There still was nowhere to stop and we climbed the next grade. At the top, there finally was a pull-off. His brakes should have cooled enough by then but I wanted to make sure before we started down again.

I made a thorough check of the brakes and they were fine – the driver, not so much. He had no desire to get back in the truck. I did manage to convince him to continue on, by telling him I’d let him know on the CB what gear to use, how fast to go, and when to brake. Since both trucks were just alike and we were hauling the same weight, all he had to do was follow what I did. We started down and I talked him through to the bottom. We continued this way, up and down, me giving instructions, for the next 100 miles or so.

Finally, as the steep grades flattened out, we came to a town. Parking at a tiny truck stop, I could smell the brakes on the other truck. Apparently, he’d still been a little overzealous with them, which he readily admitted, saying at the bottom of every grade he’d started losing his brakes again.

The guy was still shaken and sweating profusely. Walking straight to a payphone, he called the company, and quit. The dispatcher did eventually convince him to drive the truck back to the terminal.

I talked to the same dispatcher a few hours later and he wanted to know what had happened with the other driver. “He needs to relax and not use the brakes so much,” I said a little sardonically.

The dispatcher replied that some people have a hard time getting used to driving a semi-truck in mountains but they usually do get the hang of it. “They just need a little time.”

“Okay,” I said, but I wasn’t convinced. Easy for him to say, he hadn’t been the one in front of a runaway truck. “I’d rather they learn before following me down a mountain,” I said.

Oh, did I mention this was my first year of driving truck too? Okay, to be fair, I should point out that I grew up in mountains – and I was quite familiar with the practical application of the saying, “What goes up, must come down.”

Bruce A. Borders, author and songwriter has over 500 songs and 9 books. Over My Dead Body, and The Journey, his latest books, are available on Apple I-Pad®, Amazon Kindle®, Barnes & Noble Nook® and Sony Reader®, Kobo, Diesel Books, and Smashwords. For more information, visit http://www.bruceaborders.com/. See Bruce’s Amazon Author Page at www.amazon.com/author/bruceaborders or view his Smashwords Profile at www.smashwords.com/profile/view/BruceABorders

Power Nap

When I was about 10 or 11, I had an affinity for practical jokes. While we usually tend to focus on the “joke” aspect, we shouldn’t discount the practical side of practical jokes. They can actually prove quite useful, I have discovered.

I’m sure everyone has heard of power naps, a short period of sleep that quickly rejuvenates the body – truckers have practiced the concept for years to avoid falling asleep at the wheel. The results are remarkable. Unfortunately, they are only temporary. But, as I learned, the effects can be greatly extended. At the time of this story, I’d never heard of power naps, but apparently my dad had.

My dad, a preacher, and Pastor of a rather small church, also worked a full time job. Typically, his job turned into more than a mere forty hours a week. Combined with the Pastoral duties it meant his workweek was usually pretty long. As you can expect, he operated on little sleep. And from time to time, he needed to catch up in his rest.

One particular day I remember, he was scheduled to speak at a church over 100 miles away – a little more than a 2-hour drive. He got off work shortly before 5 p.m., rushed home and got ready to leave. Deciding to take me along, to help him stay awake, we left the house with only a few minutes to spare. We’d been on the road for just under an hour when my dad started having trouble keeping his eyes open. No, sadly, he didn’t let me drive, although I did offer! Instead, he pulled over to take a short nap. “Wake me up in 15 minutes,” he said.

I said, “Okay.” I already had a plan that I thought should keep him from falling asleep the rest of the trip. Waiting until I was sure he was sleeping, I ran the clock on the dash ahead about an hour. I looked across the car at his watch strapped on his arm, wondering how I’d ever re-set it without disturbing him. Then, I remembered he’d been having trouble with it not keeping time – losing time, in fact. Perfect for my needs so, I left it alone. I did set my own watch to match the clock in the car. This was long before the days of cell phones or the numerous other gadgets we now have to instantly keep us informed of the correct time – we didn’t even have a radio station for him to listen to.

Letting him sleep for the 15 minutes, I suddenly shouted, “Dad! Wake up! We’re late!”

Well, he woke up. Looking at the clock, we were back on the road without wasting a second. It took about five minutes for him to check his watch. I said nothing while he fretted over the time discrepancy between his watch and the clock, wondering which one was right. Then, I did try to help. Showing him my watch, I said, “Mine has the same time as the clock.”

Figuring his watch was dead, he devoted his full attention to the fact we would be late. I waited until we were almost to the church before setting his mind at ease.

Funny thing, later that night, he drove all the way back home without once thinking of stopping for a nap.

These days, I drive past the place we stopped, six times a day. By my last time, I’m usually tired. But just thinking of that incident from 35 years ago always wakes me right up. See? I told you I’d found a way to extend the effects of a power nap!

Bruce A. Borders, author and songwriter has over 500 songs and 9 books. Over My Dead Body, and The Journey, his latest books, are available on Apple I-Pad®, Amazon Kindle®, Barnes & Noble Nook® and Sony Reader®, Kobo, Diesel Books, and Smashwords. For more information, visit www.bruceaborders.com. See Bruce’s Amazon Author Page at www.amazon.com/author/bruceaborders or view his Smashwords Profile at www.smashwords.com/profile/view/BruceABorders