The Party You Are Trying To Reach...

Back in the day—always thought that was a saying old people used—before the advent of cell phones, it was much harder to keep tabs on someone’s whereabouts. That was important because you had to know where the person was before you called them. The alternative, of course, was to call around looking for them.

Which is what I was doing one day as I tried to find my dad. I’d called every place I could think that he could be with no luck. No one had seen him. I waited a bit and started the call list over again. Still no luck.

The reason I was looking for him is because I needed a ride. I had to be to a school function, my bike had a flat tire (I was out of patches) and I didn’t feel like walking all the way. But after no luck in finding him, I finally decided that if I were going to get there, I’d have to walk.

So, I grabbed my stuff and headed out the door. Then, seeing the shed door open, thought I’d better close it before I left. I walked over, starting to close the door—assuming I’d left it open—and there was my dad. He was working on something, I don’t really remember what.

I told him I’d been looking for him and said I’d called everywhere.

“Not everywhere,” he said. “You didn’t call here.”

“No,” I admitted. “But I was using our phone and you weren’t there.”

Apparently though, he’d been home all along. He’d been outside, when I was getting ready. And then, as I went out to find the flat on my bike, he’d come back in—through a different door obviously. Then, we’d missed each other again, as I came inside to make my phone calls.

A cell phone sure would have made things a lot easier for me that day. Or, maybe not. Not long ago, I was trying to get hold of my wife. I dialed her number, only to hear her phone ringing in the next room. No, she wasn’t home; she’d just forgotten her phone—which happens rather frequently. It was sort of déjà vu feeling as I started calling around... ~

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, The Lana Denae Mysteries, 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.

Can't You See?

Am I the only one who finds the new LED light bars annoying? The ultra-bright lights, which are great for the driver but not so great for everybody else, are showing up in increasing numbers these days. Why is that a problem? Because these lights are BRIGHT! Blindly so. But I doubt those who have them mounted on their vehicles care what I think.

I wouldn’t mind so much if they used the lights for off-road adventures or at least if they’re going to run them on the road, turn them off when meeting traffic. I’m all for being able to see better but it would be nice if the drivers going the other way could see as well. It seems no one wants to do that.

The other night, I met a pickup with 2 such light bars, one in the grille and one mounted to the top of the cab. AND, the driver was making full use of his LED foglights as well. You’d think with all of that light there would have been no need for the regular headlights but those were on too.

So, it was a little surprising with the road lit up the way it was that the driver of the pickup didn’t see all of the signs that said the lane was ending or the orange and white striped construction barrels. Well, I suppose the driver did see them—eventually. But not before smashing a into a few.

I watched the scene unfold with a slightly amused grin. Traveling in the opposite direction, I didn’t have long to look but I did notice—with satisfaction—the bright illumination on the other side of the freeway suddenly went dark. My grin then turned to a chuckle—score one for the construction barrels! I’m not usually a fan of construction barrels (or construction, for that matter), but in this case, you could say I was rather de-lighted! ~

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, The Lana Denae Mysteries, 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.

I've Been Everywhere (Almost)

Took another one of those quizzes on Facebook—yeah, I know they use them to get people’s data but I don’t care. I don’t put things on Facebook that I wish to keep private so it’s not really a problem.

This particular quiz claimed to be able to determine in what state I’d been born and/or raised based on my answers. Not that they could “guess” but that they would “know,” it said. I was instantly interested because usually these things have a little difficulty assigning me to any specific location. This is due to the fact that I’ve lived in several states and spent a lot of time visiting other states. In fact, I’ve visited most of the United States—except for one small region. I’ve picked up habits and acquired speech peculiarities along the way. And although I tend to exhibit the western influence more than any other, I’m a conflation of many places.

So, I took the quiz; answered all the inane questions that seemingly had nothing to do with where I’d been born or raised. But that’s the idea, I think. Out of the 35 questions, there were only a couple I couldn’t answer accurately—a lot less than normal—so, I just picked the answer that most closely approximated my real answer.

After finishing, I waited while the app did its thing. When I got the results, they were again very sure of themselves, stating unequivocally that I was undoubtedly from New England.

Well, I thought, that’s really remarkable how they came up with that. Out of all the places I’ve lived and been; all the traits I’ve picked up, somehow they managed to zero in on New England—the one region of the country I’ve never even visited. I think they may need fine-tune their quiz, just a bit. ~

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, The Lana Denae Mysteries, 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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Treading Lightly

The first time I changed a tire—for myself, anyway—I was 16. I’d just bought my first car, a 1973 Chevy Impala, and thought I was competing at Daytona—pretty much any time I drove anywhere. As you can imagine, the tires didn’t fare so well.

 I’d had the car about a month when one day, as I went out to go to work, I saw the flat tire. I hurriedly jacked up the car, removed the tire, and put on the spare. Tightening the lug nuts, I let the car down, threw the jack in the trunk, and then raced to the grocery store where I worked.

It just so happened that a police officer was also on his way to the same store—or at least that’s where he suddenly decided to go. I didn’t really get pulled over, as I was already parked and getting out when the cop pulled up. He didn’t even have his lights on.

“In a hurry?” he asked.

Nodding, I said that I was almost late for work.

“Maybe you should try leaving earlier next time so you don’t have to drive so fast.”

“Would’ve left earlier this time but I was changing a tire,” I said.

He didn’t say anything for a bit—just stared at me. Then, he sort of smiled. “You were changing a tire, weren’t you?” he said it as if he were surprised at the realization.

“Well, yeah. That’s why I said I was changing a tire.” I tried to keep the sarcasm out of my voice but I’ve never really been too good at that. Really, I was wondering what had clued him in that I was telling the truth.

He must’ve seen the puzzled look on my face because he pointed to me and said, “You have the evidence all over you.”

That’s when I looked down and saw that my clothes were filthy. And then I noticed my hands were black as could be from handling the tire.

“You might want to clean up before you start touching people’s food,” the cop said, and then drove away.

I guess he must’ve felt sorry for me or something. Maybe he was just shocked that I’d told the truth. I’m sure he’d heard all sorts of excuses before. Either way, I was no longer upset about having a flat, and pretty happy it had saved me from getting a ticket.

Thing is though, I would’ve been speeding anyway, whether I’d spent time changing a tire or not, and whether I was late or not. That’s just the way I drove. Of course, I hadn’t mentioned any of this to the officer; I think that would fall under the heading of talking myself INTO a ticket. Besides, I didn’t have time to say all of that—I was late for work! ~

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, The Lana Denae Mysteries, 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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Breaker, Breaker

I took a quiz on Facebook the other day. The Ultimate Trucker Lingo Quiz, I think is what it was called. As you may know, truck drivers rarely refer to things by the same name that everyone else uses. Must be the long hours behind the wheel that makes them come up with alternative names for things, I guess.

Anyway, I wanted to see how I’d do, having been a driver for twenty-two years. Turns out, I qualified as an expert. “I would hope so,” I said to myself. Two decades should be time enough to learn an entire language, not just a little industry jargon.

Thing is, I’m not sure I needed my experience as a truck driver to pass the test. I think most people could pass the test without much problem. Common sense should be all that is needed. Plus, the test was multiple choice, so...

I guess that it helps that I’m old. I’ve had a lot of exposure to these sayings and expressions nearly all of my life; particularly back in the 70’s when CB’s were at their height of popularity. Being a truck driver may have helped establish some of the lingo firmly into my lexicon but it wasn’t like trucker talk was something new to me.

But all that aside, virtually nobody, (truckers anyway) talks like that anymore. Sure, there are a few who keep it up, mostly the older drivers. And of course, some expressions have managed to hang on, such as, 10-4, meat wagon (ambulance), smokey bear, or something like, alligator in the hammer lane (blown tire tread in the left lane). But the “art” of trucker lingo is pretty much a by-gone thing. Many drivers these days do not even use the CB; don’t even turn it on, unless there’s an emergency.

Even then, the good ol’ days, when there was always someone to come back with helpful information, are over. These days, if you get anything other than silence in response, it’s likely to be some smart remark that’s not at all helpful. The camaraderie of the “White Knights of the Road,” is long gone. In some ways that may be good but I sort of miss it. And, I’ll admit that every so often, I slip back into my trucker lingo—even when I’m not driving. ’Cause, like I said, I’m old. With that in mind:

Looks like I got this blog post in my back pocket. I’m gonna back on out now and head for the barn—if I can dodge all them 4-Wheelers. Keep the dirty side down and I’ll catch you on the flip. We gone, 10-10. ~

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, The Lana Denae Mysteries, 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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