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.

______________________________

RAVE REVIEWS BOOK CLUB

Current Reads

The Painful Truth

A few years ago, I learned that dogs do not feel pain—at least according to the person with whom I was speaking. Pain, this person insisted, does not affect a dog, they feel nothing. This was an “educated” person. A person who should know. A person who has a lot of experience with dogs. Still, I think I’ll have to disagree.

While dogs may not show it in the same way humans do, and while they may not complain much, I’m quite certain dogs feel pain. I realize sometimes it can be difficult to know if a dog is in pain and if so, how much, and I know they are quite resilient creatures, but it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that canines are not insentient to pain.

Recently, I’ve been reminded of the conversation with the above-mentioned person. My wife and I have an aging collie that is beginning to have trouble getting around. Going up and down steps is becoming more difficult for her, as is simply standing up. The problem is we’re not really sure if she’s in pain or not. She doesn’t really give any indication of pain, no yelping or anything, so perhaps it’s just her joints are a little stiff. Unfortunately, we can’t simply ask her. Well, we can—and do—but she doesn’t really answer. If the problem continues to get worse, we may have to consider medication, I suppose. We certainly don’t want the dog to suffer; i.e., experience pain.

Incidentally, pain is defined as a physical hurting sensation caused by an injury (or illness) to the body; it is not unique to the human race, as anyone who has ever owned a dog knows. Common sense should be enough to settle any debate. Even a complete imbecile should be able to figure out that dogs do indeed feel pain. So, obviously, the person who told me dogs are immune to pain took a crash course in junk science. Which is odd being that the person was a veterinarian.

On a related note, we no longer use that particular vet. ~

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.

Wasted Endeavor

Well, we finally got our Christmas shopping done. And with a week to spare! Okay, I’ll admit, this is mostly my wife’s thing but I did help. A little.

Now comes the wrapping part. This is almost worse than shopping for me. It’s not that I can’t wrap packages; I used to wrap 15-20 packages every day when I worked at the dental lab. I learned to do it well and fast. That might be why I don’t really like wrapping now, too much like work. Or maybe it’s the thin paper as that prevents me from going as fast as I’d like. Whatever the reason, I usually avoid wrapping gifts. (Although I do end up doing a few here and there).

Thankfully, my wife comes to my rescue every year. This year was no different. She informed me tonight that the gift-wrapping is all done. That was nice to hear, especially since I haven’t wrapped any of them. But they did look nice, all piled up in the corner.

My wife will also be doing most of the cooking for Christmas. And since she is a great cook, I of course, will let her. I’ll be there for moral support though.

I know: I don’t like shopping, avoid wrapping, get out of cooking, so what exactly do I contribute to this Christmas celebration? Well, my job comes later. After Christmas. As you may know, I haul garbage for a living so it only makes sense that I would be in charge of getting rid of the huge pile of boxes and wrapping paper that a typical Christmas morning produces. All that pretty paper, that’s no longer so pretty, and all the food that no longer appears appetizing; it’s up to me to clear it out of the house and take it away. So, while my job may not be the most esteemed or prestigious—or even difficult—it is, by far, the trashiest! That’s gotta count for something, right? ~

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.

Not Likely To Happen

I’m really not much of a shopper. I don’t like shopping, even when there are certain things I need to buy. The whole experience bothers me; looking for a parking spot, the crowds of people, wandering through the store (and not finding what I want), the frustration of being limited in my choices, and I really don’t like not being able to compare prices—without running all over town to different stores.

And that is why I am extremely glad for online shopping. It eliminates all the hassle. 

Unfortunately, online shopping is not always an option, since my purchases can’t be delivered instantly. So, at times I’m forced to shop at a store. Like last Friday. Black Friday.

Finishing up a home project, I needed some last minute things and without thinking about what day it was, I headed to Home Depot. And found no place to park. So, truck driver that I am, I went to the docks and parked—out of the way of trucks, of course.

Inside, things got worse. People were crowding everywhere; all looking for that great buy of the century. A nightmare in other words. It took a while to navigate the treacherous aisles but I finally made it back to the trim boards, found what I needed and went to wait in the checkout line.

After a good half hour, I’d paid for couple of items and was gone, promising myself next time I would NOT make the mistake of shopping on Black Friday.

But then, I seem to recall doing much the same thing last year. And the year before that. Probably just about every year, because I’m always busy doing something. Maybe a better option would be for them (whoever they are) to discontinue Black Friday. Then guys like me, who can’t seem to remember it’s Black Friday, and always end up needing something, right then, could get in and out of the store in a timely fashion. Just a thought. ~

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.

______________________________

RAVE REVIEWS BOOK CLUB

Current Reads

Sound Of Summer

Anyone remember the ice cream truck? I do, at least when I lived in town, for some reason they didn’t come by my house when we lived five miles out. I was too cheap to buy anything from them usually; I got a lot more for my money at a store. But occasionally, I’d splurge.

In later years, once I had kids, I learned that being cheap was not an option. When the ice cream truck came by, it was a requirement that we buy something EVERY TIME! These days, my grandkids make sure to keep that rule firmly in place. Needless to say, the ice cream truck makes the drive down my street quite often—all summer long.

This past weekend however, there were no grandkids visiting, no one was home except me. I was using the occasion to work on our floor and after several hours of bending over, working on my hands and knees, my bones were complaining that they weren’t as young as they used to be. They seemed to think I should consider a different weekend activity. I ignored them for the most part but every so often, (usually when I stood back up) I thought about how much easier this kind of work was when I was younger. I used to work non-stop all weekend with no ill effects. “I need a time machine,” I told myself.

And that’s when I heard the music. The familiar merry-go-round type music announcing the soon arrival of the ice cream truck! My first thought was that the ice cream man was going to be disappointed since no kids were at my house. But then another thought occurred to me. Maybe the jingly music was the sound of my time machine coming!

In need of a break anyway, I dropped what I was doing and went outside to wait. In just a few a minutes, I was scarfing down my ice cream. The first ice cream I’d bought for myself—from an ice cream truck—in years.

Sadly, I discovered there were no anti-aging effects associated with said ice cream. But it did bring back a few memories of a time long past. So, for a brief moment, I was a kid again.

Oh, and by the way, at $3.00 for one ice cream, I can still get a lot more for my money at a grocery store. ~

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.

______________________________

RAVE REVIEWS BOOK CLUB

Current Reads

Not-So-Old Friends

Went to a friend’s birthday party this past weekend—a friend from high school. We have seen each other relatively few times since the days of our indoctrination, I mean, education. Still, there was no awkward strain or lack of conversation. I walked in and immediately we were getting along like—well, like old friends.

I know that people change, or so I’ve heard, and that after a few years have passed they no longer have much in common. But, although it’s been 35 years since we were in school, aside from physical appearance, neither of us has really changed a whole lot. I suppose some would say that not changing means we haven’t grown up and maybe that is the case. And that’s okay with me. Life is better if everything doesn’t change all the time.

We spent a few hours talking, reminiscing and catching up. And telling stories from our teenage years. I’ve heard that’s the sign of true friendship, when you can go for years without seing each other and pick right up where you left off. And that’s the way it seemed. It was almost like no time had passed—at least for a little bit...

There was a younger person at the party who noticed that we still got along like high school friends. She said, “I hope when I’m old I have a friend like that.”

I think that was supposed to be a compliment, but old? We aren’t THAT old! I didn’t take offense though, just nodded in agreement. “I hope I have a friend like that when I’m old too.” ~

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.

______________________________

RAVE REVIEWS BOOK CLUB

Current Reads

A Few More Miles

Several years ago, I took my pickup to the shop. I usually do repair work myself but I had a minor engine problem that I couldn’t figure out. I thought they would diagnose the problem and give it a quick fix—for a nominal fee. Instead, I was told the engine was shot. They said I could expect it to go at any time. But, they were happy to offer to sell me a rebuilt engine and install it for only $4,000.

At the time, the truck had roughly 100,000 miles on it. I chose to ignore their “advice,” had them put it back together and kept driving it.

A few years later, I again took the pickup to the shop—a different shop—this time for a transmission issue. After taking apart the transmission, they told me it was worn out and I would need to get a new one. Wouldn’t last more than a couple of thousand miles, they said. They quoted me a price of $2,500 to have it replaced.

By this time, the truck had 175,000 miles. Again, I chose to ignore their “advice,” had them put it back together and kept driving it.

Then, a couple of weeks ago, I started having more problems. The truck wouldn’t shift right. I tried a few cheap fixes but nothing worked. At first, I was stubborn and chose to keep driving it. Then reluctantly, I admitted it was maybe time for a new pickup. After all, I can’t expect a vehicle to last forever. Still, I wasn’t happy about it.

But then I found the perfect truck, almost a duplicate of my old one but four years newer. So, I bought it and kept the old one for parts—and partly because I just didn’t want to get rid of it. Yeah, I’m still a little saddened that it broke. But I can’t say I wasn’t warned the transmission and engine wouldn’t last. They were right too, I suppose—sort of. Did I mention the pickup now has 317,000 miles? And aside from the annoying shifting issue, it is still going. I’m thinking both places were just trying to rip me off, which is why I prefer to do my own mechanic 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.

______________________________

RAVE REVIEWS BOOK CLUB

Current Reads

Burning Memories

I’ve heard that history repeats itself, and I’m thinking that may be true. I started this blog in September of 2011, six years ago. At the time, I only planned to do it for a year or so. But here we are in 2017 and it’s become a regular Sunday night ritual; write something, type it up, and post it to the blog.

Sometimes I’m not really sure what to write about, not sure anything I have to say will be interesting to anyone. Other times, I feel inspired and write way too much—as my wife makes sure to tell me!

So today, I was wondering what to write and walked out on my deck to think—and saw the smoke. Lots of smoke, filling the sky. That’s really nothing new; the last couple of months we’ve seen quite a lot of smoky skies. But, since I was thinking of my blog, the smoke reminded me of my very first post—Fire Season.

I went back and read the post and although it’s six years old, it sounds almost like I’m describing the current conditions. But then, we have fires every year so that’s not too surprising. Still, it definitely seems like history is repeating itself. And so, in keeping with that theme, I’ve re-posted the first post below.

Fire Season

Smoke to the west. No black ominous billows, just a brownish tinged haze mixed with dingy white puffy clouds rising into the clear blue summer sky. A brushfire most likely, or maybe grass. Winds are particularly light at 5 mph. No cause for alarm, fire fighters will have the blaze extinguished in short order.

This is the fourth fire this week within sight of my house. The others were put out in less than a day causing no major damage, rather remarkable considering the high wind area and extremely dry conditions. This is all typical for the arid climate of the central Oregon high desert, but this year has been fairly mild with relatively few fires. The surrounding landscape is only slightly marred with the grayish black sooty remains of sparse vegetation.

And now, the September air is turning cooler reminding us that the fall rains will be returning soon, marking an end of the fire season, a.k.a. summer. The good news is that we’ve all survived with our personal property mostly intact. The bad news is winter is on its way, which means snow—and lots of it. The frozen white crystals will cover the ground, blanket the sagebrush and juniper trees, and decorate the distant mountain ranges, creating a picturesque scene of majestic grandeur.

Admittedly, the snow is pretty but snow brings its own set of problems - the cold, the slick roads and resulting wrecks, the roof cave-ins, and avalanches, which can potentially destroy entire areas in an instant. Yet, despite its foreboding and destructive nature, snow is a necessary evil. It provides the high desert with a vital water supply for the coming summer months in a region prone to draught. Aside from the usual benefits of drinking, cooking and cleaning, we’re gonna need the water—to put out the fires! ~

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.

______________________________

RAVE REVIEWS BOOK CLUB

Current Reads

Out In The Sun Too Long?

Good news! I survived the eclipse! And, I assume, if you’re reading this you survived as well. Or not. I have no definitive proof that my blog isn’t read by the dearly departed; though common sense says no. Speaking of common sense, I’m pretty sure that’s a rare form of thinking on the verge of extinction.

Standing in a long line at the store the other day, I heard a guy say he’d like to view the next solar eclipse from the perspective of the sun—looking back toward the Earth. He told us he was already checking into travel arrangements. Okay, then.

Apparently, the guy has never heard how far away the sun is. (Not to mention the availability of flights to the sun is sort of limited. Severely limited. As in none.) I guess he’s never heard how hot the sun is either. And that, even if he could somehow manage to get there and not burn up, trying to find the Earth would be rather difficult.

I didn’t say anything because well, the only things I could think of were not polite! (Yes, I do know how to be polite—at times). However, another guy in line wasn’t as nice. “You’re joking right?”

The would-be space traveler insisted he certainly was not. The two of them argued the finer points traveling to the sun for a few minutes before the sane one gave up. Looking at me, he rolled his eyes and shook his head slowly. I just nodded—with a smirk on my face, I’m sure.

And that would be the real reason I chose to not get involved in the conversation; a rational and reasonable person stands no chance against utter insanity—and after listening to Solar Man talk, I’m convinced he wasn’t dealing with a full deck. What’s worse though, is there were at least a couple of people in line who seemed to agree with him. See why I say common sense is in danger of becoming lost forever?

I know the eclipse is over but I think these people are still very much in the dark. On a related note: marijuana use is now legal in Oregon! ~

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.

______________________________

RAVE REVIEWS BOOK CLUB

Current Reads

The Dark Side Of The Sun

Did someone mention something about a solar eclipse? Think I heard that somewhere—amid all the dire warnings of how Oregon’s economy is going to crash. The theory was a sudden influx of a million or more people would strain supply chains, such as food, gas, ATM’s, as well as disrupt phone and Internet service. Traffic was also a big concern. All this of course was supposed to lead to much mayhem and chaos with a possible failure of the power grid. The total eclipse would bring total destruction—if one listened to the nitwits in charge. They, and the so-called experts, were predicting some very dark days.

I agree that a million additional people crammed into a small area would cause a few problems, temporarily (in a few days, things would go back to normal). I just didn’t think that many would actually show up. And apparently, they didn’t. Sure, the cities in the direct line for the full effect of the eclipse have a few visitors. I’ve seen pictures, and there are a lot of people, but nowhere close to what was expected. And so far, there have been no ill effects, at least not in my neck of the woods. In fact, I saw virtually no difference in traffic levels, or anything else, in the last few days.

Granted, Monday afternoon may be a different story—when those people who did show up all leave at once. But that will be short-lived. By the time I get home from work late Monday night—or early Tuesday morning, depending on your perspective—I’m thinking they will be long gone.

Since the event is taking place near my house, I will get up early to view it. But I’m not driving the two hours it would take to see the eclipse in its totality. I might think differently had I not already witnessed a total eclipse—in the very town in which I now live—back in 1979.

I remember it well and as I recall, the only thing that happened then was it got dark for a few minutes during the day. I’m guessing that this time, history may repeat itself—the day will turn dark, then light again, and it will be over. No catastrophic calamities. But I could be wrong. The disastrous devastation may eclipse all expectations. I’ll let you know next week—if I’m still here. ~

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.

______________________________

RAVE REVIEWS BOOK CLUB

Current Reads

In A Fix

So, my wife has decided we need to replace the carpet in our house. And, as you can imagine, “we” means me. Which is fine. She does help when I need something, but I’m quite content to do the work.

What I’m having trouble with is the “replacing” aspect—especially since she wants to replace our carpet with simulated hardwood vinyl flooring. I don’t mind the simulated or vinyl part necessarily; I would just prefer to have carpet. I like carpet. It’s warm and cozy, and a little quieter to walk on. And to me, carpet looks better.

Actually, if it were up to me, I’d probably just leave the carpet we have. Less work that way. And why replace perfectly good carpet? However, since my wife also lives in the house, I shall defer to her and not only replace the carpet but replace it with vinyl.

And that’s how I came to spend my Saturday night ripping out carpet and prepping the floor. And in doing so, realized my wife may have been on to something with this replacing the carpet idea. Not that I had much of an argument against it; after 18 years it was starting to wear a bit. Or a lot. The kids, grandkids, and dogs, not to mention me with my muddy boots tracking dirt in, have all taken their toll. Even I had to admit it was well beyond time for a new floor—and that vinyl plank flooring might not be so bad.

However, convincing my three-year-old grandson is another matter. Apparently, he’s a little like his grandfather and not a big advocate of change. When he came into the house on Sunday, he was almost distraught at the thought of “his” carpet going away. “Put it back,” he told me. We explained the carpet was old, dirty, and needed replacing. He finally agreed that we could replace the carpet but he wanted new carpet NOT something else. “You can get a new floor without CHANGING it,” he says.

After a little more discussion, we thought the matter was settled. But a few hours later, after finishing our Sunday dinner at a restaurant, he wasn’t too thrilled with the idea of going back to our house. “Is the carpet going to be back?” he wanted to know.

I said no and told him it was outside in my pickup, ready to get hauled away. He seemed mollified at that—since there was still time to make his case, I assume. The kid will probably grow up to be a lawyer because he is great at presenting a well-reasoned argument for just about anything.

So, I think I’ve found my wife’s role in this undertaking—she gets to negotiate with the grandkid. Perhaps she can work out a deal—or a plea bargain. As for me, I’ll be busy working on the floor. ~

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.

______________________________

RAVE REVIEWS BOOK CLUB

Current Reads

Time Traveler

So, I got a call from the future the other day. From my son. Really! Actually, he calls from the future quite often.

This is particularly noteworthy because when he was about 6 or 7 years old, he was obsessed with time travel. He read books on the subject, studied them to be more accurate, and discussed—at length—building a time machine with a guy in our church after nearly every service. Time travel was one of his many interests early in life. But, it was a dream he eventually gave up on when he discovered it would take far more power than he could possibly amass. Theoretically possible, but it just wasn’t feasible.

Yet, when he got older, he did find a way to travel to the future—and he calls me frequently just to prove it. You’d think he’d give me a hot stock tip or something. Maybe help me out with knowing when to stay home from work to miss a winter storm. That would be nice. But he never does. Perhaps that sort of thing might be against the rules, I don’t know.

Okay, I know many of you are reading this with a frown on your face. Probably thinking I’ve finally lost it. “Time travel isn’t real,’ I’m sure you’re saying.

Oh, but it is. How, you ask?

Simple really. At least the way my son does it is simple—he moved to a different time zone and is always an hour ahead of me. Except when he comes to visit and travels back in time—and then he goes back to the future. And all it takes is a tank of gas! ~

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.

______________________________

RAVE REVIEWS BOOK CLUB

Current Reads

Insecticide Needed

You know what bugs me? Bugs. Among other things, of course. I’d hate to imply that I find nothing else in the world annoying. I find a lot of things annoying these days but I don’t have time to list them all. So, for now, I’ll just concentrate on bugs. The creepy crawly insects, or all insects for that matter, are extremely irritating.

I’ve lived where there a lot of bugs, where there are very few bugs, and some places in between. Where I currently live, we don’t usually have a bug problem. But some years are worse than others. This year, we seem to have been overrun with crickets—large crickets that cover the highway at times. They like to eat anything and everything, which means gardens and lawns are not faring so well. Thankfully, they are letting up and should soon be gone. But...

The crickets seem to have been replaced with gnats. There are thousands of swarming little creatures that descend in a cloud and make life miserable. Driving through these “clouds” leaves your windshield plastered with a thick gooey substance that is very hard to remove. I took my pickup through the car wash the other day and while most of the dirt was gone afterward, the gnats remained. It usually takes me about an hour to clean the windshield—and that only lasts until I go to work again. So, I tend to let it go for a while—I’m waiting to get pulled over for having an obstructed view.

I know, those of you who live in humid areas with a mélange of bugs are not feeling too sympathetic. And you’re probably thinking I should just learn to deal with it. Well, you’re right. And I am—by venting about it in this post.

Okay, blog rant is over. Time to do something else. Maybe I’ll go clean my windshield—it’s starting to bug 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, 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.

______________________________

RAVE REVIEWS BOOK CLUB

Current Reads

Take The Long Way Home

Had a chance this past week to see some parts of Oregon that I’d never seen before. I suppose that was nice but it wasn’t really a planned outing so it was a little aggravating too.

I’d gone to my son’s house to help him with a project and was returning home. I’d made it only about forty miles when all traffic was routed off the freeway. The sign said “Road Closed” with no explanation as to why. Heading back to the nearest truck stop, I went inside and learned the road was shut down due to fire. There was no estimated time of re-opening.

I waited for a half an hour to see if they would update the travel information and when they did not, I decided to use an alternate route. Sometimes a wildfire can keep a road closed for days and I wanted to get home. When I started my pickup, the people parked beside me—with Kansas plates on their car—perked up, asking if the road was open. I said no and told them I was going around. Immediately, they wanted to know how far it was to take the other road and if they could follow me.

I said I had no problem with them following me and when I told them it would add about 125 miles to get to the next town, a town that was only 65 miles down the freeway, they seemed excited. But when I clarified it would take about three hours due to switchbacks up and down the mountains, they didn’t seem so thrilled.

“Could be longer too, if you get behind someone going slow, there ain’t a lot a room to pass up there. It the vehicle in front is going ten miles an hour, everybody will go ten miles an hour.” I didn’t want them blaming me when their trip turned into four hours or more.

They eventually decided against taking the detour. “We’ll just wait for the main road to open. This is our first time in the mountains,” the guy explained. “I’m not comfortable driving on a mountain road with switchbacks. Especially one I’ve never been on before.”

I said okay and took off.

Thing is, I’d never been on the road either. Not all of it anyway—I had been on the switchbacks before. But then, even if I hadn’t it shouldn’t make a difference, one set of mountain switchbacks is about like any other. Of course, I grew up around mountains so it all seems normal to me. For the folks from Kansas, I guess I can see why they’d be leery.

After I got up there, I was glad they hadn’t followed. There were no guardrails in most places, it was getting dark about the time I reached the summit, and parts of the road were needing repair—the sides were crumbling. Not a good place for someone new to mountains and if they’d been behind me, I might have felt obligated to go slower so they could keep up. Then that would have made me a bit cranky. This little detour was already costing me a few hours.

Thinking all this, I was happily cruising along, when ahead, I see a semi. It took only a couple of minutes, if that, to catch him. And then, I followed the taillights of the truck—at ten miles an hour! Yep, ten miles and hour, just like I’d suggested earlier. And that was our top speed! For the next six miles! If I’d known my words were going to be prophetic, I’d have padded my estimate, by 45 miles an hour or so! That would have gotten me home a lot sooner.

As for the people from Kansas: Although I didn’t see them again, the freeway was opened shortly after I left on my alternate route, so I’m sure they beat me to the next town by several hours! Oh, well, I eventually made it home—and got to see some parts of Oregon that I’d never seen before! ~

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.

______________________________

RAVE REVIEWS BOOK CLUB

Current Reads

Flying High

These days, it seems like flying has become a risky venture. There is no shortage of headlines chronicling some atrocious behavior of the airlines. Every few days there is something new. Flights cancelled, passengers charged ridiculous sums for regular services, others being forcibly removed, and/or arrested, etc.

So, it is with much delight that I can report an uneventful two flights on my most recent vacation. Not one problem; there were no unexpected charges, no rude flight attendants, no disputes of any kind. They didn’t even try to kick us off the aircraft. Nothing bad at all. Of course, we weren’t flying United so...

All this is rather surprising considering my track record with most businesses. If there is only one customer they can mess things up for, it will be me. It is a rare occasion to go to a restaurant, any restaurant, and have them get my order right. Seriously, I could order just a drink and they will bring me the wrong one. Most any business is the same; they take one look at me and a backroom conspiracy begins to see how they can mess with me. At least that’s what I envision.

With all the news reports of people being dragged off planes and the like, and my usual reception by stores and restaurants, you can understand why I would be a little leery about flying anywhere—and my relief when I actually made it back home without being stranded somewhere. Not that being temporarily stranded in a warm climate paradise would be all that bad. I might even make the headlines!

For now, the only headline is that I’ll be heading back to work today—the much anticipated vacation has come to an end. ~

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.

______________________________

RAVE REVIEWS BOOK CLUB

Current Reads