From a Deadbeat to an Old Greaser

 There was a tow truck in the parking lot when I got to work this morning. 

 

Since I’m the first one to show up, the lot was empty, except for the tow truck. It sat, idling, in the middle of the lot. 

 

When I parked, it made a long, graceful looping turn and started toward me. Its headlights were bright, even in the early morning sun. 

 

“Hey, buddy. Is this 417 Fifth Street?” He asked, through his open window. Cigarette smoke rolled out the window and up into the morning sky. He had a huge travel mug sitting on the dashboard.

 

“No, this is 23 Israel Street. Fifth Street is over that way, somewhere.” I said motioning toward the north. I knew my way to work, and back home, I could get to the grocery store, the liquor store, the bank and a few places to eat, but streets names and directions never really meant anything to me.

 

“I guess I should get one of them GPS things.” He said, looking at a folded map. He took the travel mug, worn and stained, off the dash board and took a long drink. “Mountain Dew, all the breakfast anybody ever needs.”

 

He burped, loud, a small amount of smoke followed the sound.

 

“I guess your car doesn’t need towing.” He looked at my car, a beat up Chevette, with mismatched tires, and fading, blue paint, rust spots bloomed in random places. “It could be a candidate for the repair shop.”

 

“Or the junkyard.” I added and we both laughed, an awkward chuckle, hollow and pointless, mostly just a formality.

 

He offered me a cigarette, and I took it, it was a Marlboro, I only bought the bargain brands. I really couldn’t tell much difference. It went well with my gas station coffee, though. 

 

“What do you guys do here?” He asked, looking at the old building, long, windowless, cream colored, dumpy and squat. It could have looked secretive, mysterious, menacing, if you didn’t know there was a women’s wear warehouse stacked in odd, messy piles inside. It was owned by clothes designers, young people, almost children, they had no idea about warehousing. They loved fashion, and clothing. 

 

There was no method to the madness, it was chaos, mixed with mindless neglect. One saving grace was everybody seemed to understand. If counts were off, nobody ever lost their temper. They just corrected the inventory until another pile was uncovered, and the missing skirts or jackets, or sweaters were found, when they would correct inventory again. All the customers were used to the on again, off again nature of ordering. It was one big happy, dysfunctional family.

 

“It’s a warehouse, or distribution center. I guess that’s the word we use know. Warehouse is old and out of fashion.” I said, inhaling the smoke, enjoying the burn, in my lungs, in my eyes. It was crazy how I enjoyed the pain. Hot coffee, smoke, touching all the right buttons.

 

“Yeah, I guess we’re dinosaurs. Hanging on to the edges. You know the other day I went a picked up a car, one of them hybrid things, down by the waterfront, some kid, really dressed, suit and tie, hair locked in place, was waiting. I was having a cigarette, and he asked me if it was hard to smoke when it was so hot. I told him it was still worth it, even offered him one. He was pissed.” He laughed, smoke coming from his nose. 

 

“We’ll, I’d better go find the car, it’s a 2012 Ford, Fiesta. Won’t start.” He said, looking at his map, his rheumy eyes looked tired and slightly out of focus. 

I pulled my phone from my pocket, found the address on the maps app. I showed him how to get there from our lot, tracing it with my finger on his map. 

 

“Hey, thanks, that’s pretty nice.” He said, putting his truck into reverse, and driving away. I went to work feeling better about life.

 

“From a deadbeat to an old greaser, here’s thinking of you.” Funny how little things are big things to a deadbeat.

We all owe you, thanks for the tip

Sunday, a day of rest, a day to research, a day to get one step ahead of the game.  With that in mind, we smoked a brisket, and man was it hard to get it into the pipe.  Sorry, just a little backyard barbecue humor there.  It was very good, and we had time to sit, have a cold beer and study the graphic below.

This was forwarded to us, here at Life Explained, by long time friend, and huge fan of us, here at Life Explained, Gale.   A person who understands the dangers facing the world today, and has managed to uncover this foolproof chart to identify and deal with the various hazards of the modern world.

As becomes obvious, from an ever cursory glance, the world is a terrifying place, filled with eight legged tragedy, hiding under every chair, waiting behind every large appliance, scurrying, climbing, scaring the bejesus out of people, everywhere.

Recently, we, here at Life Explained, commissioned a sturdy that proved conclusively, spiders are the leading cause of death, since the dawn of time.  Oh sure, scientists try to tell you that we are it was a meteor, or a comet, or a giant Mother Ship, crashing into earth, or a volcano erupting, and kicking up a big cloud of dust, blocking out the sun, or something.  Yeah, right, what kind of fools do they take us for.   A big cloud of dust, killing a bunch of huge, indestructible lizards.  It is a shame they didn't have a friend(or the electronic means) to send them this handy chart, or we might be riding a Tyrannosaurus to work, and that would be cool.

Flying, or Getting From Here to There With a Busload of Strangers.

Flying, a method of transportation that dates back farther than anyone can remember, for thousands of years it has been the preferred method of travel for birds, some insects, certain types of squirrels, bats (and balls).  There was even a dinosaur that grew wings and flew. It is worth noting that many, many, very, very knowledgeable scientists (well, maybe not that many) believe this may led to the extinction of this once proud, noble, ground moving species.

Imagine the first few tentative feet.  Clumsy, awkward, and uncertain, the lumbering beast manages to stay in the air long enough to experience the thrill of flight.  In a very short time it is circling gracefully, majestically, climbing, banking, sailing through the air, charging $7.00 for a Bud Light!!!  That's just robbery!!!  Pretty soon the whole dinosaur kingdom was up in arms, revolting against long lines, brutal security checks, rude attendants....  Oops, sorry, we will cover this in much more detail in our upcoming smash hit blog series "The History of Flight, or Why Do Think They Invented Parachutes, Anyway?

What we are here to discuss today is a particular airline.  Southwest Airlines.  Regular readers, friends, strangers in airports who happened to be unfortunate enough to be near me in airports understand my feeling about flying, I am not a fan.  But, Southwest Airlines carried my blind friend all the way from Omaha, NE to Columbus, OH and back again, and didn't lose him, even for a few seconds, and considering his predilection for wondering off in the blink of an eye, even when told "you wait right here, and don't move," (turning back around you find that somehow he has wandered into the alligator exhibit) that is quite an accomplishment.

Plus, they treated him with kindness, and made him feel comfortable, and got him from gate to gate with the care of a family member.  While we were waiting for him to board this morning the man from the counter came over and asked him about his transfer in Chicago, and whether he wanted to ride in a wheel chair or to walk.

Everything was handled with dignity, and care, and I hope this makes it into the hands of someone at Southwest who has some authority.  My whole family thanks you.

"It is Time to Face Reality."

"Hey, do you mind if we dance with your dates?"

With this latest snow storm I am afraid we have gone beyond mere, average, mortal winter, and we are now forced to face some sort of super villain winter, it is like the Joker of winters.  This is not winter, the season, this is winter, the invasion.  We are no longer surviving winter, we are being beaten into submission by winter.   This is almost historically bad, Winter, the Terrible.

"Oh, my, what lovely weather we are having,
you, ungrateful puny humans."

There are those who will say, "oh, winters used to be a lot worse than this.  I remember the winters of my childhood, and this is pretty nice, by comparison."  But, what those people are experiencing is called "Confabulation" which is a "memory disturbance" mostly the fabrication, or distortion of memories.   Either that, or they are talking about the extinction event after the comet smashed into the Earth, and the dust clouds covered the sun, and the temperature plummeted, and the dinosaurs were removed from the equation.  But, taking a quick glance at their birth date on their Medicare cards will let you know whether they are "crazy," or just really old.

It is time we face the facts, winter is here to stay.  And that is OK, as long as you are prepared, and that is what we are going to help you with today.  Remember to wear layers, layers of clothes, at least 4, but when you hit 15 you have probably gone too far, have someone help you remove a couple, as you are probably immobile by now.  Hats, and gloves are a must, the hat should go on the head and the gloves in your pockets, so you can still change songs on your phone, grab your coffee, snack on your donut (nobody wants glove lint on their doughnut, what are we animals?), and other critically important driving tasks.

In situations like these, you will see many people whose cars have become stuck, in snow banks, ditches, medians, the backs of other cars, repossession trucks, the hazards are countless in these conditions.  Remember, these are people, like you (your brothers and sisters in the family of man), who, by the whim of cruel coincidence, and through no fault of their own, have become ensnared in the harsh entanglements of winter.  You have an obligation, a duty, a responsibility to these people, so slow down as you drive past, in the warmth and comfort of your car, and try to look distressed.  Glance at your watch, as though you are in a big hurry.  Try not to make eye contact, it would be very unkind to get their hopes up, suckers, anyway.

When you get to work, make sure to grab the parking spot that is closest to the door, it is probably icy, and old Mildred has a walker which gives her a little extra stability.  And Bob, from accounting always wears those compression socks for his phlebitis, and, deep vein thrombosis, and, they look pretty warm.  Hey, it ain't your fault your healthy.

Now you are prepared to face the day, bitter cold beyond belief, and get to work, and into the building.  Tomorrow we cover getting home in the exciting conclusion, "Reaching Escape Velocity," or "How to Act Like You Have Accomplished Something."