More Dull Tales of Driving

I've been quiet for a while. But life has fallen into a pattern largely devoid of much new and exciting B quality adventures. The last two weeks have been free from jolts of adrenaline and I wonder what sort of karmatic buggery is building. I hope it isn't worse than dealing with the insurance company. Actually, so far that hasn't been too terrible, aside from me feeling out of my element with this new and bizarre experience. Insurance company did I say? Yes indeed. The last two weeks have been slow. The week prior was quite full and lively. I shall begin. I'm still a delivery driver and I work second shift. By in large I like second shift. I enjoy the fact that I have the morning and afternoon to devote to my interests then I goto work and when I get home I goto bed. I am able to get my daily walk(about 4 or 5 miles, it takes a little over an hour) and after that I can spend time weaving chain working on this story or that novel. That of course is only when my discipline slips and I don't get stuck in a loop of checking websites on the net. There are some days where I circle through facebook, gmail, and then to my sales page at amazon(that rarely changes). Over and over. In fact, I expect that I'll run the circuit at least once or twice as I write this. It's a sad existence. See how that works? I was telling a story and got distracted. Happens every day. Anyhow, I still drive evenings and nights, about 250 miles a day, which gets me back in town around 11pm. Worse since It is construction season in my current home state. But we've had a mild winter with clear roads. So, in that much I have been largely fortunate. I am in effect getting paid to listen to audiobooks(The Wheel of Time has taken around six months at my slowish pace but I take breaks from the listening). I've had several rather unpleasant blips during my tenure as a driver. My new worst happened a few weeks back after my deliveries had been made and on the return trip. Full dark had come. I don't mind driving in full dark, as much as I enjoy seeing the scenery, as I get to pretend that I'm in some exotic place. Easy enough to do when the trees create a tunnel of blackness through which you only see the highway. What you might see is further eroded by that steady stream of traffic flowing at you with headlights glaring. I have perhaps a seventy-five foot bubble of clear vision ahead of me. And in this I fly through every night at 70mph. What was that Kenny G? I have been on the Highway through the Danger Zone. It's the Detroit to Saginaw(including Flint) corridor on 75. Headlights come right at you, which is tiring. Even the 4 foot tall concrete wall that separates the two opposing lanes of traffic does little to the strain. I sit surrounded by light but unable to see. What dickery. I had just come out of a construction zone, and up ahead of me a semi-swerved to the right onto the shoulder of the road. Well, this happens. Sometimes drivers get distracted and drift. Sometimes they just decide to pull over for a rest or due to mechanical problems. I noticed the strange occurrence but thought little of it. Until I got to that point myself and found that the driver had changed course to avoid that box-spring that was lying flush in the middle of the lane. Now I don't know why it was there, but I've imagined the scenario and most involve an idiot, twine and highway speeds. The semi driver had pulled right. I opted for the center lane instead. I slowed slightly and swerved out of the way. Really, the crappy aveo I often drive is quite nimble and it got me over no problem. Cool. Wait. Twenty feet further on another shape appeared. The mattress. Well that makes sense. Who would carry a box-spring without the mattress after all? More breaks! More swerving! Highway Slalom! Back into the outside lane! The Aveo did not like this. I don't know if it was the swerving or my application of the breaks, but the car decided that it wasn't done with the dance. Maybe it felt the need to spin about in a piroutte in celebration of such a grand feat of agility. Who knows, I turned the wheel against the spinout. In the next heartbeat the aveo tried to throw itself into that aforementioned wall. I fought that. Maybe I over compensated. The aveo decided to try to make a break and leap over the edge of the highway. I've decided that the car is EMO and wants to kill itself. My thoughts were: “Eat a bowl of fuck, I am going to crash! This is really going to suck!” Followed by “I really don't want to crash, I shall keep fighting until I do.” I did not crash. Nor did I shit myself. In no particular order of importance I'm proud of these accomplishments. Before you ask, I didn't pull over and drag the set off the road my own self. I was several miles further on before that course of action even occurred to me. I'm slow to react and some things take a long time to percolate as I worry them over. Just how my brain works(or doesn't). Looking back, I did notice a car and a couple people on the road-side. Maybe they were the bastards who inadvertently laid this trap. Event two. Less than one week later. Tucker and Dale vrs my HHR. The HHR is the new car that the company purchased to replace one of the older aveos(we had 2). By new, I mean it was a 2008 model with 55,000 miles. But newer than the 2006 aveo with 140,000 miles. I add around 1250 – 1500 miles a week. One of our salesmen also uses the company cars. I don't know how much he drives. Have you seen Tucker and Dale vrs Evil? If not, you should. Rent it, buy it, watch it on netflix. What-ever. The move is a delight. But I mention this because I got to meet the title characters, or their real-world avatars. It was not as awesome an experience as I would have expected. Sure, they were nice enough all things considered. But more jaded and not as lovable. Neither of them liked visiting the city, that was apparent by their tone and words. They were country boys through and through. I was making a local run in town driving along one of our main thoroughfares. This day, I was driving our newish HHR. I rather like the HHR, especially when compared to the Aveo. It's spacious, is easy on gas and rather comfortable to ride in. The extra added bonus is that it doesn't get thrown around in high winds like the Aveo. Driving an Aveo in storms is like riding a bucking bronco. The traffic was moderately heavy, being mid-afternoon and I was following along with the flow. The car in front of me slowed. So I slowed. Tucker and Dale did not. I heard a screech of tires behind me. I looked into the sideview to see where it was coming from when I was surprised by a loud crash and my vehicle being launched forward rather violently. I can recall hitting the seatbelt. Kids wear your seatbelt – I can't stress this enough, as every night I visit facilities which deal with auto-accident and head-injury patients. I've said it before and will repeat it, new drivers need to take a tour to these places as a part of their training. I pulled over. Tucker and Dale did too. They were driving an aged jeep with a heavy steel push bar on the front end. The bar had heavy black rings to attach chains or cables. Here is a practical demonstration why maces and hammers are more effective than words against plate armor. All of that force and power directed onto a single point. The vehicle needs some several thousand dollars in repairs, starting with a new hatch door. The car has since developed issues with starting up. I was standing on the side of the road and I must say that being in an accident is a new experience for me. I called my co-worker for advice. Dale was a bit upset and wanted to know if we'd have to contact the insurance company. Yes, we would. Judging by the huge dent in the back of the car. Dale was trying to access his insurance info with his blackberry. I made two points, get Dale's insurance info, and copy down the license plate number. Tucker in the mean time was going on a rant. I didn't catch much of it as the noises of traffic was too loud. What I did catch was “Not that I was talking about you!” I hope they got out of town without any more incidents, because this all happened on one of the college campuses in town. I'm pretty sure that Tucker was complaining some about college kids. Watch the movie. I drove the HHR to finish the run I had begun. Cause the meds must go through. Rain, sleet, tornadoes or hillbillies. Not only that, but I took it with me on the nightly run across state. Not bad engineering Chevy. The starting issues actually began the next day. Yay! New car is already borked! So, part two. I got to visit the police station and file an accident report. This was how I spent part of the following Saturday morning, filling out the report in four part harmony. Down to drawing a picture of the scene of the accident. At last, I get to put my art degree to good use. Not really, it was a crappy picture, but I wanted to get out of there and get on with my weekend. Finally I got to call the insurance company. Rather, I got to find the insurance company's phone number online, as that was not listed on my proof of insurance. I got through and the local monkey gave me a phone-number for an agent with Hartford. They were just a shell company it seemed. Great. Well, I called the agent, and got it all worked out sort of. She would send an adjuster soon. Soon of course is relative, it took a week for her to call back, and more than that to get the adjuster. This job is going to kill me. Worse, the weather has really take a turn towards the summer's heat. So. I am unhappy with my situation and I don't see how to improve it. I have no momentum and need to find something to get my boulderesque rolling again. I can think of a few reasons but still I hesitate as I ponder and dither. And now I bitch about my own stupid self. Really, I stand in a box of my own making, a wet cardboard box that I could easily punch through and step out of. But before I jump I want to see where I might land. Lately I've been looking at the Pacific North West as a place to jump. I have an urge to go. But these could all be a fantasies set up in my own head. Next time, I'll tell you about my heroic battle with shin splints.

Rider in the Storm

Fortune smile upon me, for the boatman Charon makes no change.

I don't care for driving at night. Oncoming headlights are wearing on the eyes. There is always that stream of bright lights that washes out the rest of the world. Two or three hours of that, makes for a poor evening. What you can see comes from that small bubble of light racing in front of you to illuminate the road. Just the road ahead, no further. So the scenery is usually lighted buildings and billboards. Oh how well I know the billboards that run the length of my route.

Finally there are the unseen dangers. In this part of the world at least, there are a lot of critters waiting in the wings to suicide by throwing themselves at your vehicle. Critters be dumb and numerous. I've not yet hit anything, luckily, but that's not for the lack of suicide squads what have tried. So far my nearest miss involved 3 feet of empty air between my fender and a bounding deer. Louis, you want to talk about deer again?

You know what makes driving at night better? A snow storm. Snow began falling early afternoon, and temperatures began to fall before night. The snow began to stick, the wet stuff. Slick. Ice. The snow wasn't too heavy, but it did diminish visibility some. There was one point in the afternoon as I drove into the storm when I thought my vision had suddenly begun to dim. It was like the house lights in a theater as a movie starts. I nearly panicked.

Wind too is usually a part of a storm. Driving in the wind? That also sucks. It doesn't seem to matter if the vehicle is large or small, a powerful gust can throw you around the road. I think wind is almost as dangerous as slippery roads, especially when driving at highway speeds. At least you can see the snow on the ground. There was wind that night too.

Compound all of that with a large cargo van with rear-wheel drive. So much more surface area for the wind to catch hold of. And poor traction to push the vehicle forward. I've only ever been in a single car accident, it involved riding in a van through poor weather at night. Said van spun out and then rolled over the edge. That was nearly a decade ago. Have you no idea what I'm talking about?

Though my knowledge of the universe is imperfect and I can only make deductions at any given time by my experience, I shall still try and explain:

Rear-wheel drive vehicles are when the engine is used to power the rear wheels (actually usually just one rear wheel as I understand it – my information might be obsolete or incorrect though.). I believe the problem here is the lack of weight over those wheels and the difficulty for the tires to get proper traction on the surface, especially when the roads are slick with ice. Thus, when you stop at an intersection, lo and behold when you go to accelerate, the wheels just spin unhappily.

This, I believe is the problem. And it leads to the wheels spinning, which can result in fish-tailing. Fish-tailing is when the rear of the vehicle swerves back and forth of its own volition. Not a pleasant experience when you're traveling anything above 20. Much less so when you're out on the highway at any speed. I imagine that this loss of grip was what sent so many of my fellow fools off into the ditch.

If I'm wrong, feel free to pipe up.

Every day I pass at least 4 billboards advertising the lotto. You know, at 11 at night, when headlights are blaring in your face, with the knowledge that you're going to have to do this again tomorrow and every night five nights a week for the foreseeable future, well those 1 in 100,000,000 odds seem like a good bet. Maybe that's their plan. This week the jackpot was 350,000,000. The mind moves quick to ponder what being rich would be like. What one would do with a few(or a great many) million dollars. Think those happy thoughts. Hope is what gets we the fools through the day.

I was an hour late to start on my route. Cycle(the monthly supply medications) was due for one of the larger clients and my company had recently divested itself of the truck that was used to haul larger deliveries(rather, this one delivery monthly). We instead started a new practice of renting a van once a month for that particular delivery(or maybe they're buying a van). But it is a new process and there was confusion – primarily that U-haul charges for mileage, where as their competitor Enterprise doesn't. After I picked up the van, I pointed this fact out – about a half hour before go time, right at the height of rush hour. We got rid of the first van and rented a second – $.59 a mile over the course of a 300 mile round trip is some heavy cash. Not exactly a conducive to good business.

We ordered a second van. I got to do the old switcheroo. Picking up the second van involved trudging through rush-hour traffic at the city's most busy intersection. I won't make that mistake again. The agent at Enterprise was delighted that we shared the same first name, and he mixed small talk with business as most reasonable people do. I lack the skill/ability/talent/inclination to make small talk. Just cannot do it, or make myself interested. Questions, those wonderful things that get the ball rolling, just do not occur to me. I am quite content to remain silent and think about candy. I can however engage in conversation when someone goads me along, I can answer questions and even show some whit. I just cannot make myself engage with a stranger.

Much to my disappointment, though not surprise, I found that neither of the cargo vans had a decent sound system. I don't expect top of the line speakers or whatever. But a line-in or cd player seems to be about standard. I was left with a radio for the duration. 8 hours is a long ass time to listen to NPR. Yes, I am a pretentious prick who listens to NPR. Normally I listen to music or Audio books when working. They both help the hours pass.

So, I got a late start. This isn't too terrible, if you believe in the theory that the rush-hour will pass you by, or at least thin out. It usually does during my normal route. Traffic starts slightly heavy, though flowing constantly, and then lessens as the evening grows. Usually. In ideal conditions. Or even less than ideal conditions. But it had been snowing for the last several hours and the highways hadn't been plowed completely clean. Most folks were careful. And the dumb ones were in the ditch. I swear, I saw more cars off the road that night than on all of my other trips combined. The wreckers must have made a killing and the highway patrol was kept busy all through the evening.

I have driven through worse weather. Twice I drove through a blizzard But that was when I was still profoundly stupid. Now I'm just moderately stupid. But

This night, there was a stream of slow moving traffic extending from both of my bumpers, kind of like a giant millipede that was just sputtering along. For a few short minutes I briefly hit my top speed of around 45MPH. Which then dropped down to around 10, with the average running around 35. Most nights I can happily cruise along at 70. Faster even, if I feel rushed. But I usually don't and feel that abiding by the limits are fair enough. 2 or 5 extra miles per hour won't make much difference in the course of a night as to when my route ends.

I ran into a strange effect of the conditions. There were times where I couldn't seem to make myself go over a certain speed. I spent the night with my foot on the accelerator pedal – where usually I opt to use cruise control. I often find myself getting swept up and following the flow of traffic whenever I have to feed the engine manually. Cruise control helps keep this impulse at bay, while freeing me up from keeping an eye on the speedometer. A feature that came in quite handy when I was young and just getting the hang of driving.

Now, mind, had I been in a smaller and more manageable car I would have gone a bit faster I think. No where near highway speeds, but I imagine that I would have been willing to broach 50 on some parts of the trip out. Though I still would have kept the cruise off. No point in tempting Fate further and being struck down like those other fools. A man cannot spin fantasies about wealth or romance if he's dead. Or worse, in one of the facilities my company services. Some of them deal with auto accident victims.

Needless to say though, it took twice as long as usual to arrive at my first stop. Really – that is the general theme of the night. I usually get back home around 11pm, and this time it was 3.30 AM. Just a recurring theme of the night.

I was met with an avalanche of Pity from the people I encountered at my final stop. Given, usually I get there around 8.30, and it was now fast approaching midnight. They make you go out in that? One asked me. While another said that she had been wrong before in thinking that her job sucked – not when she saw what was expected of me. Maybe they were wondering if I would be remanded into their care before the end of the night.

I hope not. Not that. Not ever. Though the irony makes me laugh now. I think I would weep later.

Anyhow, that last stop went rather smoothly, cold as it was. And soon I was on my way back home. Another long drive was ahead. This time I managed to get all the way up to 50 MPH at a few points. That is, until those heart jolting shots of adrenaline kicked in when suddenly the rear of the van would begin pulling to one side or another.

I'm not a coffee drinker and the headlights were grinding away at my eyes like sandpaper by the end. I was happy to be back in town safe. All that remained was to gas up and drop off the van before going home and finding my blankets. Sadly, I lost my credit card. I have a habit of placing important objects such as my glasses and keys into the same place. That way I never lose them. Same goes with the cards and their place in my wallet.

I must say that I was surprised to find out that the card wasn't in the proper place. Very surprised. I practiced some of my vocabulary of harsh language and jumped back into the van to head back home. The rest could wait until morning. (I found the card, it WAS in my wallet, but in a different slot. I blame a combination of the long night and general stupidity on the part of the user).

I would say that overall, the experience has driven me to think deeply about what I want out of life. This is not the case though. Generally I know what I want out of life. I just don't know how to go about making those dreams come true. My imagination doesn't extend to finding that necessary path. Some seem well out of my reach as I keep treading water. I feel like that stupid van, my tires are spinning while I sit still. I hate it. This leaves me feeling unfulfilled. Ennui is a close friend.

Big Doings on the Road

Well, the wonderful week of clear and warmish weather has passed. And in proper fashion too, with a snow storm. Well, first there was rain, and then dropping temperatures brought snow. And wind. Can't forget that. As winter storms go, this one wasn't terrible. Driving in a snow/rain mix sucks, and some(most) people refuse to slow down. Still, I didn't see any accidents on the highway on the way out, and only one in town.

The way back, that was worse. The snow had fallen, temps dropped and it had begun to stick.. More was coming. The plows were out. I dropped my speed to around 40-50 when I came through a heavy band that was about 50 miles across. Even the Truck drivers were going slow in places. I was following a convoy that was at least eight trucks long at one point.

A few of the fools who didn't slow down ended up turned around, flipped over and in the ditch. At one point in the night I could see a car up about a half-mile ahead of me flashing bright yellow lights on the roof. Turned out to be a cop car who was looking for one of those fools who didn't have the sense to lighten up on the gas.

So, Thursday night was long. But the weather was only part of it.

Now onto griping about people.

Every month Cycle is delivered to the facilities. That is all of the medications needed for each of the patients for the entire month. For some of the facilities, this means a truck full of medications all in their little bubble cards. This leads to some problems, as the pharmacy might run out of a specific drug – so whatever was missed has to go over the next few days.

Wednesday was cycle. Thursday, the day of the storm was catching up and filling in the gaps. Guess which was more annoying?

One faculty member has the job of going over the medication delivery. Cycle as a whole is to be taken directly to that member's office during the day hours when that member is working. Cycle largely went smoothly. We had to change offices because the Nurse on hand didn't have a key to the elevator and she didn't want me to haul the endless totes downstairs by hand. Doing so wouldn't have bothered me, I was on the clock and I was willing to get the exercise.

Cycle+1. 20 more individual packages, plus several more cases. The little Aveo I drive across state through the storms was packed full. Cycle Proper is delivered to the office. After Cycle things change. At night all of the packages for that administrator are to be brought to another building, one that is directly across the parking lot. Easy enough, I've done it before, and know what to do. Take it in and give it to the med passer and she signs off on it and saves it for said administrator.

Problem. She was indignant at being responsible for the Administrator's packages. Why should she have to do this? She asked. The administrator is in another building completely. I shrug my shoulders – Delivery Monkey knows not the answers. Delivery Monkey follows instructions. Instructions are, deliver large pile of packages here and a have staff sign paperwork and stash them away for administrator. Delivery Monkey thanks you and leaves, basking in a job well done.

Bing, bang boom. Just like they were last night, and the night before. Staff grabs the poor counterpart who works in the Administrator's building, and sees about having him sign for the packages. No dice – he ain't allowed. Rules is rules and all that guv. I get frustrated, she's 'sposed to sign, she won't sign. I call our rep/salesman/troubleshooter – as these are my instructions for when I run into snags, figuring that he could bludgeon this through.

He calls administrator. She calls the building and talks to staff. Staff then hands the phone to me and I am informed something along the lines of 'it is very easy, why are you making it difficult?'

Right. Why am I at all. I'm such a dick.

Papers are signed. Offerings of a pleasant evening are given. I leave the facility and stew about being bitched out for someone else's douchery. Administrator will be woven into the Pharmacy novel – someway or somehow.

Encounter 2.

The facility seems to have cut down on staff. Their medication passers – not nurses, just college aged kids whom they hire to pop pills and give them to the patients – now seem to divide their time between multiple halls. Said staff are sometimes difficult to locate and waiting is often involved as they finish up tasks and are summoned by the orderly on site.

As I was awaiting the arrival of the staff one of the residents approached my little corner. He was chattering a little in a friendly manner.

Then the staff member arrived. Resident in question declares that he knew that the med passer would be along. Which led to the revelation, that he had psychic powers. I was willing the staff to hurry up and get his checks done and sign off on the delivery.

If nothing else this dude looked the part. Now, after years of watching movies, reading books and comics, I have been presented with a definite idea of what a mutant with psychic powers should look like. If Hollywood were casting him in a movie, he'd be a dead-shot for Psionic Wasteland Hobo. Or perhaps an oldtimey prospector long living in the mountains away from civilization. A man who has been used hard by life.

Then he started talking more, about said powers. I think. I didn't catch everything he said. There were several layers of conversations about the room and the radio was on. But he was talking about being pyschic, which then morphed somehow into him telling me about a space microbe that was scooped up by a satellite and returned to earth. The microbe made an entire town disappear. Was it a conspiracy theory or a vision of the future? I've met some folks who believe in conspiracy theories on that campus.

But I'm not sure. What I do know is that he was talking about the plot to the movie the Andromeda strain. Maybe that was the conspiracy, it actually happened and the government covered it up. Or maybe he just switched gears and decided to tell me about his favorite movie. I merely agreed with him that it was a good movie and held off until my transaction was finished and I could finally show my back to that place.

I'm told that I need to make ten goals for myself for the job. Goal three through ten are all Not get myself killed by those various means so casually available to me. Seven involves brain melting by psychic hobos.

I'm a driver, I'm a winner. Again.

I cannot say for sure if the Universe loves me or hates me. I think that my being inspires some sort of twisted passive aggressive love-hate mania in whatever cosmic force that drives reality. Last march, my job disappeared and I found myself rather suddenly unemployed. This happened about a month after I first bought into the brand new Health Insurance plan. I was insured for a whole month!

There was of course the downside of things. No income. I did happen to receive unemployment benefits for a few weeks. I live in Michigan and the economy here has been in the hole for as long as I've been alive. I actually was employed on the strength of my sister's performance. She's intelligent and hard working and they decided to hire me as well. I'm a bit dimmer but driven to keep busy, and I took on every task that was thrown my way. I've written about the experience previously.

But they were re-organizing and my position disappeared. So it goes. The only thing that burned me was that the company kept a sleazy, unreliable... I have more

I took the time to read and write and work on other projects. I revised novels 5 and 6 and then wrote and revised novel 7, along with a double-handful of short stories. There were also loads of books and regular exercise. I re-discovered the joys of the local library. I built up my post apocalyptic survival library. All while looking for work elsewhere in the country. It felt great to be productive again. I was living on natural time, life was mostly good, if a bit uncertain.

My co-worker calls this delightful state of being “Pretirement” as she postulates that we'll never actually be able to retire so we might as well take advantage of our brief periods of unemployment whilst we're young. I do not disagree with this supposition, though I'm optimistic that one day I'll at least be able to get my writing career going to the point where I can support myself doing something I love. Still, I embrace my unemployment with glee, even as I try to avoid it.

Sometimes it feels as if the universe is giving me a taste of what life could be like. Like an extremely subtle demonic temptation. Sell your meager soul and live the dream of the hack novelist!

So we come back to the original statement in this post. I was offered a job as a driver full time running a route that I had occasionally covered during my last stint in their service. They hired me back. More pay. Different hours. No data-entry. I get to drive a car with a manual transmission – another topic previously hit upon, a skill that I picked up while working for this company.

Sweet! How fortunate!

I mean, I've already got some fun anecdotes. One dude in a wheelchair said that he loves me. I thanked him for that. I mean, there are other sources(beautiful women) whom I'd rather hear that declaration from - who hearing utter it might make my decade. But you take it where you can get it, so I thanked him and moved on.

But here we go. I do live in the state of Michigan. The weather is cold and we tend to get a lot of precipitation due to the fact that we're surrounded by lakes. In the winter we see this in the form of snow, sleet and freezing rain. I've come to realize a new functioning law in the universe. If I'm driving and there is a chance that it will snow or rain that night, it will snow or rain that night. Of the less than 10 days that I've been working, the weather conditions have been adverse for at least 80% of the time. But, Michigan, winter. Blah blah blah. This is all expected. A given. A fact of life to be complained about despite all the rest.

There were a couple incidents last night that really made me wonder if I offended creation by turning down some pact that I was just unaware of.

So far in Driving I've nearly been creamed by a cop car and have had a couple other close encounters to brag about. Part of the risk of driving at night. But yesterday, the universe re-introduced the ever looming threat of Deer to be the bane of my existence.

Deer. Louis CK is quite explicit about his feelings for them – and I feel that he has some valid points.

Last night, after leaving my third stop, I came across a herd of five does(a deer, a female deer) off to the side of the road. They were blocked by a tall fence that hemmed them out of some person's property and they see my car flying down the road in their general direction. As usual, they decided to break and run, right in front of my car, at the last second. - this is after long hesitation that allows me to come closer and closer. The company car that I drive is a Chevy Aveo. A Kleenex box on wheels. I don't need deer to throw themselves at me and crumple my ride. I missed the dumbest member of the herd by about three feet as it waited until the very last second to run across my path.

Luckily, I saw them early and was able to slow down. Fucking stupid deer. We need to breed wolves that can only digest white-tail deer flesh and set them loose on the herd.

Now for the figurative deer encounter. Same night maybe 4 hours later. My run was over and I had punched out and was driving home for the night while I was driving along in my own sweet ride – a white 96 Chevy Lumina that is somehow still able to start and drive, though a growing percentage of mass is represented by Iron Oxide. It's a round-town car, as it tends to vibrate uncomfortably whenever is passes the threshold of 60mph. I call it the Drift, and it gets mention in my Pharmacy novel.

Back to deer encounter 2. I was rolling along homebound on one of the main streets around 11pm and thinking about climbing into bed and going to sleep. Suddenly a car darted out of the cross street right in front of me. And then the driver stopped dead and froze, creating an impromptu roadblock and an excellent implement for an action movie chase scene.

Luckily my breaks still work, which surprises me, or I'm sure that Drift would have dissolved and burst into a ball of fire.

The silver lining? I wouldn't have to worry about paying my student loans back. Well, back to another evening of living dangerously.

The hardcore life of a drug mule.

I got to do some drug-muling this week. Boy was it fun.

Wait, that sounds like an actual adventure, and not a twisted half-mirror image of one. I work for a pharmacy that specializes In supplying long term care facilities. Most facilities are on a 30 day cycle for their medications, meaning that they generally get one large shipment every 30 days. With exceptions being made for emergencies and new prescriptions. But all in all days are spent packing tens of thousands of dollars of medication for one delivery. All your eggs in one basket indeed.

Let me explain something about the facility in question. First, it is a depressing place to visit as they take care of and house car accident victims. I don't mean people who broke an arm in a car crash, I mean the folks who have come away permanently changed. Or just aren't there any more. One of the most depressing set of instructions ever seen on a script is probably "Apply to stumps." Really, when it comes to a place like this, those what die are the lucky ones. The rest are just vegetables and shells. Which is why, that if I get into an accident, I hope to buy the farm immediately.

I think that 16 year old kids, and people on DUI charges should be forced to visit... no, work at a place like the Facility. Videos and brochures and slogans are all nice, but you need to be able to experience in all visceral sensual detail what their decisions could lead to, either for themselves or for others. Let them apply ointments to the stumps of a vegetable for a few weeks. Let them interact with the brain-scrambled denizens that poke and prod and generally go on crazy.

And if they fail to learn the lesson, shoot them, as anyone that thick shouldn't be allowed to breed.

In seven months, this is the third time I've taken cycle to the Facility. The first time was because our driver decided to take a day off right as cycle was due. This was about two weeks after I started. I got to drive across the state and deliver the cycle. Which is for our little company a very big deal. Almost like, oh I don't know, some asshole captain of an oil tanker in say Alaska skiving off to get drunk and handing the job over to the peon who washes dishes. Except that I avoided grounding on any reefs.

This is all just to say, muling isn't my usual job, I just step in when needed.

Our driver promoted himself to the head of the delivery department. This happened when one of our competitors imploded and our business quadrupled in like a week. So they brought in a ton of new people and a half-dozen new drivers. Here's where my confusion begins, they have a load of drivers who are fully capable of taking an object from point a and leaving it at point b and then returning home. They have one woman who is dedicated to this route. Plus the self-styled manager of the delivery department carried cycle to this very Facility at least ten times in the past year, plus near daily visits in between.

When he stepped up, he gave his job to an older woman. One who has yet to win the confidence of some of management in her ability to take an object from point a and point b and then return. She's pissed off the goblin that works at the Facility, who just happens unpleasant creature who doesn't seem to like anyone or anything. So I was asked to go along to make things smoother.

Which brings me back...

It turns out that I wasn't just along as extra muscle, I was the actual driver and delivery monkey. This is a one person job, and I would have preferred to do it alone. Or better have our main driver take over.

If one of his hand picked followers is incapable of doing the job, shouldn't the head of the shipping department be the one who steps in? It's not like the man is busy, his days are spent chatting on the phone and taking two hour lunch breaks at Hooters. Yeah, this is great. I'm doing his job. I hope I get paid extra for it. I would like to be the head driver for a day. Hang out at Hooters. Wreck the company bathroom. Take an hour to fill one car up with gas. Creep out the female members of the staff and get away with it.

The drive over went quietly and smooth. How I like it.

There was yelling when we arrived, or so I heard tell of later. The warthog wasn't too pleased to see my copilot. She came out of the South Building and yelled "Don't you know where South is?" I pointed at the building and responded "Yeah, It's right there!" Had I wanted to see a real explosion, I could have said "Do you need directions?" But I like having my testicles whole and attached to my person, so I kept my mouth shut.

Beyond this, the delivery went rather smoothly. Dropped off meds, saw pretty girls. That's the one reason for a Facility visit for me, they have a lot of pretty girls working there. My company is sadly lacking on that front. Gotta go out and visit other companies to see natural beauties in their wild habitats. With luck, maybe I'll bring one home one day.

During the second to the last stop, one of the more mobile patients approached my copilot and asked a simple question "Did it hurt?" Now there are two possible reasons that I can think of for this question, and sadly he didn't opt for the first and instead finished with one of the classic pick-up lines. Only to immediately dive into a second, followed by a third. My copilot giggled the whole time. We don't think she usually gets that sort of attention.

A second high-point, if it can be considered so, involved an idiot man-child. Now, when you stand in the center of a group of angry women, and then make what can be considered sexist statements to them, you should expect to get a beating. He didn't seem to make that connection as they slapped him. He even asked why I didn't man up and help him. I called him a moron. That got a laugh.

Then the return trip. The trip out was quiet, the one back not so much so. I got to hear about the yelling, and autistic grand children and about a dozen other topics of less interest. I thought about the pretty girls.

My favorite quote from the entire experience was "Animals are alive." This wasn't from a head-paitent or a random crazy hobo, but my copilot just after we narrowly missed turning a living breathing turkey into something that could be squeezed through a feeding tube. I don't know what she meant by it - I think that this was my "If it weren't for my horse" moment. I've tried to dissect the statement, and the best I can come up with was that it was a philosophical observation about the changing of the weather and how animals seem to just re-appear again.

Or maybe she's just dumb.