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.

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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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Why Work For A Living?

So this past week, my next-door neighbor had his grass taken out and replaced with river rock. (I use the term “grass” loosely as it really was a garden of weeds). The new landscaping looks nice—not that I feel compelled to copy it, I like having a lawn. Still, the neighbor’s yard looks pretty good.

I said as much to the landscaper as he was finishing up. After thanking me, the man said my neighbor had told him he’d gotten tired of watering and mowing and thought the rock would be easier to maintain.

This was news to me. What watering and mowing? I’ve lived beside the guy for years and never known him to do either. He usually waits until it gets hot, cuts down the knee-high weeds with a weed eater and that’s that. Nothing grows again until the next year. Not that I care, it’s his house, he can do what he wants. I just found it odd that the reasoning behind putting in rock was to save work that he doesn’t do.

So, that got me thinking. If I could figure out a way to get paid to save myself work that I don’t do, I could retire early. Like tomorrow. It wouldn’t even be that difficult. And I could increase my net worth every time I came up with something else that I didn’t do—and then find a way to not do it better. I’d also simultaneously be increasing the amount of free time I had. It’s a win-win!

So, if anyone needs me, I’ll be out of touch for a while, pondering the various possibilities. They are seemingly endless. I’m not sure why I haven’t thought of any of this before but I guess I was too busy—working. ~

 

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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Not Enough Time

This post will be a bit more serious than what I normally write. No, it’s not about politics or anything controversial, but the humorous aspect that is usually infused into my blog posts is taking a temporary vacation this week. Guess I’m just feeling a little nostalgic.

Recently, I ran across a publication with an article I’d written. This was from 18 years ago and I found that nothing much has changed in nearly two decades. What I wrote then still describes my daily routine. I’ve included some excerpts from that article below.

I’m in a hurry—again. I’m always in a hurry. From the time I get up in the morning until I go to bed at night, it seems as though there is never quite enough time to accomplish everything I’ve set out to do that day. Thus, I have become a procrastinator. Certain things deemed unimportant at the moment are relegated to that vast expanse of time known as tomorrow, a realm where the constraints of hours and minutes have not yet gotten a grasp. But of course, tomorrow is only a figment of the imagination, just a place in my mind that never actually becomes a reality. For with each new day, I must once again decide what to do and what to leave undone, until my life has developed into a pattern. A pattern which leads to giving up this to get that, trading one thing for another, sacrificing here in order to gain there and so on, all for the sake of time.

Time is the great equalizer. Each of us has been given the same amount of time. Whether young or old, rich or poor, we all have twenty-four hours in a day to achieve our goals. It’s what we do with our time that counts. What do we put off until later? What do we leave for tomorrow? And more importantly, what do we make time for?

People often use as an excuse, “I don’t have time,” which is not entirely true. We always have time for that which we have decided is of the most importance to us. If there isn’t enough time, it’s because we choose to use our time to do something else. We make time for the things really important or needful. The busiest man in the world will always have time to rush his child to the hospital in an emergency. It’s all a matter of perspective.

 After reading what I’d written, I started thinking about how I’d measured up. Had I accomplished anything in the 18 years since this article was published? Looking back, I can say that I’m somewhat satisfied with how I’ve spent my time; I’ve managed to write and publish 16 books, I’ve written over 500 songs—and recorded most of them, I’ve also recorded about three thousand other songs, painted numerous pictures, built furniture, etc. And, with a lot of help from my wife, I’ve raised three children who are autonomous adults, productive members of society, and able to function in a responsible manner. So, on the one hand, I think I’ve used my time wisely. On the other hand, there is still a lot I want to do, a lot I haven’t gotten done because, well, I didn’t make time for it all. Maybe in another 18 years, I’ll revisit the subject. Hopefully, I’ll be a little closer to attaining my goals. ~

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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If I Had A Boat

I’ve never owned a boat. Never wanted to, really. Not that a boat isn’t fun, or that I’m afraid of the water. I just always figured a boat was a hassle I didn’t need. Sort of like a car; three’s the cost of maintaining it, putting gas and oil in it, and a lot of other associated costs—except I need a car, well, pickup in my case, I guess, but the idea is the important thing.

But aside from all of that, I don’t really have time to spend trolling around—or speeding around—in a boat. Things to do, you know: like go to work. So, no time for a boat.

The reason I bring this up is because, this past week, on my way to work, a woman at the gas station made it a point to ask me if I had a boat. I should point out that this lady was not working at the station, not really sure what she was doing there, I guess. Just a crazy lady hanging around to bug customers, I think. When I told her I did not have a boat, she looked stunned. “Why not”

“Don’t want one, and don’t need one.”

“But if you had a boat you could take me out in it,” she informed me.

Now, I’m not exactly prone to being the social type in the first place. Even it f I had a boat, I wouldn’t be taking a lot of people out in it, especially not crazy people. “Could, I suppose. But wouldn’t.”

“Why?”

“Better things to do than take people boating,” I said, and then got in my pickup and closed the door. (Oh, yeah, I’m not exactly prone to being real conversational with strange people at the gas station either. Some call me rude; I prefer to characterize it as blunt).

The lady got the hint and moved on to talk to the guy on the other side of the island, presumably to ask him about a boat. As I left the station, I thought to myself, I think I just found another excellent reason to never own a boat: all the crazy people inviting themselves out on it.

So, just in case anyone is wondering, no, I do not own a boat. ~

 

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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