Pa Went A Little Nuts

Part 5 of 30 -- Psycho Squad

Live and learn. In this post you'll see one of my treasures, the pinnacle of counseling techniques, blue ribbon stuff, makes you wilt. It's not really a technique, just nature, shooting an arrow of realization into a troubled soul. Pa Butler's a good man, only confused for a bunch of reasons. Like old age, confusion, worries, truckers sleeping around, getting divorced, losing their reputation. The cops don't put a guy like that up against the wall. They know he means well.

The Butlers were lovely neighbors of my grandparents. They've known me since the day I was born, and over the years we got old together, them with a huge head start. They got into radio with the CB radio craze. And being close to the interstate they made a lot of trucker friends. That’s a joy but there's also a tragic side; those guys get old and die like everyone else. Or crazy, wrecking their trucks. And all that takes a toll on good people like the Butlers. To sum up their diagnosis, Pa went crazy and threatened to kill Ma for the insurance money, and she might’ve had similar ideas; she was getting a lot of catalogs in the mail.

I tried to feel them out when I was in the neighborhood. “Ma Butler, how you feeling up here, mentally OK or a little dingy?” She tried to act innocent, while sweating it out, sliding the catalogs back into the drawer. And as for Pa, it seemed suspicious when three of Ma’s chairs were put on the curb for the garbage, each one blown to bits. But Ma never suspected, chalking it up to gas pains.

Regardless of age and normal allowances, the time came to take Pa in at the very least, since Ma deserved better than that. Dearest people on the block. But how do you swoop in and bust down the doors, gang-tackle the perps, and pull them out while simultaneously hog-tying them? And if you need a stretcher, with their narrow stairway, forget it. We had to lure them out. Using a girl up the block everyone thought was white trash. Ma and Pa were on their radio and knew we were coming for her.

I radioed them and told Pa, “She’s got that idiot Billy by the nuts and is threatening to make him a soprano!” He radioed me, "10-4," which, quickly looking up the code, is a type of acknowledgement denoting understanding, message received, uh, er, Roger. When the noose was tight, I beckoned Pa and Ma to come out so the girl could see friendly faces and not be afraid. Which worked. They stood on the curb -- charred easy chairs flanking them -- waiting to see dark purple bruises on Billy, perhaps blood streaming down his leg, and didn’t know what hit them when they were suddenly tangled in knots.

They were crying, a sad deal. Ma was collateral damage, and unfortunately she got a little nicked when they tried to cut her free. Then I told Pa bluntly, “It ain’t Billy, Pa... You’ve gone a little nuts, and these nice men want to make sure you don’t pose a danger to yourself or Ma.” He was straining, cussing, giving me the full force of his anger. I told him man to man, “Pa, it’s your turn, pipe down... You’ll be back, better than ever... I’ll check on Ma till you're home and wash the car if you think it needs it.” He melted in the team’s grasp and they carted him off for service. He fingered in everyone’s general direction except mine.

Long Live Trucking

The last few days I’ve been looking at the interstate and wishing I’d been a truck driver. You have the open road everyday and you’re alone with your thoughts. The boss you have, he’s not breathing down your neck like some the ones I’ve known. You pick up a load, you take it somewhere, then move on.

I’ve been thinking about it since last weekend, when I went to a retirement party for three brothers, three truckers who recently retired, all the same time. They started out young, put their time in, and now someone else gets to haul the shipments, while they sit at home and tend the garden or whatever.

It was cute the way their kids had the place decorated, strictly a truck motif, with gas signs, rest stops, etc. I asked one of the guys, Frank, what he was going to miss the most about trucking. At first he said “Nothing!”, which got a good laugh, then he was serious for a moment about missing the open road everyday and being alone with his thoughts.

Ted also got some laughs when he said you don’t have the boss breathing down your neck all the time, with his boss sitting there at the retirement party, wagging a finger and laughing.

And Pete, basically zen, said, “You get your load, you move on, you arrive.” The way he put it really stuck with me.

We gathered around the cake and the daughters were slicing it and putting it on plates for the well-wishers. There were three sons of these guys, too, but only two of them were in town, with Frank Jr. himself being on the road, trucking. The two sons stuck close to their dads, like they were extra happy to have them home permanently. Probably because you can never be sure you’re going to see your dad again when he goes on a trip; our lives are always at risk; you could be driving along, suddenly come upon a stalled car over the next hill, and end up buying the farm. There’s always that, but you have to make a living, so on you go...

Before we dug into the cake, each of them took his turn to thank their families for putting up with them. Most of us had a hard time holding back tears. Frank brought us back to the fun when he told some of the blessings of trucking: “They had trucks when I started trucking, and there’s still trucks when I ended. Not every job can say that. Long live the truck!”

Ted had a few more things to say, then echoed Frank somewhat. “If I was starting out today, I wouldn’t do it any different. Not much has changed. We had trucks then, we have trucks now. Long live the truck.”

And Pete, a rough cut guy with tattoos, and that whole zen thing going, also echoed his beloved brothers, “Trucking is its own magic. Trucking is all-inclusive, with no opposite. It is filled with life and power and the ability to get goods where they need to be. Trucking will live a really, really long time.”

Amen! He ended on an optimistic note. And here's to all you guys on the open road today. As Aunt Alice used to say, "Cheers, dears!"

I Saw a Milk Truck Today

The truck I saw was a lot newer than that, probably brand new. It was shiny and nice, the way milk trucks have to be kept. To see a dirty milk truck, that's barely imaginable.

But just to see a milk truck at all! You know how rare it is to see one. I probably see eight to ten in a year, and of course the high school's just over the way. Whether high school kids even drink milk these days, I don't know. Probably some do ... some don't ... like everything else.

I certainly don't see them pass the road right here in front of the house. That was the first one in a long time.

I probably should explain one other fact: I was right there at the road. It wasn't that I was inside and saw it through the window. The timing was such that it was freaky. I went to the road to get the newspaper just as the truck came by. Entirely different.

You can probably see where I'm going with this, the unusual nature of the truck coming by along with the fact that I was right at the road, less than 10 feet from the truck itself. I couldn't have planned it had I tried. I had no idea it was coming. Had I known, my morning would have been totally different. I would have been periodically checking the clock, etc., then hoping he wasn't early or late.

But as it was, I simply went to the road, entirely unexpecting of anything, and it came by.

The reason I like milk trucks no doubt has to do with the wholesome goodness of milk. It's one of my favorite drinks. I hate to pull rank on anyone, and my purpose in this is not to impress anyone -- far from it, why would I care? -- but I loved milk before it was cool. They started advertising it on TV 20 years ago, or something, and everyone jumped on the bandwagon. I was already there!

So couple the fact that I love milk with the fact that I love interesting trucks, especially when they're antiseptic and beautifully colored, and you'll see why this truck passing by was something of such interest. It would appeal to young and old, mostly children but many older folks, like myself.

And when you're not expecting it! But good grief, there it is, big as life, I couldn't have conjured up a better one if I tried -- isn't life great? It's just the sheer grace of the moment that gets me. Bowls me over. I'm so delighted by life today -- milk truck or no -- that were it to fall on top of me and crush me, I'd look for the blessing in it. You ever get that kind of day?

They Drove For The Love Of Trucking

I've been cooped up at home for a long time, seriously, and I forget sometimes what's going on in the world and the things I don't like. Like the issues I have with modern trucking. I guess I'm like anyone else: out of sight, out of mind. And to think the interstate goes by just south of my house, within a couple miles. But it's not loud, you can barely hear it from that distance. So I forget, leading me, after six months or even a year, to travel, so I can be reminded.

OK, so I'm out there yesterday, taking that interstate, then switching over to another one, like that all day, going from Point A to Point B, like a lot of people in cars on the road do, and I'm getting a serious reeducation into the ways of the world. The farther I go, the more the memories come rushing back. And I feel all the emotions you would expect, especially my sense of building rage, due mostly to three things: 1) Incessant roadwork; 2) Too much congestion; and, 3) Trucking for money.

I'll bet I saw 40 trucks with signs on the back, displayed there for any potential truck drivers who might be easily lured, of companies begging guys to drive for them! A few of them were honorable: "If you've ever had the dream to drive truck, please fulfill it ASAP by calling our career hotline," etc. That's not so bad. A few were less honorable: "If you're looking for an over-the-road career that will help you keep the peace at home by not being there, please call..." Not as good. But most of them were downright despicable: "$$$ We pay top dollar for drivers, earn big, huge, enormous $$$ driving for us!" And naturally they had a phone number, luring whatever poor sap's sorry enough to call.

I'm just going to say it: That made my blood boil. Although, shaking my head, I kept it all in context -- that's the way the world is, that's the way it's gone. The Almighty Dollar! Everything is just naturally reduced these days to a financial goal, the vision of dollar signs dancing in your head, as the be-all and end-all of our existence. You wake up dreaming what you're going to make and it's the last thing you think of at night. Continually calculating. It's very easy to picture what the poor truck driver's doing as he's driving down the road, scratching out on a notepad the hours and miles he's driven times the cents he's getting for each mile. Money, money, money!

So what have we lost? So much... I'm not the oldest guy in the world -- I'm 60, OK? -- but I remember clearly when truck driving was a vocation, even a craft. A young man wanted to drive truck simply to drive truck, for the love of trucking. Money wasn't his big interest. And the truck lines we had back then, it's worlds apart from now. They weren't tainted by money. It wasn't their consuming interest. They just liked the idea of getting cargo in their trucks, packed in there all good and snug, and taking it down the road, sometimes just for the heck of it!

This is serious stuff. A guy I used to know had his regular job and that's where he got his money. Then he saved up for a nice truck and simply took it on the road, hauling stuff because that's what trucks are for. If you bought him as much as a sandwich, he'd be offended. And I couldn't swear to it, but I'd bet he came darned close to the coveted Million Mile Club, because I know he racked up big miles ... doing it in an honorable way, insisting on it as more of a craft than just any other money-grubbing job.

And coincidentally -- or maybe not -- that was back when a trucker would pull the horn for kids passing by. Remember that? Because he was just another guy, not this money-hungering hack, so busy figuring up his next month's check that he doesn't have the time for another human being, a kid. It was Man and Machine, Machine and Man, together in a beautiful synergy that showed off the best of each, and yet both were somehow One. I know I really took those days for granted, and now they're gone...

Maybe old men like me aren't meant to travel the highways anymore. The good old world as it once was has passed us by. Companies are manned by computers, set to melt down to liquid ore if the bottom line fails to increase by the minute. And those living beings who tend their electronic masters are so jaded, if you were to meet one on the street, you'd walk away depressed by the encounter. That guy's eyes were like sharks'. And then the drivers themselves, they'd run you over if it meant another dime. They're in a strange haze, popping pills and blinking at the bright sunlight, drifting from lane to lane from the constant vertigo.

The Three Trucks

In my travels today, I saw three trucks going up the interstate together. It made me think of this story:

The three truckers all worked for the same truck line. It was their job to get the company's goods from Point A to Point B. The boss himself sent them forth, giving them only two rules: 1) Do not go over the speed limit; and, 2) Stay together.

But as they drove, the first one started thinking: Being first, I have to set the pace, but it's almost impossible to go the speed limit 100% of the time. If anyone will be guilty of breaking the rule, obviously they'll blame me. So if that's what they're thinking, I may as well fully exceed the limit and dare the others to keep up. If they keep up, we're all guilty. And if they don't keep up, they'll be guilty of breaking the second rule. Plus, it might be to our benefit to get there early, showing our efficiency. Very brash, but he had them over a barrel.

The second one's thinking: He's speeding up and we're falling behind. He's going at least 10 miles over the limit. I shouldn't go that fast, and yet I can't fall behind. Does one of the boss' two rules take precedence over the other? Surely the more important rule would be not to break the law, and yet, perhaps the first driver knows what he's doing. If he gets there quicker, with more efficiency, maybe he'll be commended. And we'll be condemned because we weren't efficient, while breaking the other rule anyway. So he speeds up.

The third one brings up the rear. He thinks: What's this? Everyone's going way too fast, but I need to keep up. I have the advantage in that there's no one behind me to obey the law and report me. And neither of the guys in front can report me because they're breaking the rule themselves. The thing is, if we share the guilt, we will also share the consequences of our actions, if there are any. If we're asked about speeding, we can always lie. Whereas anything could happen if we're separated; violating the second rule might show us to be incompetent.

The third one's thoughts continue: It's obviously better to arrive together than for me to keep to the speed limit and break the second rule. Or is it? Maybe the boss has it fairly well timed out, and if we speed we'll get there too early. I believe it might be easier to explain falling behind than breaking the speed limit. What would've been the reason to stay together in the first place if it didn't have something to do with mutual accountability? So he slows down.

The second driver then notices the third truck falling behind and thinks it over: It could be there's something wrong with his truck. Meaning we're not together. Or it could be that he's had a sudden realization of the dangers of getting there too fast. He's probably mentally calculating the advantage he'll have over us as to why he fell behind. He'll have us dead to rights, accusing us of violating both rules, whereas he would've violated only one rule. Plus, if I fall behind and driver number one continues on, that will put me in good not only with the third driver but the boss when we're questioned. Because there's safety in numbers, two against one. The first guy will show up, having sped, along with our united accusation, and he'll be blamed for our falling behind, our conscience having overridden the rule. So the second truck slows down.

The first driver keeps going for a while, then notices no one's in the rear view mirror. Of course he knows how terrible it'll look if he shows up without them. So he slows down and completely turns around. He drives back, thinking it over: We've all violated both rules, but if we get back in the pack, we can talk it over and decide mum's the word. Then we can drive the speed limit and stay together, as we probably should have in the first place.

He gets back to the other two, who have pulled over to the side of the road. They're glad he shows up and explains the situation: We're all equally guilty, leaving out the part of him being the first to speed and leave them behind. The others agree: We'll be a lot better off if we don't point fingers, but if we simply go the speed limit and get there together.

Which turns out to be exactly what happened! The boss says, "You stuck to the speed limit and you stayed together. Excellent! I honestly didn't think you could do it." He gives them all huge raises and his three beautiful daughters' hands in marriage. Finally, years later, the boss dies and leaves the trucking company to his honorable sons-in-law, the happiest ending any story can ever have.

The Gods Of Interchanges And Junctions

To me, there's plenty of incentives for being a safe driver. The biggest is survival, living to drive another day. Others down the list are, avoiding the intrinsic inconvenience of wrecking, paying big fines, and having to revise your day's schedule at the last minute.

But there's another great incentive: You don't want to piss off the gods of interchanges and junctions. Why, you ask, would there be gods of interchanges and junctions? Well, set aside your evil doubts and I will explain. Where do we all meet, and where then would there be the greatest concentration of human energy in the world? It'd have to be interchanges and junctions. You literally can't approach a junction without there being three other cars at the other three corners.

Now, since all gods are human projections that somehow became living spirits, where else would you expect to find them in the modern world? It started -- I'm estimating -- probably in the 1920s when everyone started driving more than before. These powerful projections felt a terrible recurring blockage, having to stop at every interchange and junction. Then some of them got out of the car, and pretty soon they took up residence there. Then, as would be their natural wont, they assumed lordship.

It blew my mind when I first realized this. Because, remember, a month ago I had the brief post on "The Traffic Light Lord"? The city and county has been installing a bunch of cameras at stoplights. Then, mysteriously, city and county employees were sensing a great force, causing many of them to literally explode, or worse, turn to stone. In either event, they're dead. No one knows (or knew why), but this has to be it, what I then discerned, the terrible wrath of the gods of interchanges and junctions!

As the discernment process unfolded, I've been bringing together certain facts, that it's our behavior on the road that's being rewarded or punished by them. With good driving being rewarded, and the driving of the other 90% being punished. How worthy are you? is the main point. This is what we're dealing with!  

So, it turns out, the better you drive, the better your trip will be. They're doing all this very actively, even reading our thoughts, watching our progress, and matching it up with others on the road. Sometimes our road karma is tied in with other people's. The worst jams, clogs, bottlenecks, and wrecks are reserved for the worst sinners. So when a guy gets drunk and goes off the steep embankment and his car bursts into flames and he dies a horrendous death, don't feel so bad; he deserved it. But don't feel good about it either, or you could be next. They're always watching. Even when you're at home and not even near a road, they're saving it up to get you later, or to let you pass unscathed.

Traffic police are their pawns. You know how you've been passed by a thousand drivers going 90 mph? And you yourself are only going 61 in a 60 mph zone but get stopped? It's because the gods of interchanges and junctions are doing you a favor, in their own way. They want you to slow down so you don't accumulate bad road karma. As to the others, they have a bitter end in sight, usually a massive pileup, a fiery crash, a bridge-out situation where vandals stole the warning sign, etc. I heard of one guy, his body was blown to bits. There wasn't anything left. His funeral was closed-casket because there wasn't anything in it.

After I figured all this out, about the gods, for a while I was afraid to drive. Then I ran out of toilet paper, and once the leaves of my trees were gone, I had no choice, I had to go to the store. While there, I also got food, which I also needed. And I didn't have a bit of trouble. Every stoplight was green, and there was no competition at the stop lights. I kept in my own lane, kept it below the speed limit, and thought happy thoughts, and I was able to pass through without incident. That night in a dream I saw their smiling faces, meaning they think I'm a good driver!

But what do I see just yesterday? Two semis collided south of town. One was carrying old battery acid for recycling and the other live skunks for delivery to zoos around the country. What a mess! The skunks were mad anyway, but once the acid reached them, they became irate. They let out a stink, and of course a skunk in acid is an environmental nightmare, the farthest thing imaginable from what is pleasant. The whole thing was due to the gods of interchanges and junctions! I guess one of the drivers had a terrible driving record, and the other was going just a titch over the speed limit. What else could they (the gods) do but make them collide? It's kind of funny when you think of it...

Drive safely! But know this, even if you're a completely safe driver, you're not really safe. Because they need a perfect sacrifice now and then.