Through the Eyes of a Delivery Goddess |
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At some point during my first year as a paperboy, Bob decided to take a week-long vacation with his then girlfriend, so I begged my first husband to help me out on Sunday while Bob was gone. He was such a good sport about it - he later admitted it annoyed him... a lot. I had a Dodge Dakota pick-up truck with a sliding back window, which matched up to the sliding front window in the cap on the bed of the truck. It's greatest advantage was extra air on warm nights, but that was pretty much it. At the end of Bob's vacation week, David and I started into Sunday with a sense of apprehension. In hind sight, it might have been fear. We decided the best plan of attack to deliver 1100 large Sunday newspapers was to put them all together, (Sunday papers usually come in 3 or 4 sections that need assembled or "stuffed") then bag them all and throw them into the bed of the truck. David would ride in the back on the mound of green bags and fire them through the sliding windows into the front seat while I tossed them out the window at the proper addresses. Since I knew the route, I'd have to be the one to toss the papers - it just made sense that I be the one to drive. It didn't take long, though, after sliding around on the slippery bags, for David to become motion sick. Well, I was born with my mother's stomach, and wasn't sure how long I'd last in the back, but figured I'd have to give it a try. I rode in the back on the tailgate and barked out directions to David while he drove, and I dropped papers off of the tailgate. That lasted for awhile, but I finally ended up sick, too - so he had to swap me posts again. I think we had to make sevearl swaps during the night, but we finally got everything delivered. I have to tell you all, that seeing David try to maintain balance on a huge pile of plastic wrapped, five pound newspapers was pretty funny. I'm sure you've all seen, or perhaps even experienced, the room of plastic balls that is currently popular at many toddler arcades - you just sink and roll when you try to walk. There is no way to make any sort of controlled motion on those balls. It's not much of a story, but it's a fond memory. I have another story that relates to "it's your turn now" but was experienced by friends of mine, and has nothing to do with any kind of delivery. It's an amusing story I'm sure you'll all appreciate. Two business friends were on their way home from a meeting that was about 5 hours from their house. It had been a long day and they were both tired; the comfort of the boss's Cadillac made it difficult to keep their eyelids open. They agreed to take turns driving for as long as they each could tolerate while the other slept - they both needed to be back at work in the morning, so it wasn't like they could stop at a hotel somewhere along the way. AT one point, the boss was sleeping in the passenger seat of his cozy Cadi, so the co-worker pulled into a dark parking lot where a semi-truck driver had crawled into his sleeper to get a few winks. Many times, trucks leave their engines run, and occasionally, even leave their lights on. The driver pulled right up to the front of the semi and put the Cadillac in park, then stiffened his arms to make it look like he was bracing himself against impact. He let out a blood-curdling scream as the Cadillac's owner raised up out of a sound sleep, nearly splattering himself all over the roof of the car. The driver relaxed his arms and took his hands from the wheel, waiting for the passenger's brain to take in every detail of their surroundings. They refused to talk about any conversation that emerged from the incident, but they both claimed they were awake for the remainder of the trip. Kids - don't try that stunt at home without training in CPR. |