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I
drove a big brown UPS delivery truck for twenty years, and was never happier
than when I pulled into the local hub for the last time on October 23, 1997. As
I coasted into that same old space where I always parked # 59299, along with
the great captain of our souls, I might well have uttered,
“It
is finished.”
Oddly
enough, now two decades into my retirement, I am still delivering packages for
“the greatest ship in the shipping business” but only… in my dreams. For at
least once a month, in that ethereal nether world we call sleep, I find myself
with a few packages whose addresses I don’t recognize; and running desperately
late.
Years
earlier, as a matter of fact closer to the beginning, than the ending of my
tenure, my route included both businesses and residences in one quadrant of a
small city, And several times a month my deliveries included street numbers on
5th Street, SE. I can tell you that 5th Street, SE was very much like any other
street in "Winter Haven," (the location of the famous "Cypress
Gardens,") with one exception.
…
a pesky, non-descript dog which chased my truck every time I rolled past the
house, (or more succinctly, the yard) in which he resided.
And
I can tell you, I wearied of my frequent confrontation with the little mongrel.
To my credit, however, I did not run the beast into the ground, as a truck
driver once did my own dog. Nevertheless, I formulated a plan of attack.
There
just happened to be a 7-11 located near the infamous site of my all-too
frequent encounters with “Rover.” And on a particular day when I was scheduled
to deliver a couple of packages “on the street where he lived” I pulled into
the parking lot of that convenience store, hopped down the steps of my vehicle,
walked into the door, stepped up to the beverage machine, pulled a “Big Gulp”
cup from the holder, placed it under the ice dispenser, and finally, filled it
to the brim with syrupy, brown Coca-Cola.
Returning
to my truck, I hopped back up the steps from whence I came, sat down, buckled
my seat belt, started the engine, and aimed my truck towards my next
destination. I suppose if I’d given my mission a code name, it might well have
been
…
Destination Dog
As
I approached my little friend’s grassy hangout, I saw him rush into the road,
and suddenly he was “neck and neck” with the front tire of my truck. However,
unlike dozens of those previous animate/inanimate races which had transpired in
the past, this time, rather than applying the gas, I applied the brake, turned
off the ignition, grabbed the Big Gulp, rushed down the steps, chased down old
Rover, and
…
poured that nice, brown, syrupy mess all over the poor pooch!
And
never so much as looking back, I retraced my path to the truck, hopped up the
steps, mounted the driver’s seat, strapped the seat belt around me, turned on
the ignition, and drove away; leaving the hapless critter “to his own devices.”
Needless
to say, dear readers, old Rover never chased # 59299 again.
(And
I think I know why)!
Post-Script
- Speaking of dreaming UPS dreams...
Last
night after I finished writing the previous article, I walked into my dark
bedroom, reached into a laundry basket which contains several dozen pair of
socks of various types and colors, blindly grabbed a pair, and slipped them on.
Only to wake up a few minutes ago and discover I was wearing the one remaining
pair of UPS monogrammed socks which remain from that era so long ago.
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