Waiting -- and Pictures From the Road

Currently. After spending the past week and a little more in Texas and the west, I'm on my way back east. At I write this, I am sitting at a small truck stop in Brush, Colorado (on I-76 just east of Fort Morgan, about 85 miles east of Denver), on my way to Minnesota for a delivery Friday morning near Minneapolis.

If you have read this blog any length of time (or have backtracked to earlier entries), you already know that I love running out west – would run out west all the time if I could. So, this past week and a half has just been like a vacation to me. I always love driving, the lifestyle it involves (with rare exceptions that are made up of frustrations that come with any job), but driving out west, I think I am happier and more content than any other time on the road.

Since last time. Last time I wrote from Kingsville, Texas. Much of the past week since then, I've been waiting. But it hasn't been too bad, and I don't mind downtime occasionally.

Man From Rome. Right after finishing my writing last time, and going back out to my truck, there was a truck parked next to me where one hadn't been before I'd gone into the truck stop. I noticed on the door that the trucking company was located in Cedartown, Georgia, which is only about 15 miles from my hometown of Rome.

The driver was sitting in his truck on the phone. When he got off the phone, I rolled down my window and waved at him to get his attention. I told him I noticed his trucking company was located in Cedartown, and wondered where he lived. (I figured if anyone drove for a company in Cedartown, they had to be from around there.) He told me he lived in Rome, and told me his name.

I asked him whereabouts in Rome he lived, and when he told me, it was the same road that all of my grandmother's side of the family is from. When I told him that I still had a great-uncle and some cousins living on that road, and mentioned the name Dowdy, he starting reeling off names of many of my cousins. He knows quite a few folks in that side of my family, and lives within site across the road from where a cousin of mine lives.

From that beginning we talked for about 30 minutes. He is 68, a little older than my Daddy, and told me he's been driving a truck for over 44 years. Longer than I've been alive. Talk about perspective. For a while after we stopped talking, I sat in my truck wondering, even as much as I love trucking and this life on the road, if I could imagine doing it for 44 years. My mind couldn't even wrap itself around the thought.

He was a super-nice guy, and it was so eerie to run into someone in the middle of The Great State of Texas from my hometown – and even more, knew many of my extended family. It's times like that when I realize that as vast as this beautiful country of ours seems sometimes, especially in the wide-open spaces out west, that it really is a small place, and the most common connections can crop up in the most unexpected places. Like going to China and running into your neighbor down the street in a local restaurant.

I wish I had been able to talk with him a little longer about his trucking experiences. I think I would have learned a great deal.

Waiting, Part I. The next morning (this would have been Tuesday, April 15, if you care to keep track), I delivered the load I had to Weslaco. By the time I was done there, I still didn't have my next load. I was able to park at the warehouse I delivered to for a little while, but after an hour, I decided to go ahead and find another place to park so I wouldn't wear out my welcome. I finally found a Flying J a little bit north of Weslaco, in Edinburgh, Texas. I went there to wait.

Waiting is part of every truck driver's life: waiting on the next load, waiting to be loaded or unloaded, waiting to get a truck or trailer repaired, waiting in line to fuel, waiting in traffic because of accidents or construction, waiting on bad weather to clear out. Just waiting. I have often thought during my 3 years in a truck that if someone can't wait well, trucking isn't for them.

I don't know that I'm any more patient than anyone else, but my passions and interests are inclined for such an environment. If I have a book to read, a laptop to use, a video to watch, I am content. So downtime just means time for me to pursue those things that I love to do anyway. I cannot remember a time since I first learned to read that I haven't habitually carried a book with me most everywhere I would go.

My earliest clear memory of this is when I was about nine years old, going over to Nanny and Boe's house (my grandparents, where I spent about half the time), or to visit my Daddy for a weekend, I had a little gym bag, packed with my books and always a notebook for writing. My Nanny used to call it my “satchel”, and remarked often, laughing, that she did not believe it would be possible for me to go anywhere without it.

I can hear her even now as I write this: “You're just like Uncle Andrew, sittin' in the middle of your suitcase.” (I never met Uncle Andrew – he had died before I was born --, but he was my grandmother's uncle, and I know him well through my grandmother's awesome stories.)

Anyway, back to what I was talking about: waiting. One advantage of driving for a large company like Schneider is that waiting on a load isn't usually something that happens. Maybe I have to wait several hours for a load, but never before have I waiting in terms of days.

But, when you go into areas where freight is soft for whatever reason, sometimes you have to wait. And so it was for me in south Texas last week. It wasn't until the next afternoon that I got my next load. But it was more than worth the wait!

I was to pick up a loaded trailer in Laredo, and take it to Oxnard, California! Further west, including west Texas! I'll wait anytime for that kind of load.

So, last Wednesday saw me driving up to Laredo. I had to be in Oxnard by Saturday night. 1800 paid miles (which meant about 1900 or more real miles). Plenty of time. I could leave early Thursday morning, take my time, and enjoy the drive.

Waiting, Part II. So, you've got it all planned out, do you, Allan? Leave Thursday morning early, take your time, huh?

Not so fast.

I got to Laredo, found my trailer, and noticed a tag attached to the front of the trailer. Usually those tags indicate a trailer with a major problem. I got out and looked; sure enough, it had a problem. In big block letters on the tag was the warning: “DON'T MOVE”.

Part of the main support frame of the trailer, between the two axles on the driver's side, had a big crack in it. Not good.

The Laredo drop yard has a small maintenance shop for working on trailers (lots of trailers coming across the border have problems), but they were closed when I got there. I had to wait until the next morning at 7:00 for them to come in.

No leaving early for California. The trailer had been there for a while, and someone had obviously noticed the problem. Why hadn't they already repaired it, I wondered. No answer came.

Thursday morning, I talked to the mechanics, they told me to bring the trailer over to the shop so they could look at it. Repairing it would take some major welding. And time.

So. I'm waiting again.

Like I said: I don't mind waiting. But with a load to California, waiting meant the clock ticking, giving me less time to deliver the load on time. Instead of taking my time, I'd be rushing, trying to make up for starting late.

Finally, about 1:30 that afternoon, the trailer was repaired, and I could leave.

I stopped the first night at a rest area on I-10 in west Texas, about 15 miles west of Saragosa, Texas. Friday, I made it to Eloy, Arizona, between Tucson and Phoenix. I made the delivery on time in Oxnard on Saturday.

I had been to the same place in Oxnard back in February, and had found a small place I could park that wasn't in any of my truck stop guides. It only had four spots for trucks, so I was hoping it would have room for me, since I'd told Schneider I'd be available on Sunday morning. The only other options I had were to drive to the Schneider maintenance facility just south of downtown LA or the Operating Center in Fontana, 60 and 100 miles away, respectively.

I found room at the little place in Oxnard, and still didn't have my next load. So I settled in to wait.

Waiting, Part III. Sunday morning came. Still no load. Sunday afternoon came. Still no load.

Late in the afternoon, my satellite unit started beeping. My next load.

Pick up an empty trailer at the same place I'd delivered on Saturday (they didn't have any when I was there the day before), and take it to the LA maintenance yard. Drop the empty trailer, and pick up a loaded trailer.

It was supposed to be unloaded Monday morning in Commerce, California. That's 7 whole miles. Wow. Don't know if I can make it 7 miles – let me plan my driving schedule for this load.

My plan mostly involved getting to LA Sunday afternoon, and commencing to wait some more. Til Monday morning.

But, I'm in southern California, perfect weather, I'm out west. So waiting isn't a problem in the same way it would be if I were waiting in Newark, New Jersey, or some equally awful place (though it would be hard to beat NJ for awful quotient in my opinion).

No more waiting. I delivered that load Monday morning, and then got my next load. I was to go down to Otay, California, to the Schneider drop yard there (Otay is just southeast of San Diego, right on the Mexican border), pick up a load going to Bloomington, Minnesota. That's the load I'm currently under.

I picked up the load on Monday, and shut down in Fontana Monday night. Yesterday, I drove north on I-15 through Las Vegas, into Utah, where I-70 begins, and made it as far as Richfield last night. And now I'm in Brush, Colorado.

I-70 through Utah and Colorado is one of my favorite stretches of road, especially going through Glenwood Canyon. The weather was good, traffic wasn't too bad, and the drive was beautiful.

For the first time in a while, I took some pictures. I'll post them below.

Pictures from the road: Richfield, Utah.  The view from the truck stop I was at last night.











Pictures from the road: Vail, Colorado.  I took these pictures just east of Vail at a rest stop on I-70 today.

I suppose that's enough for now (or more than enough for some of you, I'm sure).

Until next time . . . keep the wheels rollin' . . . when you aren't waiting . . .

Allan

No Better Place

The best place on earth. I'm writing this from inside an Arby's at the Love's truck stop in Kingsville, Texas, home of the largest ranch in the United States (at 1289 square miles, it's larger than the state of Rhode Island). But the fact that I'm in Texas – anywhere – means that I'm on my own personal hallowed ground. There's no place I'd rather be than Texas. Even as much as I love it further west, especially Montana, Utah, Arizona, Nevada, nowhere else is Texas. I love Georgia, have my roots there, and most of the people I love most in this world are there; but Texas has an exalted place in the mythology of the sacred in my life.

I first came to Texas in August, 1983, on my way fresh out of high school, on my way to college, the ministry, and changing the world. Coming down I-20 and seeing the Dallas cityscape rise up out of the flat spaces suddenly over a rise awed me as an 18-year-old. It was so big – bigger than anything I'd ever seen. I was inspired.

Over the course of living in Dallas for almost nine years, I became in my soul and marrow a Texan. I never uttered words more proudly than in response to the question, “where are you from?”: “I'm from Dallas, Texas”; or the variant after I'd been there a few years, and loved all of what Texas was, all that it represented, and not just Dallas: “I'm from Texas.”

I moved from Dallas to Chicago in 1991, and loved living there, but never felt like I belonged to Chicago or it to me, in the same way I imbibed Texas. I was a Texan living in Chicago. When I married and moved to Florida, even after ten years, I never grew attached to the place, though I liked it, enjoyed my life there because of Charlotte and her family. But the moment my marriage was wending its way to its sad end, I left Florida, and have not missed it, though I have ached for Charlotte millions of times.

Texas is in my blood, my thoughts, in a way I cannot fathom myself, much less explain. But I am not alone in this experience: Terry, who is from Oklahoma, has a similar love affair with this place. He was here in this same place only last Friday (yes, this very place; he delivered to the very same place I'm going tomorrow). He stopped here to take a short break; I stopped here for the night, especially after our talk: “ You've got to stop at the Love's in Kingsville. There's this girl up at the front register ...”

And so there is.

Since last time. Last time I wrote to you (for you know it is to you I write, don't you? Only you.), I was on my way to deliver a load to Macclenny, Florida, just west of Jacksonville. After that, I picked up a load in Jacksonville that was going all the way to Los Angeles, but I took it only as far as the Schneider drop yard in Reserve, Louisiana. The rest of the way, it would probably be taken by a team.

On my way through Florida, I was able to stop and have breakfast with my Daddy and his wife, Hilda. We enjoyed our short visit, and once more I was amazed at how lucky I am to be able to see people I love all over the country as I travel. And, you may recall (but probably not since your poor noggin has more to keep up with than the comings and goings of the Lonesome Dove Xpress), I had just seen my Daddy the week before up in Chicago when we both happened to be up there.

I made it to Reserve on Friday night and stayed there until Saturday morning. Schneider has a small maintenance facility there at the drop yard, and they have a small area where drivers can relax, watch tv, bring in a book or laptop, do laundry, or whatever. I took my laptop inside to check e-mail, read some blogs, and maybe do some writing.

There were several other drivers in there, and we all started talking. It was a most enjoyable time. One driver, who was the only person inside when I went in, and I talked about ordering a pizza. His truck was in the shop, I was already out of hours to run (which meant I couldn't even drive my truck for food legally), and there was no company car available. And we couldn't find a place that delivered to Reserve (where there was literally nothing).

But, at last, one of the other drivers who wandered in and heard us talking of our desperate plight, a young lady named Mary, offered to take one of us to pick up the pizza. I got the assignment, and off we go. Mary is a bulk driver for Schneider (bulk drivers haul the tanker trucks, like the ones that deliver gasoline and other things you've probably seen on the road), and it was cool hearing her story. She had a brand new Toni Braxton CD (greatest hits, I think; “Unbreak My Heart” is my favorite of hers), so we jammed to that on the way Papa John's.

We had called Papa John's earlier on the suggestion of another driver who had come in and was from that area, and they at first had told us they would deliver it. Then they called and said they couldn't – it was too far.

When we got there to pick it up, they told us that because we had to come get it after they had told us they'd deliver, it was no charge. Free pizza, new friends, and pleasant conversation on a Friday night – what could be better? (Only if it happened in Texas.)

Saturday morning, I was given a load to pick up in Zachary, Louisiana, just north of Baton Rouge, going to Pennington, Alabama, in the southwest part of that state. I delivered the load on Sunday, and picked up a load at the same place going to Weslaco, Texas.

As I mentioned above, Terry delivered to this same place last week. Talk about bizarre!

Speaking of Terry . . .

Terry. Terry came back on the road last Wednesday, and we've talked most every day since then. He had a great time off, was able to get his truck from Dallas up to Arkansas, and has been living the high life with his recent loads to Texas, and then to California, where he is now.

Terry is doing well, and would surely send his greetings to you if he knew I was writing you at this moment.

Miscellania. I finished the Journals of Lewis and Clark I was reading, and am now a good way through a collection of writings by Henry Thoreau, the largest of which is Walden . Thoreau's call to his readers to “simplify, simplify, simplify” their lives, his sometimes solitary retreats into a simpler life, and his credo of individualism (making choices, taking responsibility) resonate with me. I haven't read anything by Thoreau since college (that I remember; and I probably would), so this is a welcome journey for me. On deck is Boswell's Life of Samuel Johnson , which I have never read. At 1700 pages, it will be with me for a while.

I'm loving, like a newfound toy on Christmas morning, listening more to XM Sonic Theater, enjoying audio books and dramas while cruising down the road in my big orange truck.

More I can always find to write, but the seat here in Arby's is getting awfully hard and I'm getting awfully sore. And, in such a way I am motivated to part company with you until next time.

Until next time . . . keep the wheels rollin' . . .

Allan from Texas

Hello From Columbia, South Carolina

Since last time. In the last week and a half, I have been bouncing between north and south in the east like a big orange ping-pong ball. When I first got back home to the truck and road, my first load was to pick up a load in Rome, Georgia, which had never happened before. I got to see Mama and Cindy for a little while that first night. That load was delivering up near Buffalo, New York. When I got to Buffalo, it was cold and snowing.

I mentioned in the last entry that I was on my way to Memphis with a load I picked up in Buffalo.

Then I went up to Wisconsin, to Green Bay, where Schneider's headquarters is. I always like going up to Wisconsin. My Daddy was working in Chicagoland that week, so on my return trip through there with a load going to South Carolina, I got to stop for the night at the Schneider OC in Gary, Indiana, and Daddy came over, picked me up, and we got to go out to eat and spend some good time together.

My next load was to pick up an empty trailer at the Kimberly Clark I had delivered to Saturday in Graniteville (just across the state line from Augusta, Georgia) and drive about 150 miles over to Bennettsville and pick up a very heavy load of paper rolls going up to Du Bois, Pennsylvania. It proved to be a very tiring and frustrating day, largely because I made it so.

The Kimberly Clark facility didn't have any empty Schneider trailers, so they sent me to a Target facility in Lugoff, South Carolina. No problem. When I got the trailer, I inspected it, as always, and it was a newer trailer that just had its annual inspection in January, and there were no problems that I could see with it. So off I went to Bennettsville.

I had planned to get loaded and then make it as far as I comfortably could, probably 200 or 300 miles, before shutting down. The load had to be in Pennsylvania the next day by midnight, and at almost 600 miles, it was easily done the way I had projected things.

Then there's that old “the best laid plans of mice and men” thing that kicks in sometimes. Sunday was the day for it to kick in for me.

I got to the shipper where I was going to pick up this load of huge paper rolls (they stand about 9 feet tall and are about 6 feet in diameter and are very heavy). The trailer was dirty with trash and debris from past loads, so I got in the trailer to sweep it out. I had my flashlight, and when I got to the nose of the trailer, there were some places where small puddles of water had collected in the corners. It had been raining heavily the past few days in South Carolina, and it was obvious the water came from a leak, though I couldn't see any holes or gashes (part of the regular inspection of a trailer is looking for those, and I hadn't seen them when I picked up the trailer; and I also didn't notice the water in the front of the trailer – it couldn't be seen without getting up in the front of the trailer, which I had not done when picking it up). The shipper wouldn't load the trailer with a leak, of course.

So I got on the phone with Schneider's weekend support shift (notorious among drivers for long wait times and incompetent help) to tell them what was going on and find out what they wanted me to do. As I was sitting there for 30 minutes on hold (not an unusual occurrence), I saw the plans I had made for getting pretty far up the road evaporate.

Puff.

I was told to take the trailer to the Charlotte OC, 90 miles away, and leave it so the maintenance shop could repair it. Then, I was to go about 20 miles over to Holly Hill, North Carolina, to pick up another empty trailer, and return to Bennettsville to be loaded.

That was not a problem in and of itself because I was being paid for those miles to move the trailers, and miles are miles are miles. If I'm rolling, I'm generally seeing dollar signs coming from it.

There were two other problems, however, that were coming up for me: (1) by the time I drove on all the little two lane highways, little towns with speed traps, scores of traffic lights, and tons of traffic (especially for a Sunday), to Charlotte, Holly Hill and then back to Bennettsville, and finally got loaded, I would be close to my 14 hour limit for the day. And there is nothing around Bennettsville as far as a place a truck can park for 10 hours. (2) My route up to Pennsylvania was largely on US highways and state highways, with only about 200 miles of interstate going up I-81 through Virginia. With 600 miles to go, in the rain, it would be impossible to legally make it in one day.

So, when I got to Charlotte, I called the weekend shift at Schneider central command once more to try to get a solution (my solution was to move the pick-up or the delivery time back a day). The person I spoke with told me they wouldn't change the pick-up or delivery time. When I told her I'd be at the shipper out of hours to legally run, and nowhere close to go, she suggested that I got down to Florence, South Carolina, almost 30 miles away, to a truck stop there. That was not a practical option, because that would have put me even further away from where I was going.

So I was basically on my own. That's not a good feeling for a truck driver to have.

I got the empty trailer in Holly Hill and trudged back to Bennettsville. I planned to ask the place I was picking up (a paper company) if I could park on their property to take my break. If they said “no”, I didn't know what to do but drive over to Florence and see if there was any parking left that late in the day (there probably would have been at the time I would have gotten there).

Thankfully, the security guard at the gate told me it would be no problem if I parked for my break on their property (basically on the side of the large driveway leading up the front gate, which had plenty of room). Relief. One problem solved.

I got loaded with no problems, and I didn't go over my 14 hour limit for the day.

I still had the problem of having to go 600 miles on horrible roads (as far as speed and traffic were concerned) in the rain the next day.

I woke up early the next morning (this past Monday) and started as soon as I could legally. I decided to do the best I could, and when I got to a good spot to stop on I-81 in Virginia, I'd be able to more accurately gauge my progress and the possibility of getting the load delivered on time (legally and safely). I stopped up in Greenville, Virginia, to scale the load (I was so close to the legal limit, I thought I might be overweight on one of my axles, but I was 200 pounds under, so it was okay) at a Pilot truck stop there. I had made better time than I thought I would, but it was still going to be close.

By the time I got to I-70 in Maryland, I realized I wasn't going to be able to make it. I still had 150 miles to go, and only 1 and a half hours of driving time left out of my 11 hours. No way I could make the Lonesome Dove Xpress average over 80 miles per hour.

So I called my new regular dispatcher. A little background: when Terry and I quit teaming in December, I was assigned a new dispatch team based in Charlotte. The woman with whom I dealt most of the time (the few times I talked to her) was new, and it wasn't long before she left, leaving me to deal with her immediate supervisor, a man named Michael who had a personality and manner that was very brusque and (to me) arrogant. I just didn't like him, but it wouldn't matter most of the time unless I needed to interact with him directly, a very rare event. When I got back to the truck after my time in Rome, I had a message on my satellite unit that told me that I had been assigned to another dispatch team.

I called the new team to introduce myself, and talked to a lady who was very friendly, and I could tell I would like this board better already. The person I will deal with most of the time, Steve, has proven to remind me of the guy Terry and I dealt with in Memphis, Julian (a stellar member of Schneider's team in West Memphis). He has been great, and I love being on this new team.

So I called Monday afternoon to explain the situation, and also to let him know that I had tried to solve the problem over the weekend with the support folks to no avail. I told him I would need to push out the delivery time and the reasons why. He was very supportive and understanding and told me to do whatever I needed to do to be safe and legal.

So I sent in a satellite message telling them I'd deliver the next morning as soon as I legally could get there. Problem solved.

I stopped for the night in Breezewood, Pennsylvania, at a truck stop I'd never stopped at before. It's a TA truck stop (not usually my favorite place to shut down), but this one was very nice and had lots of nice facilities for drivers. I found a lounge upstairs (designated “Quiet Lounge for Professional Drivers” by the sign outside the door), comfortable, large, and quiet. There were hundreds of drivers at this place (it's very big), but there was no one else in there. Perfect! I spent some good time in there on my laptop, reading, and just relaxing outside of the truck.

I was on the road by 2:30 yesterday morning and delivered the load an hour before I told them I'd be there. I was unloaded in less than 30 minutes, and then drove over to Blawnox, Pennsylvania, just north of Pittsburgh, to pick up the load I have now that is going to Macclenny, Florida, just west of Jacksonville. After the harrowing from the last load, this load was a welcome one. Plenty of time and I'm going down south again.

I don't mind going from north to south and back again (the bad winter weather is pretty much gone, and I love the still-cool temperatures up north), but I already miss Texas and the west. It's been a while since I've had a nice load out west. It will come eventually. I just have to be patient.

At this moment, I'm shut down at a Flying J truck stop in Columbia, South Carolina. I have about 320 miles or so to get to Macclenny tomorrow. I drove through some beautiful mountains in West Virginia (I have not seen a place in WV that is not beautiful) today, through mostly sunny skies and nice running. A great day for driving and being on the road, home.

Terry. I have not spoken to Terry in about a week (we don't talk everyday when he's not on the road). He comes back on the road today, so I am looking forward to rejoining our regular conversation. I'll let you know how he has been doing when I do.

Reading, Listening and Watching. I regularly update what I've been up to besides driving in this life I live on the road. If it doesn't interest you, you can always move on to something else.

Books. I think last time I mentioned what I was reading, I was reading the excellent Annie Dillard book Pilgrim At Tinker Creek. Excellent book, and provoked lots of thought.

After finishing that, I read the Anne Tyler book Accidental Tourist . I like everything I've read by Anne Tyler, especially Breathing Lessons, which I read back in the 1980's. Tourist was enjoyable as well. It's about a man, Macon Leary, who just goes through life haphazardly, letting life happen to him, carry him along, and his journey to get to the point when he begins to take responsibility for his life, to make choices, and begin to live his life. The theme resonated with me on several deep levels, because I've been on such a journey myself the past few years.

I'm currently reading, primarily, the Journals of Lewis and Clark , a book I found at a used bookstore when I was in Rome (thanks Mama for taking me there). I love reading journals and memoirs, and this one is fascinating, detailing the journey of Lewis and Clark across a new nation from 1804-1806. I'm almost done with it.

I'm reading a few other things, a couple of books on philosophy, some things online, but those are more casual pursuits, taken at a more leisurely pace. I usually have one thing I focus on more than the others, and that's usually what I talk about here in this blog.

XM radio. Lately, I been listening to a channel on XM that features various audio books, and I'm loving it. I haven't really listened to it all that much before, because every time I tuned it, they were in the middle of something, and I hate picking things up in the middle. In my methodical way of thinking and arranging things in order, I don't like coming into the middle of anything, especially a movie or something.

But I came in one day when they were reading a history of Charlemagne, who ruled the Franks in the ninth century. And I was hooked. Currently, I'm listening to reading from such books as these: Age of Innocence, 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea, March of the 10,000, Great Expectations, The Poison Study, and a couple of others. It's very cool to be driving down the highway reading a book, learning, being entertained, and being challenged to think.

There is also an excellent program on the weekends on XM Public Radio that Terry first told me about, This American Life . An awesome show I'd recommend to any of you. Click the link for more info.

Video. Last time I talked about what I was watching, I was in the middle of Lonesome Dove. Since coming back on the road after being in Rome, I have been watching the following: some episodes of The Rifleman I had recorded over a year ago when I was still living in Rome, from a 24 hour marathon on the Encore Western cable network. Excellent show I've always loved, and I enjoyed watching several hours of shows. I had also recorded Vertigo about the same time, and finally got around to watching it again. I always enjoy Alfred Hitchcock movies. Currently, I'm watching the first season DVD's of The Big Valley , which has always been one of my favorite westerns. It is worth watching for the fact that lovely Linda Evans is in it, as well as the superlative Barbara Stanwyck, one of my favorite actresses.

The end. There is always more to write, but I will save more for later, on down the road a ways. Until then, be well, live your life, making choices and taking responsibility.

Until next time . . . keep the wheels rollin' . . .

Allan