Reflecting on the Future (It’s all he wrote – or is it?)
Memorial day was just another Monday behind the wheel for me. I did not have to leave home till 1 in the afternoon so I was able to enjoy a little extra time at home. I headed down to Chester Pa, to pick up a load that delivered at a Wal-Mart distribution center in Marcy, Ny on Tuesday. This is a really nice trip to run, you just hop on the Northeast Turnpike, all the way to RT81 all the way up into New York. I called it a day at around 8pm in Preble Ny. There is a brand new rest area that just opened in the last year. Other states should take notice of how this place is set up and hurry up and build more. The best thing about it is that there is plenty of big truck parking. In the picture above you can see the building, on the other side there is a whole other parking lot for trucks, so no matter what time you get there, you can always count on a spot being available. Parking can be a real big pain in the butt. If you are not parked in a rest area by like 6 or 7 can you run out of luck real quick. I am on the road usually very early in the morning and if you pass one of theses rest areas you will see trucks parked along the highway before the rest area, on the ramp to it and from it, and on the side of the highway after it. So anyway, an overall enjoyable easy day. – Jason Harry 5.30.05
And with that little bit of pure literary genius, Myroadadventures.com was born almost five years ago. I look at this entry today and ask myself who wrote that crud, and also, after all this practice, why am I still not the literary genius I always hoped to be? The only thing I like about what is written above is how short it is- I can’t write anything that short anymore no matter how hard I try. Then again, maybe I don’t want to.
I sure could have benefited from my Mothers editing services back then, hopefully she would have told me “don’t bother posting this, you can do better.” I’ve learned a lot on my own since I made a mad dash from my house when I thought the time was right, way back in my younger years of rebellion; but the learning was always easier when she was there to help point out the bigger lessons (and even the little ones.)
A couple of months ago I even thought I would ‘get with the times’ and opened up a Facebook fan page, just for kicks and giggles. I’m full of wonder as to why so many people I do not know personally signed on as a fan, but I’m thankful for them, and also for all my friends who signed on too. Every time I hit the road I feel like I have a small audience standing on my shoulders, waiting, along with myself, to see what is going to happen next. I also appreciate all the feedback I got, I like to think it helped fine-tune my writing and hopefully you saw it go from the nonsense in the first paragraph to something with slightly more substance. It’s because of my appreciation for you that I felt a need to explain why this is when we say our goodbye. I can’t just walk away, in good conscience, and leave the people who regularly looked forward to reading what I had to say asking “where did he go, when is he coming back?”
Lately, I have been giving some thought (I know, cue the rolling eye-balls!) and doing some reflecting upon my life, more specifically, my life as a trucker. When I look at back at the previous five years, it is done with a smile on my face and fond memories in my mind.
One of my most favorite parts of trucking is that I can throw on a comfortable pair of blue jeans and go off to work, compared to my previous life where a tie was often required. I was so happy that I never had to wear a tie that I vowed to never wear one again; I went so far as to pack up all my ties in a shoebox, took a walk deep into the woods and set them on fire in a ceremonial “no more cloth around thee neck” celebration.
I did keep one tie, I had no choice really; out of five kids, I happen to have only one little girl, Miss Emma Rose. I’m fairly certain that it’s her destiny to one day become a beautiful woman who will venture out into the world on her own- if that destiny also includes her choosing to marry a man she finds worthy, well, that’s where the tie I kept aside comes into play. On her wedding day, I plan to carry it along in my pocket; I’ll pull the groom aside, show him the tie and offer him a gentle reminder that if that he ever even once wrongs my little girl, (in any way, shape or form) this tie that I hold will be the instrument of his demise.
By the way, all you little boys of the world, I herby put you on notice: if you one day find yourself attracted to her ever emerging beauty and equally beautiful mind, I have some handy words of caution to offer up: Not only will you need to get past me, but also four of her brothers standing guard with their arms crossed, a side order of squinty eyes filled with skepticism, just for fun. Good luck with that.
I could write volumes on how much I love that little girl of mine (as well as my upcoming Knights-in-training), however I return my thoughts back to my recent reflections, which for the most part has consisted entirely of my relationship with the world of trucking. Truth be told, I’m still completely in love with the road experience but I’ve begun to wonder how long our affair not only will last, but also should last. Those questions arise from the even larger ‘what if’ questions that we all ask ourselves. Like most people, I have a huge stack of ‘what if’’ questions residing within the confines of my mind.
Here’s a sampling of some of my stronger ‘what if’ questions:
About two weeks ago, I was enjoying the final moments of a deep sleep next to my Wife, my entire soul patiently awaiting the alarm clock to start it’s annoying song-and-dance, this time at the ugly hour of five in the morning. About ten minutes before it had that chance, my two-year-old son Sam made the long climb (for his little guy body) up into our bed and slid between my Wife and I, with the results of a woken up Daddy. I glanced at the clock and figured “the heck with it, may as well get up and go”. I seized the opportunity of his recent arrival to say a rare early morning goodbye; I leaned close to his little ears and whispered “bye-bye little guy, I gotta go to work.” All I heard, in the early morning silence, was the sweetest little sleepy guy voice the world ever did hear.
“No, Don’t go Daddy.”
He says this a lot lately and it’s made me sad when he does, especially when I really have to get going. Still, even though I wasn’t fully awake, I had to engage him in a conversation that is a duplicate of the talk we have every time I must head to work, big truck key burning a hole in my pocket.
“Why?”
“Because people need me to bring them their tables, chairs, and beds.”
“Why?”
“So they can have a place to sit and relax and go to sleep when they are tired.”
“Why?”
At that point, the “whys” could go on forever and if he’s fully awake, it often ends in tears, sometimes for both of us. I’ve found the worst time to leave is Sunday afternoons. I’ve watched his little face hundreds of times as he stares out the window; watching me as I push my gearshift into reverse and begin my exit not only from home, but from his life. It can be downright heartbreaking.
What if I didn’t have to leave home for days at a time, every time I need to earn some change for my family? What if I didn’t find the safest time to leave is while he is napping, only to hear on the phone later about how he woke up screaming “Daddy! I want Daddy!” What if I could find a way to not become such a part-time absentee Father before that face in the window goes from to infant to toddler, teenager to not there at all?
What if I never developed my fear of interrupting my planner’s flow of dispersing furniture across the land and wasn’t so afraid to ask for a day there or an hour here? What if I never had to exit left at another of my children’s birthday parties or what if I could have been there in the first place? These are some of my biggest ‘what if’ questions and they apply to all my kids in their own ways. What if my time is running out with each day that passes by?
My little Sam may only be two years old, but he has taught me a great lesson: keep asking why ‘til you find the answer you’re looking for.
I’ve also caught myself daydreaming about airplanes, actually, one in particular: A Cessna L-19 Birddog. I’m not sure why, it may be it’s good looks or it’s place in history, either way I have always thought it a goal of mine to one day be the proud owner of such an awesome bird. Lately I have become convinced that the one I am destined to own is sitting somewhere on the ground (hopefully, well protected in a heated hangar) her nose pointed ever-so-slightly towards the sky; waiting for someone to come along and show her more love, polish her up, and take her upstairs for some exercise.
She has her very own set of ‘what if’ questions. What if I had the chance to find my elusive aerial bride of the skies? What would it feel like to hold her hand by way of placing my right hand on stick, left hand on throttle, feet gently resting on rudder pedals? What would it feel like to offer up a cautious shout of “clear prop” and off we go, in search of puffy white clouds to dance around with? What if I could pack my little guy into the back seat, like my Daddy used to do with me, and fly off to all the little airports I see now only through the windshield of a big truck? What if I just keep writing down trip numbers, mating with trailers and keep going down the road followed up with writing about it here? Will I ever have the financial means to not only own such an airplane, but also to maintain such a treasure?
Not to worry, dearest Maine, I haven’t forgotten about such a beautiful state such that you are. I have no one to blame for my love of Maine, other than my dispatch office, for they sent me into her beautiful backcountry many times in different seasons, and I fell in love. What if I could one day own a home there, complete with the L-19 parked in the safety of a heated hangar in the backyard, kids playing in the rolling of fields of beauty? I’ve been giving some thought to Maine over the last few weeks, next thing I knew, I was dispatched on a rare visit there. In the real world, someone looked upon a computer screen and matched a furniture load with a driver; in my world, the Universe took over and nudged me that far north as a gentle reminder not to let a dream slip away. What if I hadn’t noticed the connection?
I did this intentionally, as I want to give her beautiful eyes, and her always busy mind a break; that way she’ll hopefully be ready to help me with some more serious work that lies ahead of us. It’s not quite Mother’s Day yet, but when I look back upon my thirty seven years; I think of all the advice, help and wisdom that she has shared with me- it’s always Mothers Day in my mind when I think of her and all she has done for me.
One of the greatest lessons she ever taught me was that if you want something, you must first ask for it. I posed this equation to myself recently when I looked into the mirror and said “Jason, are you ready to finally get serious and go after all of your dreams?” I wasn’t surprised at all to hear myself reply, with firmness in my voice, “yes, absolutely.”
Thanks for being my friend, my fan, or even just an anonymous reader who has stopped by from time to time to see what I’ve been up to. It’s my greatest hope that you’ll revisit your dreams and one day ask your best idea for it’s hand in marriage. I wish you both nothing but success, and all the happiness in the entire world, from the very bottom of my heart.
I let out one last sigh when I look back again at that first paragraph from five short years ago. Sometimes I wish I could go back to being that writer. It would have saved us both lots of time if I could have said what I needed to say, in such a simple manner. It would have been direct and to the point; perhaps I could have just said: “My eyes are not getting any younger but the shine of wonder from within them, for all I see, has never burned brighter. I’ve been given a prize and want to see what I can do with it. I’m off on a new adventure and don’t possess enough creativity, time and gumption to keep on writing here. So long.”
On second thought, as the writer I am today, I could have summed up this last chapter using only one word. It’s one of my favorite words within the English language, the same one I say to myself when I insert the key into the ignition of my truck, turn it forward and bring IT'S engine to life:
“Showtime.”
And with that little bit of pure literary genius, Myroadadventures.com was born almost five years ago. I look at this entry today and ask myself who wrote that crud, and also, after all this practice, why am I still not the literary genius I always hoped to be? The only thing I like about what is written above is how short it is- I can’t write anything that short anymore no matter how hard I try. Then again, maybe I don’t want to.
I sure could have benefited from my Mothers editing services back then, hopefully she would have told me “don’t bother posting this, you can do better.” I’ve learned a lot on my own since I made a mad dash from my house when I thought the time was right, way back in my younger years of rebellion; but the learning was always easier when she was there to help point out the bigger lessons (and even the little ones.)
A couple of months ago I even thought I would ‘get with the times’ and opened up a Facebook fan page, just for kicks and giggles. I’m full of wonder as to why so many people I do not know personally signed on as a fan, but I’m thankful for them, and also for all my friends who signed on too. Every time I hit the road I feel like I have a small audience standing on my shoulders, waiting, along with myself, to see what is going to happen next. I also appreciate all the feedback I got, I like to think it helped fine-tune my writing and hopefully you saw it go from the nonsense in the first paragraph to something with slightly more substance. It’s because of my appreciation for you that I felt a need to explain why this is when we say our goodbye. I can’t just walk away, in good conscience, and leave the people who regularly looked forward to reading what I had to say asking “where did he go, when is he coming back?”
Lately, I have been giving some thought (I know, cue the rolling eye-balls!) and doing some reflecting upon my life, more specifically, my life as a trucker. When I look at back at the previous five years, it is done with a smile on my face and fond memories in my mind.
One of my most favorite parts of trucking is that I can throw on a comfortable pair of blue jeans and go off to work, compared to my previous life where a tie was often required. I was so happy that I never had to wear a tie that I vowed to never wear one again; I went so far as to pack up all my ties in a shoebox, took a walk deep into the woods and set them on fire in a ceremonial “no more cloth around thee neck” celebration.
I did keep one tie, I had no choice really; out of five kids, I happen to have only one little girl, Miss Emma Rose. I’m fairly certain that it’s her destiny to one day become a beautiful woman who will venture out into the world on her own- if that destiny also includes her choosing to marry a man she finds worthy, well, that’s where the tie I kept aside comes into play. On her wedding day, I plan to carry it along in my pocket; I’ll pull the groom aside, show him the tie and offer him a gentle reminder that if that he ever even once wrongs my little girl, (in any way, shape or form) this tie that I hold will be the instrument of his demise.
By the way, all you little boys of the world, I herby put you on notice: if you one day find yourself attracted to her ever emerging beauty and equally beautiful mind, I have some handy words of caution to offer up: Not only will you need to get past me, but also four of her brothers standing guard with their arms crossed, a side order of squinty eyes filled with skepticism, just for fun. Good luck with that.
I could write volumes on how much I love that little girl of mine (as well as my upcoming Knights-in-training), however I return my thoughts back to my recent reflections, which for the most part has consisted entirely of my relationship with the world of trucking. Truth be told, I’m still completely in love with the road experience but I’ve begun to wonder how long our affair not only will last, but also should last. Those questions arise from the even larger ‘what if’ questions that we all ask ourselves. Like most people, I have a huge stack of ‘what if’’ questions residing within the confines of my mind.
Here’s a sampling of some of my stronger ‘what if’ questions:
About two weeks ago, I was enjoying the final moments of a deep sleep next to my Wife, my entire soul patiently awaiting the alarm clock to start it’s annoying song-and-dance, this time at the ugly hour of five in the morning. About ten minutes before it had that chance, my two-year-old son Sam made the long climb (for his little guy body) up into our bed and slid between my Wife and I, with the results of a woken up Daddy. I glanced at the clock and figured “the heck with it, may as well get up and go”. I seized the opportunity of his recent arrival to say a rare early morning goodbye; I leaned close to his little ears and whispered “bye-bye little guy, I gotta go to work.” All I heard, in the early morning silence, was the sweetest little sleepy guy voice the world ever did hear.
“No, Don’t go Daddy.”
He says this a lot lately and it’s made me sad when he does, especially when I really have to get going. Still, even though I wasn’t fully awake, I had to engage him in a conversation that is a duplicate of the talk we have every time I must head to work, big truck key burning a hole in my pocket.
“Why?”
“Because people need me to bring them their tables, chairs, and beds.”
“Why?”
“So they can have a place to sit and relax and go to sleep when they are tired.”
“Why?”
At that point, the “whys” could go on forever and if he’s fully awake, it often ends in tears, sometimes for both of us. I’ve found the worst time to leave is Sunday afternoons. I’ve watched his little face hundreds of times as he stares out the window; watching me as I push my gearshift into reverse and begin my exit not only from home, but from his life. It can be downright heartbreaking.
What if I didn’t have to leave home for days at a time, every time I need to earn some change for my family? What if I didn’t find the safest time to leave is while he is napping, only to hear on the phone later about how he woke up screaming “Daddy! I want Daddy!” What if I could find a way to not become such a part-time absentee Father before that face in the window goes from to infant to toddler, teenager to not there at all?
What if I never developed my fear of interrupting my planner’s flow of dispersing furniture across the land and wasn’t so afraid to ask for a day there or an hour here? What if I never had to exit left at another of my children’s birthday parties or what if I could have been there in the first place? These are some of my biggest ‘what if’ questions and they apply to all my kids in their own ways. What if my time is running out with each day that passes by?
My little Sam may only be two years old, but he has taught me a great lesson: keep asking why ‘til you find the answer you’re looking for.
I’ve also caught myself daydreaming about airplanes, actually, one in particular: A Cessna L-19 Birddog. I’m not sure why, it may be it’s good looks or it’s place in history, either way I have always thought it a goal of mine to one day be the proud owner of such an awesome bird. Lately I have become convinced that the one I am destined to own is sitting somewhere on the ground (hopefully, well protected in a heated hangar) her nose pointed ever-so-slightly towards the sky; waiting for someone to come along and show her more love, polish her up, and take her upstairs for some exercise.
She has her very own set of ‘what if’ questions. What if I had the chance to find my elusive aerial bride of the skies? What would it feel like to hold her hand by way of placing my right hand on stick, left hand on throttle, feet gently resting on rudder pedals? What would it feel like to offer up a cautious shout of “clear prop” and off we go, in search of puffy white clouds to dance around with? What if I could pack my little guy into the back seat, like my Daddy used to do with me, and fly off to all the little airports I see now only through the windshield of a big truck? What if I just keep writing down trip numbers, mating with trailers and keep going down the road followed up with writing about it here? Will I ever have the financial means to not only own such an airplane, but also to maintain such a treasure?
Not to worry, dearest Maine, I haven’t forgotten about such a beautiful state such that you are. I have no one to blame for my love of Maine, other than my dispatch office, for they sent me into her beautiful backcountry many times in different seasons, and I fell in love. What if I could one day own a home there, complete with the L-19 parked in the safety of a heated hangar in the backyard, kids playing in the rolling of fields of beauty? I’ve been giving some thought to Maine over the last few weeks, next thing I knew, I was dispatched on a rare visit there. In the real world, someone looked upon a computer screen and matched a furniture load with a driver; in my world, the Universe took over and nudged me that far north as a gentle reminder not to let a dream slip away. What if I hadn’t noticed the connection?
This past week I was standing in the back-room receiving area of one of our customers when I saw a lonely computer desk in the corner, made of wood but relegated to being nothing more then a place for the receivers to store some junk, just enough empty space left to sign some paperwork. As I stood there and really looked at it, I saw something else: the desk was in a room of my farmhouse in Maine, bathed in sunlight with a sharp looking laptop waiting for me to do some writing. Next to it sat a tired looking laptop, under glass, awards and accolades keeping it company as they hung from the wall. What if what I saw could really become mine?
These are only a few of my more important ‘what if’ questions I have been asking myself, and they recently went from quiet, random thoughts-in-passing while driving down the highway to much louder questions-of-conviction, with answers that needed to found. Thanks to an experience that I recently had the pleasure to have participated in, I’m halfway there. I can only describe it as a completely magical, if not downright mystical type of event, of which I never have seen before. I’m under contract with whoever (or whatever) put that fantastic show on, to offer no more details on what exactly happened. I can say this: I walked away with a prize.
After it was over and I had time to reflect upon it for the next few days, I came to the conclusion that it was the greatest thing I have ever experienced outside of being blessed to be a Father and driving around in a nice looking truck. At one point, I heard an audible ‘click’ within my mind and a blueprint filled with detailed instructions was laid out before me, clearly readable from whichever way I looked at it. I say with full conviction in my voice that it could very well be a defining moment in my life and one I have been waiting for my entire life. Never have I been blessed with such clarity and with such vision as what to do with my ‘what if’ questions, as well as my future.
After that event, I’ve witnessed signs and reminders that I am on the correct path. My good friend Gi-Gi Roxx was checking out some pictures on Facebook; they were pictures I had captured of spring, in action. She asked me a question that to this day I’m not sure was meant to be taken seriously; I answered her immediately without thinking, but gave it some serious thought later. Her question (along with my real answer) is part of where I am right now. (Thanks Angela!)
In the course of the last week, I’ve seen an enormous amount of complete strangers wave at me for no reason at all, leaving me to ask myself (after waving back) “who do they think I am, I haven’t done anything with my life yet?” It freaks me out slightly, when complete strangers act as if they know me; like they already have read the great things I one day hope to write.
Just yesterday, I found myself at a stop sign, at the end of a highway exit ramp, waiting to make a left hand turn. “This is going to be a little while,” I thought as I watched the busy lunch hour traffic snake by; another moment of ‘clear on the right but not on the left,’ and visa versa. All of a sudden, it was clear on the right with a car approaching from the left, a long line of cars behind it, yelling loudly “no tractor-trailers shall ever pass between us.” The driver of that first car made my day. For no reason at all, he stopped completely and blinked his lights as if to say, “Go for it.” And so I did. And so I will.
I’m just like you; I have had different ideas spread across the canvas that is our life, some perhaps better than others. I’ve grown tired of simply dancing with all the ideas mingling about in my mind, I’m going to pick the best one and ask it to marry me. I’ll become fully committed to it, strap it into my passenger seat and go down the road with it. I’ll take walks in the park with it and make sweet love to it when I’m dreaming in my sleep. At the end of my life, if all goes well, I’ll look it squarely in the eye and thank it for staying with me for so long, one last time.
This must be the part where we say our goodbyes, at least for the time being, as it lies within my plans to see you again one day. Before we shake hands and wave bye, I must offer an apology to my Mother (and by default, anyone else reading this) for not sending her this final addition to the roadadventures.com part of my life. She is my editor that helps to me to buff out the rough edges and otherwise polish up what I have written recently, so I apologize to her, and to you, if you notice any errors within my last work here.
These are only a few of my more important ‘what if’ questions I have been asking myself, and they recently went from quiet, random thoughts-in-passing while driving down the highway to much louder questions-of-conviction, with answers that needed to found. Thanks to an experience that I recently had the pleasure to have participated in, I’m halfway there. I can only describe it as a completely magical, if not downright mystical type of event, of which I never have seen before. I’m under contract with whoever (or whatever) put that fantastic show on, to offer no more details on what exactly happened. I can say this: I walked away with a prize.
After it was over and I had time to reflect upon it for the next few days, I came to the conclusion that it was the greatest thing I have ever experienced outside of being blessed to be a Father and driving around in a nice looking truck. At one point, I heard an audible ‘click’ within my mind and a blueprint filled with detailed instructions was laid out before me, clearly readable from whichever way I looked at it. I say with full conviction in my voice that it could very well be a defining moment in my life and one I have been waiting for my entire life. Never have I been blessed with such clarity and with such vision as what to do with my ‘what if’ questions, as well as my future.
After that event, I’ve witnessed signs and reminders that I am on the correct path. My good friend Gi-Gi Roxx was checking out some pictures on Facebook; they were pictures I had captured of spring, in action. She asked me a question that to this day I’m not sure was meant to be taken seriously; I answered her immediately without thinking, but gave it some serious thought later. Her question (along with my real answer) is part of where I am right now. (Thanks Angela!)
In the course of the last week, I’ve seen an enormous amount of complete strangers wave at me for no reason at all, leaving me to ask myself (after waving back) “who do they think I am, I haven’t done anything with my life yet?” It freaks me out slightly, when complete strangers act as if they know me; like they already have read the great things I one day hope to write.
Just yesterday, I found myself at a stop sign, at the end of a highway exit ramp, waiting to make a left hand turn. “This is going to be a little while,” I thought as I watched the busy lunch hour traffic snake by; another moment of ‘clear on the right but not on the left,’ and visa versa. All of a sudden, it was clear on the right with a car approaching from the left, a long line of cars behind it, yelling loudly “no tractor-trailers shall ever pass between us.” The driver of that first car made my day. For no reason at all, he stopped completely and blinked his lights as if to say, “Go for it.” And so I did. And so I will.
I’m just like you; I have had different ideas spread across the canvas that is our life, some perhaps better than others. I’ve grown tired of simply dancing with all the ideas mingling about in my mind, I’m going to pick the best one and ask it to marry me. I’ll become fully committed to it, strap it into my passenger seat and go down the road with it. I’ll take walks in the park with it and make sweet love to it when I’m dreaming in my sleep. At the end of my life, if all goes well, I’ll look it squarely in the eye and thank it for staying with me for so long, one last time.
This must be the part where we say our goodbyes, at least for the time being, as it lies within my plans to see you again one day. Before we shake hands and wave bye, I must offer an apology to my Mother (and by default, anyone else reading this) for not sending her this final addition to the roadadventures.com part of my life. She is my editor that helps to me to buff out the rough edges and otherwise polish up what I have written recently, so I apologize to her, and to you, if you notice any errors within my last work here.
I did this intentionally, as I want to give her beautiful eyes, and her always busy mind a break; that way she’ll hopefully be ready to help me with some more serious work that lies ahead of us. It’s not quite Mother’s Day yet, but when I look back upon my thirty seven years; I think of all the advice, help and wisdom that she has shared with me- it’s always Mothers Day in my mind when I think of her and all she has done for me.
One of the greatest lessons she ever taught me was that if you want something, you must first ask for it. I posed this equation to myself recently when I looked into the mirror and said “Jason, are you ready to finally get serious and go after all of your dreams?” I wasn’t surprised at all to hear myself reply, with firmness in my voice, “yes, absolutely.”
Thanks for being my friend, my fan, or even just an anonymous reader who has stopped by from time to time to see what I’ve been up to. It’s my greatest hope that you’ll revisit your dreams and one day ask your best idea for it’s hand in marriage. I wish you both nothing but success, and all the happiness in the entire world, from the very bottom of my heart.
I let out one last sigh when I look back again at that first paragraph from five short years ago. Sometimes I wish I could go back to being that writer. It would have saved us both lots of time if I could have said what I needed to say, in such a simple manner. It would have been direct and to the point; perhaps I could have just said: “My eyes are not getting any younger but the shine of wonder from within them, for all I see, has never burned brighter. I’ve been given a prize and want to see what I can do with it. I’m off on a new adventure and don’t possess enough creativity, time and gumption to keep on writing here. So long.”
On second thought, as the writer I am today, I could have summed up this last chapter using only one word. It’s one of my favorite words within the English language, the same one I say to myself when I insert the key into the ignition of my truck, turn it forward and bring IT'S engine to life:
“Showtime.”
(Cue the Goosebumps.)
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