Jason S. Harry

Things were going so good, for months on end, that I knew this day would have to arrive. Heck, on Monday, I was out in the lower half of western Pennsylvania on a ten-drop mission. It was young in the day, my third stop, when I heard a terrible hissing from the space in between truck and trailer. An airline had sprung a leak, less than a favorable situation for someone as mechanically backward such as me. For some reason, it didn’t faze me. I called our shop, who called road service while I went about devouring some of my Wife’s delicious homemade chili. If anything, I found my predicament nothing more than good timing. I was hungry, almost always am. I spend much of my waking hours somewhere in between starving and passing out from malnourishment.  I guess I probably should have been worried that I would never get the remaining seven stops off that day. I wasn’t, and I did anyway. Road service showed up in record time, and I was on my way in less than an hour and one half. ...

Look at her happy pose. Left wing reflecting her numbers, piece of a tree stuck to her nose. It’s as if she is begging me, or anyone else with a penchant for the mystique of air to go off and say hello to the sky. As I venture through life, I have learned that airplanes and people are similar in one respect: They both have the tendency to fly away out of our lives. The airplane in this picture is my Grandfathers last ride. When I look at the picture of this beautiful airplane, I feel like the luckiest of Grandsons, having had sat in the backseat while my Grandfather took me for a ride. I also had the good luck to sit in her front seat, holding her throttle in my left hand as I walked her through a few ups and downs, banking left and right as we went. As things are, when people depart from life, or to borrow from aviation speak “Depart the pattern,” the toys left behind need to be sold. Today, some new pilots from the left coast are arriving in town to retrieve Granddad’s airpla...

I’ve said it before: “I don’t like boats.” They rock, and they roll, and most dangerously of all, they hold the potential for something to go horribly wrong and create a watery demise. I have seen a lot of boats lately- most recently last weekend on my trip north to Bar Harbor, Maine. While I was there I took over seven hundred pictures of boats alone, and I’ll admit to liking half of those pictures. Some of that is attributed to not just the boats, but my interaction with boat people. They seem to like the mystery of the water and the great unknown that lies outside the harbor. After that weekend, I took the image pictured above while exploring Stratford Connecticut a few days later, disguising myself as being at work. All of this makes me worry. I’m a man of the road who, when he has the chance, likes to spend his weekends in the air. I barely have time to go upstairs and catch the whimsical things that being off the ground has to offer; what a travesty it would be to catc...

I’m a regional truck driver. This means that I am relegated to spend my time, and all of my miles in the Northeastern corridor of these United States. With this fact stated, I must add that I still like to feel connected with the rest of this planet we reside on. One of the ways I am able to do this is through the consumption of words and pictures. I regularly follow the news even though someone once told me this is bad. It’s a negative way to spend my free time, I was told, because reading the news puts one at risk to become depressed. I try and look at things as if I am not the only person in the world, or even the center of the Universe. I always roll the dice and keep on learning what is happening in other corners of the world, many of which I would like to visit but probably never will. A regular source of my news, especially when I am on the road, is the Drudge Report. I even have an application for my android phone that allows me to scan the headlines in a simple form. This week...