I Lied

Okay, all right, I lied. One week ago I wrote that the "itinerary" blog would be my last for thirty days. Since then I've come across two cartoons and had a wife/hubby conversation that required postings.
In addition, I began thinking about the miles I'll be putting on the Mazda in twenty-four days; closest approximation is 3,500. You mere mortals would think this many klicks on the odometer would be horrid. But, for this Iron Man it's nothing, not even close to scary. E.g. I drove from Kansas City to Boone, Iowa last Friday morning. It's two hundred forty miles. Ah! It was such a relaxing drive I took a nap from Cameron, Missouri to Des Moines.
Understand this: For twenty years I drove, in my Buick LeSabre's, 70,000 miles a year-----every year. I was a road warrior. Did you know I used to keep a diary of weird and/or things of interest I witnessed. It's the stuff P.T. Barnum would treasure.
On May 15 of '98 I was on Interstate 71, an hour north of Columbus, Ohio. Ahead of me was a red pickup and in the window I spied what appeared to be an Irish Setter jumping around; back and forth , up and down. This piqued my interest so I sped up. It wasn't a dog. It was a she and SHE was in the lap of a guy doin' the nasty while he drove. Talk about having moxie. Both of 'em gave me the thumbs up as I drove by.
Some guys have all the luck!
March 7, 1990, Grayling, Michigan. It was one of those typical early March days in northern Michigan; winds of 40 mph, drizzling rain coming down horizontally, when a battered vehicle passed me on the on ramp as we entered Interstate 75. I knew someone was going to blow an engine and sure enough, five miles up the highway, this piece of junk was on the side of the road. Standing outside was a kid; long scraggly hair, greasy jacket, a real winner. Being the person I am, aka stupid, I stopped. He said his girlfriend was going to have a baby and they were on their way to the hospital. "Could we hitch a ride", he asked? He jumped in the front seat and what must have been a fifteen year-old junior high type waddled to the car and squirmed her way into the back seat. Ever seen a salesman's car? Clothes everywhere. Some were hanging on the bar rack and others strewn on the back seat. A couple pair of nice shoes were on the floor, one was suede. I had a beautiful leather(real leather) case right next to the lass. Hey! What do you expect? It was my mobile office. This girl, child is a better word, was not in my car thirty lousy seconds when her water broke. Mind you, I had forgotten about this magical wonder of nature. My clothes, I knew, would never be the same. The papers would be immediate dumpster material. My leather bag--I was near tears. My suede shoes had never once hit the pavement. I was furious and vowed to do something, anything, considered memorable by historians.
After arriving at the hospital and retrieving a wheelchair, the Boy took the Child to the maternity ward. For some reason I sat and I sat. I smoked a pack of Marlboros at the same time. And I fumed. Fifteen agonizing minutes later I heard a knock on the window and looked to my right. It was the kid. Down came the window so I could hear Socrates speak. He spoke: "Mister, I'm so happy that you saved us. I'm going to name my baby after you. What's your name"?
"It's Igor", I answered. And like the Lone Ranger I drove off with a huge smile on my face; satisfaction along with joy in my heart and mind.
"Hi-Ho, MJ, away"!