A mile or so from my house, between the freeway and the road, is a small pull off. The graveled area in the evergreen bushes is used by a lot of people. The location is well situated for farmers to sell fruit and vegetables, and others to vend various products. Motor homes, pickups with campers, and trucks occasionally use it as well as it’s a convenient place to get off the road and out of the way.

This pull off has been there over forty years that I know of —until last week. The city brought in a load of small boulders and blocked off the area. Why? Well, obviously, they can’t have anybody making money, not without paying for a business license and other associated costs or, the city not collecting their fee for a sign permit. Seriously, in my town they’re ridiculously obstinate about sign permits. The police will come and take your yard sale signs, because the city didn’t get their cut. And those ingenious folks who use their parked car to advertise a yard sale can receive a ticket. Makes having a yard sale rather unprofitable.

It’s not just my city either. Apparently, there’s some unwritten law that restricts making money—unless you do it by the approved method of working a conventional job. And, in many cases, you can only have one of those—no moonlighting. Anytime anyone comes up with a legal method of augmenting their income, the city, county, state, or other government entity finds a way to intervene. Just look at how children’s lemonade stands are treated these days.

They’ll tax, regulate, pass laws, or even file a lawsuit to stifle, deter, and discourage private entrepreneurship. Sometimes they just put rocks in the road. How rude!

But, there’s a silver lining behind every cloud, right? In this case, blocking access to the pull off means the cops can’t back in there and hide anymore! Hmm... maybe they should block off a few more places!

Friday night, and there’s a lot of traffic on the road. It’s like a holiday weekend but as far as I know, there are no major holidays this late in September. I’d like to ask to ask them where they’re going but then I don’t really want to know.

There is also an inordinate amount of those vehicles equipped with the pretty red and blue flashing lights. The drivers of those seem awfully proud of their lights. Every chance they get; they’re showing them off. For the most part, people are accommodating, pulling over to the side of the road just to marvel. Except the guy who just passed me. Apparently, he wasn’t quite as impressed with the lights as everyone else. Or, maybe he’s just in a hurry, I don’t know. Either way, he made it quite evident; he had no intention of stopping.

But the man in the car with the pretty lights was rather insistent; he wasn’t taking “no” for an answer. He speeded up, staying right with the other driver, trying to persuade him to stop and have a look.

They both disappeared around the corner and shortly after, I discovered that all the guys driving the cars with the red and blue lights must belong to the same club, because four or five more showed up out of the blue; like they’d got a call from the first one or something.

I guess the old saying, “There’s strength in numbers,” must be true because only a few miles further, the guy who hadn’t wanted to make time to stop was off on the side of the road.

They all seemed to be having a good time as I drove by; everyone was out of their cars, talking it up. It didn’t appear there were any hard feelings either; pretty sure I saw a 12-Pack of Budweiser setting on the car. But the party must not have lasted too long ‘cause they were all gone when I came back by a half an hour later.

The guy’s car was still there though. I figure he caught a ride with one of the others. Maybe, they decided to take the party into town. They probably had a lot of other stuff they wanted to show him.

Meanwhile, I’m still driving down the road. Still a lot of traffic too.

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SPOTLIGHT Author

Michelle Abbott
Just Stay

Sometimes, people don’t make a lot of sense. Did I ever tell about how I drove almost 2000 miles because of a piece of lettuce? A piece of lettuce about the size of a postage stamp, no less! It’s true. Here’s the story.

I picked up a load of recycled cardboard. Twenty-four big bales. I’m sure you’ve seen them, either being hauled on a flatbed or maybe at a grocery store, waiting to be picked up. Trucks take them back to the paper mill to be recycled into new cardboard. There are different classifications and grades of cardboard, each with their own set of rules for the minimum standard as to their condition.

I drove from Detroit, over to Chicago, and then up through Wisconsin, and finally just across the state line back into Michigan. I was supposed to deliver the load to a place in Memominee, Michigan, a 650-mile trip.

Everything went fine until I was backed into the dock expecting to get my trailer unloaded. I waited. Then, waited some more. Finally, a guy came up, knocking on the door of the truck. I knew there was a problem when I saw the white hardhat. A supervisor usually doesn’t step foot outside the safe confines of his office or the little area of which he is in charge.

But apparently, at this particular location, it required a supervisor to refuse a load. He escorted me inside to the loading dock to show me why. I was thinking there was something drastically wrong with the load, you know, like a dead body or something. But no, there was no body. In fact, I couldn’t see anything wrong at all. Not until the guy in the white hat pointed it out—a single piece of lettuce. That’s all. Just a about a one-inch square piece of lettuce. But that was enough. My load wasn’t up to their standard for cleanliness. He wrote “Contaminated” and “Refused” across my bill of lading. Evidently, lettuce is a highly toxic substance! Who knew?

I called my dispatcher and was told to take it back. So, I headed for Detroit. Another 650 miles.

The trip had covered two days. I’d driven 1300 hundred miles and the load was right back where it had started. I dropped the trailer and left. Then, the very next day, I was sent to pick up the same load again—minus the offending piece of lettuce. Another 650 miles. This time the load was accepted.

All in all, I’d covered 1950 miles in three days, for one measly load. Not that I minded a lot. I still got paid for all the miles plus, they paid me to pick it up and to unload. And then, to pick up and unload it again. And, then again. Something tells me that load wasn’t too profitable for someone.

The thing is, I could have just removed the lettuce myself. A quick flick of my wrist and Voilà, problem solved. I even offered. But no, that was simply not allowed, I was told. The supervisor in the white hat said we had to follow the “rules.” Yeah. Sometimes people don’t make a lot of sense.

SPOTLIGHT Author

Michelle Abbott
Just Stay

They say things you’re taught in school, even grade school, will stay with you for life. That could be good or bad, depending on what you were taught. For me, I guess it was both.

Saw a falling star tonight, or a shooting star, if you prefer. That’s not really too unusual. I drive in the desert, at night, so it’s more out of the ordinary when I do not see a falling star. What made this sighting noteworthy is, it didn’t fizzle out in mid-air like many of them do. I watched it all the way to the horizon and then saw a sudden glow like there was an explosion on impact with the ground. Probably just a little fire and not an actual explosion but from my vantage point it looked massive.

The incident reminded me of a teacher from school who told us falling stars, or any other objects falling from space, NEVER make it to the Earth. The objects burn up in the atmosphere, she said. And those craters we see, they’re a naturally occurring phenomenon.

I may have only been in grade school, but I had several problems with her theory. A theory that she stated as fact. First, that a teacher, supposedly a “science” teacher didn’t know that a falling star is actually a meteor was a little odd. Equally perplexing was that she didn’t know a meteor becomes known as a meteorite when it impacts the Earth. That should be a clue that some things falling from space DO make it to the ground. And as for the craters, yes they are naturally occurring—because it’s quite natural for a crater to form when a meteor strikes the ground!

Sometimes, a guy should just stay quiet. I know this; I just never could seem to do it. I’ve always felt compelled to point it out when someone is “teaching” something that obviously they know little about. So, of course, I spoke up. I figured if a grade school kid knew about meteors and meteorites, the teacher probably should. I considered it my duty to enlighten her!

As I’m sure you have guessed, it didn’t go well. My help was not exactly appreciated. At the time, I wasn’t quite so cynical or stubborn as I am these days, so I didn’t argue the point any further.

Looking back now, I suppose the saying is true; things you’re taught in school do last a lifetime. All these years later, I think of this teacher nearly every time I see a falling star. But as it turns out, our little disagreement was not a complete waste of time. This and other like conflicts, made me learn to question what I was being taught and not just blindly accept everything—a practice I followed for the rest of my schooling and even to this day. I guess you could say when my teacher crashed and burned with her divergent theory, it had a lasting impact on me. 

SPOTLIGHT Author
Traci Sanders
When Darkness Breaks