The other day I was talking to the soldier as he navigated to some place in some state, I don’t even remember which. He gets stressed in large cities having spent his life in the woods and he’s got GPS but it’s fallible. It is downright flawed in places and you never know which places so if I am around I track him on a google map when he gets into odd places so he doesn’t end up in Bum Fuk. Sometimes we’re both calm but other times we get that frenetic energy going.
“Exit 142! Take it!”
“I’m takin’ it. I’m takin’t it.”
“Okay, go right. The road is called, Road. It’s a right. Did you make a right?”
“P, I am not on the ramp yet so no. NO, I have not made the right.”
“Well okay. How am I supposed to know? How would I know that?” Sitting in front of my computer I roll my eyes and keep my mouth shut.
“I have to drive this truck slow on these ramps. Especially this one. This is a jacked up ramp. They don’t make these things for trucks.”
No comment. I wanted to comment but I’m not stupid so no comment.
“Man, this ramp is a pain in the ass. Why do they make these like this?”
“Don’t know. I don’t know but are you making the right?”
“Okay, I made the right on Road. Now what?”
… he made delivery.
Two hours later he went back out to the highway and saw the dead guy. Another flatbed did something wrong came off the ramp and rolled down the hill.
“He’s dead, are you sure?”
“He’s dead. You can’t survive that. The pipes came off his truck and slammed through the cab of the truck. Actually there is no cab left. Looks like he rolled a few times. Couple times at least, he’s dead. Body can’t take that.”
“Oh. Oh, okay. Okay then. Well jeez. Jeez, I am not sure what to say.”
“Nothing to say, he made a mistake.”
One thing I find with a packed 8th house, I am constantly reminded to live because you are absolutely going to die.