Lovely day, across Tennessee and Kentucky. Mountains and hills, bare trees but dogwoods in full flower. Then plains with some kind of purple-flowered tree, lining the road. Then Indiana, hills becoming plains and the ever-growing windmill forest.
Now I'm stopped, an hour from Chicago and over six hundred miles from where I started. I'll be up before four in the morning if I'm to make my delivery on time (the new and improved “on time,” that is—I just found out what it is).
I'm wiped. But rational.
So. I'm waiting for a shower. When they have one I'll take it and then fall down.
Meanwhile, here's a little something I saw on the back of a passing truck. Maybe a company motto.
(Rough quote)
A professional driver is one who stays out of trouble, and helps the other driver do the same.
Made me sit up and watch my driving for a good hour. Maybe more.
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