Drivers, geeks, beans and life after death

 Wayne was the third of three on the first trip out today. We took a guy to 555 Airport Way, another guy to 25th and Tripoli and Wayne sat behind me as we went home to 94th and Cleveland.

He drives for Ewald Automotive for the last three years: dealer trades. That is to say he moves cars from lot to lot. It’s mostly intra-corporate around the greater metro area but sometimes he drives to upstate and out-of-state dealers. He’s tried shuttling people a couple times. Too much pressure to get people to wherever they’re going - on time. When you’re alone in a car you might be able to take a bathroom break or stop for lunch.

I’ve met plenty of drivers over time. It’s the people for me. Still, it sure was nice to talk to someone about driving and dealers though - a regular busman’s holiday. Hmmm, I have yet to meet a bus driver now that I think of it.

I came back to the lot, greeted Kevin and loaded him off to his condo on College. He’s between gigs at the moment.

“Gigs?” I asked. “Sounds like musician code.”
“Yeah. No. Contract IT consultant. I just finished up a project with Johnson Controls and I’m off till the 20th.”
He did not say what the next gig would be.
“Do you have a specialty?” I asked.
“I’m kind of a liaison between the, uh, geeks ... and ...”
“Bean counters?” I offered?
“Yeah, that’s it. I speak geek to bean counters.”

We decided that it was a very handy talent. He’s going to catch up on some reading and possibly get a little travel in before the new job starts.

“Down time.” I said. “Sounds lovely. Merry Christmas.”

I headed toward Oak Creek to pick up Miriam and bring her back for her car. I dialed her 787 area code to tell her I was nearly there and the first thing I asked was where that area code was from.

“Everyone asks,” she said. “Puerto Rico. I moved down there to be with my parents. My father had bone cancer and I thought I was going to stay and help my mother. The last six months were very painful for him. The doctor said he probably had it for a couple years before he was diagnosed. He was Stage 4 when they found it. He wouldn’t go to the doctor.”

“Men,” I said, “What can you do with them?” She laughed.

After her father passed her mother sent her home to be closer to her own kids and grand kids.

“Grandmother?” I asked. “ I can hardly believe. Your skin cream is really working for you.” She laughed again.

She was off shopping this day after Christmas and was quite happy about that. She obviously loves it. She told me a bit about the deals she made and I thought it’d be great to have her along; she knows the tricks.

...

Then I met John and his wife. They drove sixteen hours straight across Nebraska from Woodland Park, CO to his boyhood home in Cudahy. His mother died the Friday before Christmas. The wake was the day after. His dad and sister want him to stay the week until the ashes are ready. He can’t. He has to get back to work. It was understandably somber.

He grew up around here. He worked at the power plant until he didn’t anymore. Then he worked at the Heating Unit at UWM. That was crazy. Finally a job opened in Colorado. His wife had spent her teens and twenties there. Loves it and was glad to be going back.

He was happy to talk about the differences in winters between here and his new home in Colorado. They are so much more pleasant there. Maybe he can talk his father in to coming out for a month.

“Sounds nice.” I said. “I hope he takes you up on the offer. It sure beats shuffling around home by yourself.”

Near as I can tell, it is only the living that talk about life after death. On we go. One day at a time.