Tuesday, March 4, 2008

Chapter 6: The Commute

Leonard drives like a bat out of hell in his work truck. He’s been driving it for so long it has almost become an extension of his physical body. Most people know their cars but Leonard spend eight hours a day getting in and out of his work truck. Highways, freeways, county roads, country roads, gravel roads, driveways, gated communities, logging roads, forest service roads, you name it Leonard’s driven it. He’s not a flashy driver though. He’s considerate but effective and efficient. After years of reading meters he’s realized that the reading is only part of the job, the other part transporting oneself two and from the reading area.

Leonard weaves in and out of traffic going north on I-5 calmly and smoothly popping sunflower seeds into his mouth, drinking a Mountain Dew at nine thirty in the morning and listening to his one guilty pleasure of life, Howard Stern. Leonard doesn’t listen to The Stern Show because of the dirty talk, naked women or fart and poop humor, he listens because its routine. He’s been listening to Howard, Robin, Arty, Fred and Gary for three years and now knows all the inside jokes between them. Most people think Howard Stern is disgusting but Leonard realizes that it really is just an on air reality show, disgusting but real. Howard and the cast reveal their quirky embarrassing lives on the air everyday and he knows more about them than any real person in his life. In a way they are his only friends.

He only has to deal with I-5 for a short time before exiting the Portland Avenue offramp in the armpit of the armpit valley that Tacoma, Washington sits in. Fife, Port of Tacoma and Puyallup are connected by a long vein running next to the muddy, coffee colored Puyallup River. The speed limit drops to fifty miles an hour and Leonard rotates his view back and forth between dilapidated Indian Reservation smoke shops, used car lots, and the rusting iron bridges that cross the toxic river perpendicular to Puyallup River Road. Fisherman line up in the morning to fish for salmon. Leonard always wonders who would fish for salmon that swim up through an industrial port into the grease stain of city that is Puyallup.

Soon Leonard is crossing the river on the last iron bridge past a roller rink and other strip mall establishment and gas stations. He is stuck behind a semi truck again, but the diesel exhaust doesn’t usually bother him as much as the slow speed. He accelerates past it on the two lane on ramp and pretty soon he’s shooting up the Puyallup river valley past Auburn towards the Buckley Hill. The September sun is rising through the cascade trees in the hills and a low fog sits across the fertile agricultural valley. He leans to the right and lets out a wet greasy fart and repositions himself in the seat.

“Pepperoni Pizza Pocket and blueberry Pop-Tarts uh humph!” He mutters to himself confirming the flatulent scent with his dinner menu the night before. He steps on the gas to put the automatic transmission into fourth gear and speeds up the hill out of the valley.

2 comments:

Bummush Olrun said...

Yeah thanks for the tip Mr. I, but I don't get ALL that negative and besides I've tried being nice but that never worked since the starting of school. SO what's the point of trying to be nice anymore.

the Albino Bowler said...

I have truly enjoyed following your blog. You really have a way with words, and I have to admit, your insights actually made me laugh out loud a couple times tonight. Nice pics as well. Now time for some vegemite...