Yesterday I delivered an over sized load, an airfield fire truck, to the port in Baltimore. It was on it’s way to Libya. I hate that port and, true to it’s nature, the delivery took me all damn day. Such is delivering to that damn port.

I was hoping to make it to my oldest nephew’s house for Thanksgiving. He lives in Ohio. Things just didn’t work out and instead I am spending the time in PA instead. Such is trucking.

I called my brother, next youngest to me (I’m the oldest) and let him know I wasn’t going to make it. He didn’t sound surprised. He knows how trucking is. And he knows how I am too. They don’t count on me to be there. In a way that’s a good thing, but in a way it’s sad too. I guess I’ve always been that way. I show up when I show up but you just can’t plan around it. While I have always been Mr. Reliable when it comes to work related stuff, in my personal life I have never been reliable at all. I honestly don’t know why that is, I just know it’s always been that way. I’ve lost more than one intimate relationship because of that fact. Work has always come first.

I really would have enjoyed being there even if I hate my brother’s wife’s stuffing.

I’ll spend Thanksgiving here at the truck stop. I’ll eat whatever they have to offer as a Thanksgiving meal. I’ll go over to the little bar that I’ve been visiting for 25 years or so and enjoy a few pipes of tobacco with a few cold beers, and I’ll pretend that’s all what “normal” people do.

I wonder if I have ever been “normal”. Somehow I doubt it.

Fog has settled in here now, in Carlisle, PA. I can barely see the traffic on the road from my parking spot in the truck stop. It’s just some shadows and 12 volt lights passing by now. I spent some time in the bar having a few adult beverages and a very good BBQ sandwich before returning to my truck to call my brother and tell him I won’t be there for turkey dinner tomorrow. As I mentioned, he wasn’t surprised. He did sound disappointed though.

I can say that my dispatcher gave me the ok to drive down to OH to be with my family for the holiday despite not having a load. That was very kind of them to offer me that option. I just had to say no though. It’s almost 400 miles from here and that’s a lot of fuel to burn to just have dinner. I just couldn’t do that with a clear conscience. In better economic times I wouldn’t have hesitated, but the way things are now I just wouldn’t have felt good about spending that much of the company’s money doing it.

I just hope the truck stop turkey is edible tomorrow. For now I am going to fill a pipe with good English tobacco, enjoy a good smoke, and pretend I am actually in some civilized situation (perhaps with a nice cup of tea) instead of sitting in a damn truck in the fog in the middle of PA.

I visited the bar tonight. This afternoon actually. I drank a few beers and smoked a few pipefulls of tobacco. There is something about smoking a pipe. People seem to respect a pipe smoker. They strike up conversations with you, talk about their fathers or grandfathers who smoked a pipe, and generally regard you as someone who is somehow on a different level as themselves. I’m not sure how that works exactly but have noticed it for several years.

I did have one guy this evening, a short while before I left the bar, who was trying to make fun of my pipe smoking. Sadly for him he lacked the intelligence to effectively make sport (which I would have truly enjoyed) and I was able to best his comments at every turn. He was just not up to the task and after several return jibes on my part that left him severely embarrassed he took the easy road and said he was just kidding around and didn’t mean any harm.

A number of our fellow truckers were looking at him at that point and the score was pretty obvious. He was verbally beaten down and simply shut up. Probably the smartest thing he had done all night. Besides, I suspect that he mistook my latter comments to him as physical threats (which they weren’t at all) and as I am somewhat larger and in better shape than himself, he may have simply decided to shut up in the interest of self preservation. At least that is the feeling I got from him.

I’ve given up the whole physical altercation thing some time ago as it just isn’t a civilized way of handling things but some people still seem to expect such things from me, even people I’ve never met before. As I like to think of myself as a friendly, nice person I have no idea why that is. I haven’t hit anyone in a long time now. I am not sure how long it’s been but I am thinking it’s been at least a year. Besides, how would someone I’ve never seen before know that I have or have not settled things with my fists in the past? It’s not like I go around talking about such things, or even hint about them.

Perhaps I just look like the type. I hate to think so, but in all honesty have to consider that it could be true. I would much prefer people to see me as the friendly Father Knows Best type than the dangerous Would Mug You In A Dark Alley type. Sadly, I think many people see me as the latter even though nothing could be further from the truth.

A rough life shows on a person, and people can see that the wrong way I suppose. I can’t change the life I have been handed any more than a dog can change it’s tail. Just because life has left it’s marks on me doesn’t mean I am a rough or crude person. Nor do I want to be. Perhaps I may have been in my younger days. Yes, I am sure that I was in some ways. I learned early on that intelligence is an asset in a fight, but at some point I outgrew the desire to fight at all. Or at least I outgrew the desire to fight without a legitimate reason to do so.

I have my scars, my blemishes, and my overall look of gruffness I suppose, but they simply don’t display who I really am. Yes, I suppose in all honestly I may well look a bit rough and possibly like the guy who may rob you in an alley despite my attention to my appearance and trying to dress  like a gentleman. That doesn’t mean I am that person at all.

I am a gentleman. Of that I am certain. I make a point of it in everything I do on a daily basis. No person I interact with can honestly claim that I have behaved in any manner other than that of a gentleman. I know this for a certainty. Perhaps that is why the fellow this evening tried to get a rise out of me. It may have bothered him or made him feel inadequate that I do comport myself as a gentleman and he wanted to drag me down to his level. I don’t know, but perhaps that is true. I only know for certain that he failed to do so. I left there with my dignity intact.

Perhaps it’s a sign of getting old but somehow the word dignity has become more important to me than it was in the past. Maybe that is what being a gentleman is really all about, comporting oneself with dignity as well as respect for others. I just know that these days I try to maintain a measure of dignity at all times.

I’m still trying to find a way to scratch my ass in a dignified fashion. I’ll admit that one still eludes me.