Blast it, why didn't one of you try to persuade me not to do it? Lord, what a terrible idea! There I was, stuck at midnight on a deserted dirt road in the middle of the Saskatchewan forest! No lights, nothing but trees, snow, snow, trees, owls and elk, moose and muskrat, crows and caribou. What a bust! I abandoned my rig (when I unlocked the trailer door to see what I was hauling, it turned out to be fourteen confused, illegal, Bolivian immigrants, who quickly scattered in fright). I phoned the police, and I was rescued by helicopter. All I learned from my "adventurous spirit" was to use "bloody" frequently as an adjective, and to end every other sentence with "eh?" I don't know what happened to the Bolivians. I guess they're in the forest now, thinking they made it to the cold, northern edge of Mexico or New Mexico.
Nonetheless, I'm holding each one of you readers personally responsible for letting an old gargoyle wander off as a cross-country big-rig truck driver. I'm bloody tired now; it'll be awhile before I'm able to produce another blog entry, eh?