You'll be surprised from where I'm writing this blog entry. But first some background: It began just three weeks ago when I went to the store for milk. I like my two-percent-fat milk to be at least two weeks from expiration, but all the store had was milk with a three-day expiration date. That simply will not do.
"Bad weather," said the store manager, "it slows down the truck drivers from reaching us early enough with their produce, milk, etc."
"That does it," I said. "I'm gonna do something about this. I'm gonna do something I always wanted to do: become a professional, long-distance truck driver. So off to truck-driving school I went, the one I chose from a flyer, the one with odd name of Yulehitsomethin, named, I assume, after its Asian-Indian owner. Anyway, I passed the course test after only one week of training.
I was ready to leave my old beets farm here in Delaware, and strike out in my rented rig. The boss told me to drive my load west to Michigan. But by the time I reached the motor state, I felt like Bob Seger, who sings in his song, "When I reached Mackinaw, I could've gone east, I could've gone west---it was all up to me to decide." I just couldn't stop. So close to Canada. I burst into a couple of verses of "O Canada," floored my rig, and kept going straight west, heading for . . . Saskatchewan! I've always wanted to see Sasktachewan. Don't ask me why. Funny name or something.
So here I am in the frozen prairies of Sasktachewan, Western Canada. Lonely as hell---unless you count the animals I've met, well, hit along the way. The score is now Gargoyle 13, Moose 4, Elk 2, Buffalo 1. And this godless place is from whence I'm writing this. Maybe more adventures await me. Stay tuned, eh?