The Paper Route

               Traveling. I have always loved to travel. I think there is a bit of Gypsy blood in me somewhere back 10 generations ago or something. My ex-husband has often referred to me as a bloodsucking vampire to the kids so maybe I really am from Romania. My happiest times are on the road to somewhere I have never been. I love the adventure of it all, it is a good thing too, as nothing I ever do is simple. I even took a part-time job traveling all around the county (Piscataquis) and two others to boot; delivering newspapers to area businesses. I look forward to that day all week long. It is my one time of the day when no one can reach me. No one can demand things of me. I get to drive a brand new truck, that someone else has put the gas in, and all I have to do is drop off bundles of papers while I am yakking at people about the weather, politics, how little I know about sports. It seems simple enough, but as I said before,I never do anything simple.
               It begins on Tuesday night, when I have to get to bed early. Like at 8 or 9 in the evening, no later really, or I am tired the next morning when there are some long stretches between some of those stops. I am used to staying up until about 10 P.M. so a few hours earlier is rough to try and get to sleep when your body says, "Wait, I am not done yet!" Eventually my brain stomps on my eyelids and drifting off to the land of no bills I go. To be awakened at 3:30 A.M. by my alarm clock which sometimes forgets to go off. I do not really have a whole lot of luck with alarm clocks anyway. I have lived here in town for about 6 years now and this is my third one, the fourth one is going to be here soon, I can tell. Luckily I have a plan B in case my alarm does not go off. That would be Chad.
              Chad is the other driver of the truck. He goes up north to the plant up in Presque Isle and picks up the bundles, getting back into Dover around 4:15 in the morning. He is a nice fella and I enjoy our mornings together, such that they are. He is also a volunteer firefighter for our town, is a dishwasher at The Nor'easter Restaurant here in town, and is gay. Chad also has Cerebral Palsy, and I admire his dogged determination to live life no matter what is happening with him physically. I have never heard him complain about his disease, now that I think about it. He is the best front half a person can have on a nightly relay. He calls me every Wednesday morning at 4 to make sure I am awake. Most of the time I am. My body having become accustomed to waking up at 3:30 every Wed. morning now, does so automatically. I usually have the coffee set the night before so I only have to push a button to get it going in the morning as it does not require too many brain cells to do that. I grab a big travel mug, fill it, and run out the door. Since I live about a five minute walk away from the office, I stroll on over there to meet him and take over the truck, the papers, sign for my check, and take him home. I have learned to ask him if he has gotten everything out of the truck because once in awhile he leaves something in the truck and if I do not ask, I will have to turn around and go back, to bring what ever it is he left in the truck back to him.
              Once I have the truck and have dropped him with all his stuff off, I head out of town. About a mile down the road, I remember to turn on the radio. I happen to listen to inspirational music and being the mother of teenagers, who prefer what ever that crap is they listen to, this is the time when no one argues with me about what is playing. Chad usually has it set for me when I get in. It is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me. He likes late seventies disco music, go figure. I usually turn the volume to blow-out-what-is-left-of-my-eardrums level. People can hear me coming shortly before they see my white truck pull into their parking lots. Doesn't bother me and I think God might get a kick out of it as well.
              Many mornings on my walk down the street, and my drive out of town I have seen things that maybe need to be looked into a little bit. The other morning Dr. Chasse's back door was left open and I was worried that someone had broken into it. Neither Chad, nor I, could remember the police non-emergency number so we swung over there since it was on the way to Chad's house and knocked on the door. No one answered, so we called the sheriff office instead. Hope everything was all right. I found the window to the WDME office next door shattered one time, that was another call to the police, but they were on top of things that night and had all ready dealt with it.
              McDonald's is the last place of business that I pass on my way out of town as I am headed into Sangerville. I have one stop before I get there though and that is where I pull out all the bundles that were stacked in the back nice and neat, until I take a corner on two wheels and send them flying all over the back of the truck. We have a flashlight in the truck because most of the time, we cannot see the labels on the cover papers in the dark. So I grab my flashlight at the first stop that I make and find the next half a dozen stops worth of bundles, bringing them up front, I bag them up. I get to the last one I want and, after reading it, I learn I have just thrown out the wrong bundle to the store that I am at. No problem, I switch the bundles and thank my lucky stars that I have not driven off yet. there have been times that I did not catch it and had to turn around and go back ten fifteen and fifty miles even.
              Whilst I am singing along with the radio, and trying to miss the nightly obstacle course of potholes the size of small ponds and dead putrefying animals that litter the road as if a war had gone on (Why do they always seem to be skunks and porcupines?), I think about all the stuff going on in my life in the past week. Like how my teenage son at home is giving me more gray hairs than the other four combined. Worrying about my daughter and how tired she is, the knuckleheaded grandchildren and that zoo that they have over there Nine puppies on the first litter my daughter's dog threw out. Then Mama dog decides she doesn't want to feed them. So to bottle feeding we go. I thought having two babies with bottles was bad! Wow!  OH MY GOD!...There goes the turn off for Sangerville, darn it now I have to go around the long way. Man I need more coffee I think to myself. I will get some in Guilford in a bit. I have to really hurry now because my coffee cup is getting a bit empty.
              After hitting the next few drop offs, I pull into the A.E. Robinson's in Guilford. It is a pretty big gas station with a garage attached to it. It is actually Irving's now but everyone still calls it Robinson's. Norma works there on my delivery day and is pretty nice, she gives me coffee and the occasional donut. Her warm smile and bellowing, "HEY ! Good Morning! How are you?" never fails to put a smile on my face. I refill my coffee cup here. I like my own cup as it is bigger than the ones that the store has. The newsprint being real fresh has all ready blackened up my fingers, so I give my hands a good wash and head on over to Aunt DeeDee's Restaurant across the street, waving bye to Norma and the smattering of customers, mostly loggers and construction workers, that are there.
              Aunt DeeDee's is actually the mother of one of my son's friends that he chummed with while growing up. She is pretty nice. She has the most beautiful window boxes I have ever seen. They must have 10 different kinds of plants and flowers crammed in them. They are full of deep purple petunias, dark green ivy, tiny white alyssum, geraniums(red and white) marigolds, daisies, pansies, all of them in a blanket of color spilling over and flowing all over the ground. Looks rather like the flower fairies threw a party, had too much fun, and threw up all over the front of the building. She is a baker as well, and does a darn good job at it too. Yup I have tasted her donuts, they are really good. Don't know why she does not sell her donuts in Robinson's, hers are better. I bought a cake platter at a yard sale a few weeks ago for a couple dollars. It was beautiful polished stainless steel and heavy crystal cover. Very stately and elegant. I was baking up a storm since I bought the darn thing because it was too pretty to leave empty, and being that I want to lose 15 or twenty...ok seventy pounds, that platter was sabotaging all my best efforts. So I gave it to her in honor of her opening her shop. As well as a bundt pan that I never use. She gives me a slice of cake or a donut when I go in there now. Freaking cake platter still gets the last word in.
               I now strap in because I have a long stretch to get to Abbott from Guilford, and by now the radio is not playing songs, it is playing the morning devotional sermons. That is ok with me because I am not so perfect that I cannot use a little preaching. Ever notice how people on the radio are in complete control at oh dark thirty in the morning? I mean the only people up are delivery drivers and cops. Who is going to pull over and try make a call to a pre-taped radio show? Abbott has just a few stops the last one being The Abbott Bakery. They are the makers of the famous 'Skidder Tire Donut'. It is a yeast donut that is about the size of a skidder tire, duh, and for those that do not know how large a skidder tire is, I have seen them made into playhouses for kids. The tires stand about four to five feet in diameter if not larger and the width of the tire is about three feet or more across.  I came out of there one morning and since it was the beginning of March and the stairs were iced up; I fell and hit the back of my head on their stairs. I did not sue them however as I really hate paperwork. They give me donuts now in the mornings, often saving me a bag of day old skidder donuts they sell for a drastically reduced price.The elderly lady that works there happens to be the grandmother of the previously mentioned friend of my son's. She and I and DeeDee sat together at our sons' graduation. I was kind of disappointed that they did not bring donuts but that was kind of wishful thinking anyway. Good thing too, as I am on a diet.
              After heading out of Abbott I head on north to Monson, that is where Gail works. It is also the starting point or the ending point depending on your perspective, of the Appalachian Trail or a major stopping point I am never really sure. I cannot tell you how many backpack clad hikers I have seen walking up and down the streets of Monson. There is a pay phone on my last stop there. I found a wallet with large sums of cash in it laying on the sidewalk once, and not wanting it to be stolen, I turned it over to the sheriff's office.  I called the store up at the same time that the owner of the wallet, who was from away, was there looking for it. He had no car as he had hiked into Monson and wanted me to bring it to him. I almost said it was just a little hike compared to the one he just made, but I refrained. I did not want to make the citizens of Maine look bad. One of the sheriff's took pity and brought it up to him, cash and cards intact.
               I head out for Shirley. It will take me awhile and I sit back for the drive, singing my songs and looking out for moose. Moose have got to be the stupidest animals in God's creation. Moose look like something the Creator threw together with all the left over spare parts that He had because He did not want a mess up in Heaven. They are, however, unbelievably large; with the largest of them often weighing well over a ton. I inadvertently raced one, one morning after I had left Monson, headed for Shirley. He had to lower his head to look into my truck driver side window. I still remember seeing the dumb look in his eyes as he was trying to figure out what kind of animal was running next to him making all the racket. Ever see a moose running one way with his head pointed another way? I decided to be merciful and let him win the race. That is as close as I ever want to get to one ever again. The males sometimes cannot tell the difference between a female moose and a human. That is not an exaggeration, it has something to do with the doe pee that hunters put on and overly musky perfume as well. I hear about a different 'attack' every couple of years.
               I head to Greenville after I leave Shirley. There are a few stops there and then I turn around and head back to Guilford and from there head into Parkman. Along the way I have a few stops that I stop at to take pictures at various times of the year. I have gotten some really stunning photos of the sunrises, Moosehead Lake and what ever that bog is at the lower end of the lake. The water laps at the road every spring. I wonder what will the people on the far side will do if it ever floods over. I have a certain waterfall that I stop at in the fall because the back drop of stunning colors next to the rushing water is just perfect. this year I swear I am going to get rid of the hose floating around in the bottom of the falls. It ruins my shot every freaking time. Mom likes that picture of the falls. I send her a new one every year. there are some spots along this stretch of the drive that offer some stunning photo opportunities around sunrise, weather beaten old farmhouses standing alone in the fields, fog blanketing the fields, various wild animals eating in the fields, crossing the roads, thinking about crossing the roads. I laugh everytime I pass one rather new cluttered up house. I once saw a red fox mother barely more than a kit herself carrying a dead rabbit down the road, I assume back to her litter of kits. She trotted just as proudly as she could tripping over the damn rabbit the whole way. The guys at Jamieson's Pizza Shop, located in the town, laughed when I told them what I had seen. Said that they knew of her. They had been watching her since she was orphaned real young; not to hunt her, but they were rooting for her to survive. They admired her gumption and her courage. It was even mentioned about leaving fresh kill by the den to help her out when she birthed her litter. I sincerely hope she stays away from chickens, ducks, and geese. Her reprieve would then be over. those grizzled old hunters tickle me to listen to their wild stories. I plop a paper in front of Harris's Drug store and it is my last stop before heading back out of town. Harris's looks like an old five and dime and in fact I think it was. I have never been in there but I have heard there is still the old counter where you can order an ice cream soda. I keep meaning to find out.
              The drive to Parkman is about forty minutes or so in which time I am thinking about my grocery list, how much homework I have to do, and if there is a way I could study and drive without killing someone. I crashed the truck once at the top of the hill just out of Greenville proper. I hit some black ice and the last thing I saw was a log truck, down the road a piece, barreling towards me. I got my truck turned around and headed back to town in the nick of time, pulled in the first parking lot I came to, and called Jeanette, the office manager, at home because I could not remember what I was supposed to do. Jeanette, who upon answering the phone, told me to, "call the police, dummy." In my defense I had hit my head and all I could think about was how I was going to get fired. Chad had come in that morning from up north and said how this was the last run with this truck. We were getting a new one and this was being traded in. Apparently as I totaled the truck, the boss got more on the pay out than he would have for trade in value. He was happy enough I guess. I still have my job so maybe. I blame Chad, he jinxed me.
              Parkman is usually where my bladder lets me know that I have had quite a bit of coffee by now. I also have to wash my blackened fingers again. It makes me wonder because I have to wash my hands to go to the bathroom, then I have to wash my hands again. There is a brand new country store there that sits upon the place where and old one burned down. It is the kind of country store where all the old men in town gather in the mornings to sit and share stories of glory days gone by. A few of these old men have lived in this same town all their lives, and grown up together. They know each others stories better than the tellers of them do. I often wish I had a tape recorder so I can record these stories. The men are funny, charming, and quite the rascals sometimes. They are the remnants of an era, I can can only dream about and barely remember the last vestiges of myself.
               I wave good bye and with a friendly, "Have a good day!" to the room at large, I leave Parkman and wind my way in through Cambridge and out towards Harmony. Cambridge is beautiful for a small town. The center of town is an s-curve that has steep little knolls at both ends of it. Recently a log truck missed the corner and plowed into the side of the only store in town that sits in the middle of that set of curves. There is a spot just outside of Cambridge as one is headed to Harmony, where there is a picture post card shot of a very large hill on a lake's edge. There are always geese and ducks on the lake in the fall, on their way south. I have gotten some great shots of that too. I love to get shots of the geese swimming across the lake and leaving little trails in the water behind them. I always dream about starting my own post card business, then I think about the trouble the post office is in and I put that dream away. Snail mail is a thing of the past, sadly.
              Harmony is a small town down the road ten or twelve miles or so. One of the town managers got it in their head that putting in a turn-around on that stretch of nothing was a good idea. Everyone else is having trouble figuring out why, but the town went ahead and ok'd it. I think it is a waste of money everytime I see it.
further on down is the Lakes Family heating oil business. Sad affair that one, he got upset with her for leaving him and for one reason or another shot his ex and their two kids then himself. My eyes fill up everytime I pass the place because of the stupid waste of life.Harmony has a free fair and they like to think that they can compete with the County Fair in Dover. They are constantly taking down the County Fair's posters,  and putting up their own. It aggravates me since I am the one who put the County Fair's signs up to begin with. Someday I am going to return the favor in a big way.
              From then on it is up a hill down a hill with a blind corner thrown in there between them for good measure. It is not too bad in the summer but the winter is some real white knuckle driving. My truck is modified with an extra leaf spring to compensate for the full load of the papers. By the time I receive the truck to do my route the weight is substantially less, so the back end of my truck gets a little bouncy. In the winter when I hit frost heaves, potholes, and what not, it is difficult to control the truck sometimes as the back end has a tendency to fish tail and it threatens to spin out. I have taken some of those hills at about fifteen miles an hour due to snow and ice but thanks to studded snow tires, I can get up the hills ok, albeit slowly. It is about twenty five minutes on that stretch in the summer, and in the winter I have taken upwards of an hour. When we have fall mornings it is stunning to look down across the mountains and see the vivid colors splashed all over the mountain side against the back drops of green pine trees and deep blue azure skies. I came down across that stretch my first winter of driving and was blocked by a milk truck stuck in the snow across the road. I had a bag or three of sand in the back, and a shovel. I wanted to help the guy out more but I was just in his way. By and by the farmer came along with his very large tractor and pulled him out. In the mean time I handed out papers to the cars that were backing up and we all had a good discussion about the state of affairs, how the guy got that way, and where we were all going to. I have kept extras in the truck since then, just for that reason. I come into Dexter at about 7:30 A.M. or so. the business are starting to open up, school buses on the road, and people. I have to really hurry now as my coffee is empty again, and I make my stops so I can get to Noah's Landing. There is a bakery there that all though not as good as the ones on the front half of my journey, is pretty good for the back half. Sometimes they give me a donut and a small coffee on stormy days. I am always grateful. Rite aid is the last stop and if it is before 8 A.M. then I know that I am on time for the rest of my drive to Newport.
               I stop at P and L Groceries which is the last big bundle of the day, the rest are small and doubled over. My drive is well past half over and now thoughts of home are percolating through my mind. Home and my son, and school and wishing I had only taken five classes and not six as I am not giving any of them the  attention they deserve. But I step on it and hit the three stops in Newport, the third one being Irving's, which is right next to Dunkin' Donuts. I usually pull through there and get a coffee, they know the truck now and sometimes throw in a couple of munchkins with it. I slide them a paper for their lunch room in return. The last stop out of town is dropping off the advertizing free copies at Varney's. I always I wonder if it is Brent Varney that owns it.
               I see a lot of police on the next stretch so I buckle up and head for Dexter, just as fast as the law will allow. About half way to Dexter, I call my daughter on the company cell phone and yak my way through a couple of towns. On the Dexter side of Dover, I stop at the Log Cabin and they usually have something for me to test out. I am a guinea pig to them. I do not care; they have the best bread this side of Dover. I leave and head over to Garland, drop off the final two bundles and head home. Garland store is always trying to tempt me with their double chocolate cheesecake muffins. Oh wow! Some days I forget I am on a diet and buy one. They are so freaking good. Home awaits, and with it the final paperwork, the cleaning out the truck, and dropping off the cell phone. I elect to walk home, mostly because I am trying to lose weight and the fresh air and exercise will do me some good. It is just about lunchtime and I need to eat something healthy for a change.