Hit and Run

Being a professional driver, my travels take me all over this city.  Even in my former professions, I found myself traveling the highways and bi-ways of our fair province, so I've had the privilege to see many great things.  I've gotten to see a wild bison.  That was cool.  I had a near-miss collision with a moose.  That was an interesting experience.  I've even gotten to see the midnight sky, lit up by the dancing Aurora Borealis.  Unfortunately, there are some things I wish I hadn't seen.

The first time I ever drove solo as a long distance courier, a small bird flew in front of the van I was driving and sadly, before I had a chance to slow the vehicle, the bird had tried to fly out from in front of me, but I clipped it with the radio antenna and (thankfully) it was killed instantly.  I had to pull over to remove the little bird from the antenna, as it's neck had fractured and was still attached to the van.  I recall crying real tears as I knelt on the side of the road, this little bird lying before me.

Driving transit, I've seen many deceased carcasses on the road.  Birds, dogs, cats, etcetera.  Yesterday, I saw a small fox lying at the side of Lowe Road just before you enter into Evergreen in Saskatoon.  The needless loss of life, broke my heart, but because it was a fox, it reminded me of the time I was leaving Tisdale, heading south on highway 35.  I passed by a scene that would have staggered even the most callous of hearts.  It appeared that a mother fox had been hit by a car, but instead of running for safety, her two kits stayed by her side, ultimately being run over themselves.  It was a horrifying scene and a memory I wish I would lose quickly.

In addition to that wild life, I'm seeing lots of birds about town.  These ones baffle me, but I suspect that they're swooping down to grab the carcasses of the gophers that are strewn about on the streets.  Wherever there's a park or a field, there's sure to be dead gophers about.  I understand the plight of the birds.  I recall once upon a time, driving a former bosses car back from Winnipeg, when I struck an owl that was swooping down to grab a quick meal.  Instead it lost it's life and my boss needed to replace the grille in his VW Golf.

Worst thing I've seen, to date, was this morning.  I was driving by a fresh kill.  So fresh that the lower extremities of this poor little soul, was flattened by whatever motor vehicle happened by, it's limbs still flailing.  It horrified me and shook me to the very core of my being.

Given the size ratio of a gopher to a motor vehicle is gargantuan.  A forty foot transit bus weighing over 42K lbs, is no match for much of anything, especially a little gopher.  On Friday morning I was heading south on Preston, when a little fella ran out in front of me.  I damn near lost control of the bus as I hit the brakes.  I missed it, but felt it wasn't long for this world and yep!  On my next pass by that part of the street, it had, in fact, been hit and the magpies had already descended down for their feast.

One early morning in 2017, I was driving past an acreage outside of Birch Hills.  They had two dogs, one a large shaggy white dog, while the other was a wiry black short-haired dog.  They would often stand at the edge of the property and bark at passing traffic, even pursuing a foot chase on occasion.  On this particular morning, I saw the two dogs, only their attention wasn't aimed at the traffic.  Instead, I saw that the large shaggy white dog was motionless, laying on it's side, while the black dog was laying perpendicular, with it's head resting atop of it's pal.  My heart broke. 💔 It was apparent that during one of their foot chases, the white dog had been hit and was deceased.  My heart goes out to anyone who's lost a pet, especially when it's a hit and run case, like this seemed to be.

A few days later, I was passing that same acreage outside Birch Hills, when I was greeted by the same duo, standing out on the edge of the property, tails wagging and barking at passing vehicles and equipment.  "What the hell?" I thought, to myself.  I don't know the motive behind the dogs putting on that display prior to this day, but I thought they must have some kind of sense of humour.  Silly dogs.

I don't handle death very well.  People are one thing, but animals, man!  I can't deal with that shit.

Shit Talking

The morning was cool and moist.  I'd loaded up my truck, arranging all the packages according to town and destination.  Normally it took me about an hour to load the Ford F-450 cube van all by myself, but the task flew by relatively quickly and I sped off, ahead of schedule.  The time was close to 5am and the sun had not yet broken the seal of a new day.  I headed north, towards Prince Albert, my first stop.  The world around me at that early morn, was stranger than usual.  The humidity hung in the air, evident only by strands of fog stretching across the four lane split highway, like ribbons on a gift wrappers table.  Each appearing as eerie as it did elegant and beautiful.  It's an image that returns to my mind on those brisk spring time mornings.

I'd arrived and departed from the storage facility in Prince Albert, located at the south end of town.  I had no incident.  In and out like an international spy, racing away with secret documents.  Only I didn't have any such items in my possession.  Only half a truck full of large boxes and some car parts.  My destination was now Melfort, located about an hour to the east.  By this time, the sun was beginning to peek over the horizon, shining extra brightly, piercing through my visor and blinding me, by the time I'd reached Birch Hills, SK.  It was also around this time where I began to feel a little off.

It wasn't sickness or anything alike, but it was more of an uncomfortable pressure.  I had a poop coming on.  I was confident that I could not only make it to Melfort before anything bad might occur.  The guy I met every day, was usually a few minutes late arriving when I would be there, so I thought I could make it to the Tim Horton's in well enough time.  With the lack of traffic at that time I arrived with only minutes to spare, however, as fate would have it, the guy I normally had to wait on, was already at the meeting site.  I didn't have a whole lot to hand off to him, mostly just large items, so I helped load him up, all the while fighting the pressure that was building in my downstairs region.

I was relieved when the fella departed right away, rather than engaging in the small chit-chat that he regularly partook in.  I locked up my van and began the arduous trek across the uneven broken ground between the parking area and the Timmy Ho's.  By this time, my butt cheeks were clenched so tight, that if you'd have placed a lump of coal between them, I would have produced a diamond worthy of royalty.  My travel was laborious and difficult, on account I was only able to take small steps from the knees down.

Best I could, I rushed into the donut shop and headed straight to the washroom, but...  Yes.  It was too late.  The floodgates from hell opened up, filling my brand new red boxer briefs in the process.  I had just shit myself and yes, in case you needed to ask, I did feel tremendous shame.  I could have and should have excused myself, when I had initially arrived in Melfort, but like a "tough guy" I chose not to and now I was paying dearly.

In the following weeks, I had a couple more close calls, nearly filling my red boxer briefs before locating adequate facilities.  Once, I needed to duck between lockers at the storage facility in Prince Albert.  I rested my back up against the wall and unleashed the fury.  Another time, happened in Birch Hills.  I was much more vulnerable there, opting to hide behind some large farm equipment and doing my business there.  Again, I was wearing red underwear.  I began seeing a pattern here.  Every time I wore the red under garments, I either had a terrible accident or a near-fatal accident in my shorts.  Even around town, when I'm making a quick run to the grocer, if I'm wearing red undies, I'd better stick close to a public washroom, or else.

I saw my Diabetic nurse today.  A quick meeting to try out one of these sensor things that attach to my arm so I can monitor my blood sugars more easily.  For years, the doctor requested that I do blood check with the strips and the little device, but alas, I am a diabetic and even in Canada with our awesome healthcare, diabetics still get f*cked over.  Those strips cost a LOT of money and I don't have a benefits package at my job.  Hell, if we're being completely honest, I don't even have a f*cking job at this time, but I can't afford to pay, out-of-pocket for those strips.  So I was given some of these sensor pads to try on my phone.  Equally as expensive, so I'm told, but I thought I'd give 'em a try.

Diabetic nurse helped me out, then I was on my way.  I headed to the Wal-Mart to grab some milk, bread and subsequently, some treats for my boy, Monkey.  No sooner had I filled my cart with all my items, that I felt something rumble.  I farted, but it wasn't a fart. It was more beefy than it was gaseous.  Immediately, I recalled slipping on red underwear when I got dressed this morning (TMI?🤨) and the race was on.

Like a starter pistol had fired off, I began to push my cart back across the store.  Of course this shit happens (pardon the pun😉) when I'm at the furthest point away from the public washroom.  Stepping from my knees down, once again, I arduously raced past confused onlookers and congested hubs of hanging apparel.  As the destination drew closer, I felt something tickling my butt cheek, dancing down my leg.  I thought I was losing my keys through another hole in my pocket, but when I shook my leg to free up the keys, a meatball rolled out, coming to a stop under a display of dehumidifiers.  I paused, completely shocked and disgusted by what had just happened.  I'm not as disgusting as those videos of people dropping trow and shitting in a deserted grocery aisle or that pig who squatted in front of a counter at a Tim Horton's in Ontario and took a whopping shit, despite of all the onlookers.  I had apparently shit, nothing terribly catastrophic, but equally as bad.

The situation in the bathroom was not nearly as horrific as I'd initially believed.  It was actually a quick and easy clean up.  I used a LOT of paper, mind you.  Didn't require it, but in these cases, it's better to be overindulgent than thrifty.

This is the kind of shit (again, apologies for the pun), that most people probably wouldn't or shouldn't share with anyone.  Especially my friends and peers, but whatever.  Everyone has shit themselves at some point in their adult lives.  If they claim they haven't they're probably f*cking lying.

I remember one time when my nephew was quite small.  He was just getting out of the diaper-wearing game, so accidents would happen sometimes.  I remember this one time, he shit himself and my sister went off on him.  The kid had a lot of FOMO (Fear Of Missing Out) and this always lead to his accidents.  He believed that something exciting might happen while he was in the bathroom.  So this one time, my sister is shitting on him for shitting on himself and the poor kid felt terrible.  He came over to where I was sitting, with tears in his eyes.  I tried to comfort the boy by admitting to him that accidents happen.  That sometimes even adults poop themselves.  My sister overheard this and ripped me a new asshole, yelling at me to stop lying to him and that I needed to tell him I was lying.  Instead, I looked her dead in the eye and asked, "Are you f*cking high?"  Everybody shits themselves.  I've done it at least twice in my adult life.

I doubt anyone will read this, which is why I feel confident in writing this blog.  Judge me or don't.  I don't don't give two shits.  If a person can't laugh at themselves, sometimes, then they're just shitheads...  There's a lot of shit talk this post.  Hmm. 🤔