RE:RE:RE:Novo's Haulage ContractorHarrmonica wrote: ronreagan wrote: Let's hope somebody answers the ad, I'd hate for QH or RH to have to do it themselves, and I think they would.
They dont say if they cut a circular hole in the floor between the seats. How can one tell if they are a serious outfit.
H
You know H, you can really come off with some negative waves some times. Let me tell you about my experiences with positive waves.
Almost 40 yrs ago (when I was a real punk), I worked with a guy the called "Triple T". It was a shortened name for Tiits, Travelers, and Toilet.
Let me elaborate.
He was a boozer who suffered from chronic colitis, and he drank and drove his car with reckless abandon. He captained one of those shitty 80's Honda Civic "Japanese Mr Bean" cars, where he replaced the passenger seat with a portable marine toilet, His colitis affliction resulted in him having to relieve himself almost every hour, hence the need of the toilet in the Civic. He simply pulled over when he needed to take care of business.
T = Toilet (portable)
As a result of this debilitating condition, his car smelled like $hit. I mean, it was bad. But he always showed up for work on time, and got the job done despite his chronic affliction. But being a very astute thinker, he realized that no traffic cop could deal with his situation, and the $hitty smelling Honda Civic which was one window "roll down" from an unconscious episode. So, he drank beers continuously as he drove inebriated. It made his life tolerable. His bottled medicine remedied the pain of the road. There was never an accident.
T = "Travelers". In his case, it was Labatt Blue.
I was younger then. Younger than "Triple T". As a result of my youth and his failing marriage brought about by his offensive condition, we both ended up as regulars at the local strip joint just north of the Downview Airbase in Toronto . We had plenty of money to spread around because we were high octane operators in what we did. And the strippers benefited handsomely. All was well in those halcyon days.
T = Tiits. And maybe a little more.
"Triple T" was everything that embodied the power of positive over negative. An unsinkable human spirit that turned every spade thrown his way into a Hearts Royal Flush. In the end, the colitis, the colostomies, the strap-on bag, and finally the onset of cancer wiped him out.
I was devastated. No one else cared. Not even his wife.
24/7 and holes between seats. I'm OK with that. It's not a problem if the right people are on the job.
Tx