United We Stand.....

Good evening friends and neighbors from a small fuel stop in Laurel, Mississippi. Tomorrow I'll get up early and take this load into the flood ravaged parts of southern Louisiana. When I first got here I went inside to get a quick bite to eat in a Huddle House restaurant attached to the fuel stop. I mostly listened to the conversation going on about the floods and thousands of displaced people in the area just south of here where I'm heading. They talked about the millions, possibly billions, of dollars in damage. People's jobs, homes, places of worship and businesses destroyed. Some of the people and businesses may pack up and leave as they did after Katrina, never to return. Most of these people didn't have flood insurance. The people talking were a rather diverse group. There were the cooks, waitresses, truck drivers and just your average citizens. Their conversations centered around family and friends in the area and also what they were doing as far as donations and volunteering time to help clean up. I'm sure several of these people live paycheck to paycheck and barely make enough to live on, much less donate, but here they were helping out any way possible. The people were also both black and white. You didn't hear talk of black lives matter or blue lives matter or white lives matter. The only thing on their minds was, "EVERYONE MATTERS and we've all got to pitch in and help in any way possible.

As I got back to the truck I felt a little better about mankind. These people didn't care about the politicians or agitators, they only know people need help. They don't care about color, sex, nationality or any other thing that may set them apart. They're brothers and sisters in life. I normally don't talk about what I have in the truck as there are too many people ready to steal whatever they can to make a quick buck, even if it means stealing from those in need. This time I'm carrying a load of diapers. That's right something as simple as diapers. Something that people my age normally wouldn't think of as being a necessity. But it did make me think of all the babies and toddlers in need. Yesterday on Facebook I saw a video of Trump handing out toys from a truck. At the time all I could think about was what a waste of resources. Now with the load I'm carrying I had to back up and rethink this. Were these needed? You bet. Anything to give a little bit of comfort to a small, displaced child.

We should all look at the way most of the people down here have pitched in to help. We should all do anything we can, even in our own communities. This nation must reunite! We all heard someone say if you don't like the way things are, leave. No! Don't leave, fight. Not along your narrow little political agenda but for the betterment of all society. We don't need color barriers or anything else to stand in our way. If we don't reunite soon, and with a purpose, we will become another third world country fighting to survive day by day.

Several years ago Leon Everette and the Faith Riders Band released a song and video called "United We Stand." The song was recently re-released with a new video and has reached number 7 on the Top 20 Country Countdown ahead of some very interesting artists. Give a listen. I believe the words alone will help understand where we are and where we need to be. Click on the link:

Leon Everette and the Faith Riders Band

I hate to say it but I guess I'm as bad as the next guy when it comes to helping out someone in need. I have crossed the street to keep from running into homeless people, but I am trying to do better as each of us should.

The Faith Riders Motorcycle Ministry motto: James 2:26 "As the body without the spirit is dead, Faith without good deeds is also dead".

I'll try to do better if you will.

Love you all and until next time give a brother a helping hand.

The Motorcycle Ride Of My Life

The man who saw it has given testimony, and his testimony is true. He knows that he tells the truth, and he testifies so that you also may believe.  (John 19:35) NIV

Quite awhile back our evening Church service deviated from the norm and seemed to be turning into a real, old time Holy Ghost revival with music, singing, and testimonies. Now don't get me wrong, our Church always has wonderful music and our pastors always preach the Bible. Every 5th Sunday we have singing and testimony during the evening service. I really don't remember this particular night as being one of those. As I remember it the music from Leon and the Faith Riders Band and the opening prayer really got the Church moving. There was a presence in that service where you could feel the Lord working. Pastor Atkinson said the Lord was moving and to let it continue. Someone was asking others to get up and give a testimony and made the comment, "Everyone has a testimony, you all have one, whether you know it or not." I can't remember who it was but I'm sure it was either Kid or Leon. I turned to my wife, Diane, and quietly told her, "Not me, I don't have one." She just gave me one of those looks, like she does from time to time when I go off into my own little world.

Diane giving me one of "Those Looks"

Like I said, that was a long time back but for some reason I've been thinking about that night a lot lately, and it led me to the realization that not only do I have a testimony, my entire life has been a testimony.

When I was younger I never thought I'd live to see 30, then as I passed 30, 35, then 40, I still had to always be right on the edge, always wide open. Most of those who knew me pretty much also believed I was living on borrowed time. I used to tell people, "When I go, you're going to read about it. Not in the obituaries, but on the front page." I figured that my time on this earth would end in an horrific car or motorcycle crash, maybe during a pursuit while working, or racing, or maybe even heading home, driving or riding like a maniac, or maybe I'd get shot by some crazy I was trying to arrest during an undercover narcotics or firearms deal, or by a mad boyfriend or husband of some woman I happened to be chasing at the time. Now here I am at 62. I still  like to go to the edge. Only now I go to the edge and look over instead of jumping off. I look back on those days and know during that time the Lord was protecting me while leading me in a direction that I didn't understand. I didn't know where I was being taken, why, for what purpose. Those things are still somewhat hazy to me. I still don't know where, exactly, this journey is taking me. Maybe this is part of my journey. Maybe this is where I'm being led, to tell you, and others, how I got to where I am today and to help you realize that every now and then you just have to follow along where ever the Lord is leading you. I have dozens of testimonies, or stories, of how God has led me, used me, or just pulled me through trying times when, at the time, I didn't even know it. 

We've all heard the saying that, "God works in mysterious ways." This is just one of the ways he has worked in my life.

You all see me in my vest, tee shirt, boots and jeans, this is me. This is who I am today. This is probably who I've always been. Motorcycles have taken me in a full circle and brought me to where I am today. I'm not only talking about physically. I'm talking about where I am in my life, at this very moment in time. I know I'm still not where I'm supposed to be, but I am well on my way. So now I'm sure I've got you wondering, "How can the Lord use a motorcycle to bring you around?" Well, listen up. It's no telling what, or who, he is using to bring you home.

I've had a love affair with motorcycles since I was about 14 years old and my brother brought home a brand new 1968 BSA 65o Lightning and taught me how to ride it. I did hundreds of miles just riding around and around the house. I was Michael Parks in Then Came Bronson, heading off to some far away place and some new adventure. I was Steve McQueen trying to escape from a Nazi prison camp. It seemed to be a new destination, a new adventure, each time I lapped the house. After a short time my brother lost interest in the bike and sold it. Broke my heart, but I didn't forget the exhilaration I felt each time I heard that powerful engine come to life, the distinctive click when it was put into gear and the way it pushed you back as you eased onto the throttle. It's a feeling that a lot of people will never know and some of us can always feel by just closing our eyes and thinking. So how did that bring me here?

As I've talked about before, when I was 17 years old a preacher followed my girlfriend and I to the car one night after church and told me, "We don't need your kind at this Church." He proceeded to call me a "long-haired, dope smoking, hippie," although I was dressed in a coat and tie, was neat and clean, with my "long hair" (over the ears and barely touching my collar) clean and combed.

The 17 y/o Long Haired, Dope Smoking Hippie

That night I walked away from the church and didn't look back. Life changed, I changed. Oh, at first everything stayed pretty much the same. I didn't go back to church and told myself if that's the way churches are then I didn't need the hassle. Let's see how they like it when they're no longer getting my $3.50 tithes every week. (That was 10% of my weekly salary. You do the math) I could read my Bible and study on my own. Right. We all know how that works out, first you try to read nightly, then it's every few nights, then occasionally. Eventually you lay your Bible on the shelf. You may pick it up again, sometimes, and read a little, then you lay it over there and things get placed on it and eventually you not only don't even think about it, you probably couldn't find it if you wanted to. After that night at Church my girlfriend and I started arguing, mainly over my refusal to go to church, any church, but then over anything. That was okay too. I remembered an old love, one that wouldn't argue with me, one that would be ready, willing, and able, one that would go wherever I wanted, whenever I wanted. She'd always be at my beck and call. So on my next day off I went looking and I found her. A brand new 1971 Honda motorcycle. I couldn't wait to go show it to my "other love." As soon as I pulled up she came out of her house and went off on me, mainly about what I could have better spent my money on and how much I had changed in the last few weeks. She absolutely refused to go for a ride just around the block. I left and went by work and showed her off and then just went cruising. Wow! When she talks, it's music. Well when I got home I called my girl, or what used to be my girl, because as soon as she answered she told me she wouldn't be seeing me anymore and we should do our best to avoid each other at school and anywhere else. No problem, I had a new woman waiting under the carport. I went out fired her up and off we went. Again she didn't complain.

I started dressing different. Black jacket, boots and jeans. I let the hair get longer. Out of a school of around two thousand students there were two of us that rode bikes. I became the outlaw, the movie and television persona of what a biker was. I acted tough. I was wild. I learned to really ride. All of a sudden I started being noticed at school. Before I just blended into the crowd. I found a lot of the prim and proper girls who had never even given me a second look were now speaking, even asking for a ride. "Just don't tell anybody." To them I was James Dean, rebel without a cause. To me I was still Tony "Butch" Taylor, rebel without a clue. It didn't take long for that lifestyle to get old. It's hard being someone you're really not. Sure, I liked the little bit of attention, I liked the girls, I liked the idea that people would speak to me that never before knew I existed. What I didn't like was me. I was lost and floundering. I really didn't have a clue. I was lonelier than I had ever been. I didn't know where to turn next. I never once thought about turning back to that Bible sitting on my shelf. I hadn't been a good student in a while and now I wasn't doing anything. One day I left school and never went back. I didn't quit. That would have involved telling everyone bye, signing papers, turning in books, I just left. I guessed that sooner or later they'd figure it out. A couple of days later I was taking entrance exams to join the Navy. The first anyone knew of this is when I told my mom, "I hope you're not too busy tomorrow." "Why." "I need to you to take me to Columbia, Fort Jackson, and drop me off. I joined the Navy." That went over real well, especially since Vietnam was still raging. Again, I hadn't told anyone about this, not even my closest friends. I just disappeared from Augusta, Ga. Eventually everyone found out but, this way seemed easier.

During my time in the Navy and all the years after I was never without a motorcycle long. I continued to ride and enjoy the freedom it gave me. I could take off and for a while forget all my troubles, relax, and come back feeling refreshed.

After the Navy, as a detective in Greenwood, I would get up in the morning, put on my coat and tie, clip my gun on my side and my badge to my belt, jump on my bike and take off to work, coat blowing in the wind, gun and badge just shining. The Chief finally called me in one morning to tell me that he didn't mind the fact that I rode a bike, but "would I please cover up the gun and badge," he was getting complaints. Easy enough, a shoulder holster and London Fog coat fixed that. Now that was a cool look.

I eventually moved to Aiken County where I spent a long time as a "deep cover" undercover officer. Only about 4 people in the Sheriff's Office even knew who I was. The old Johnny Rivers song "Secret Agent Man" pretty much told my story, especially the part of "...giving you a number and taking away your name." Five twenty-two. That was my call sign and that's pretty much all anyone knew of who I was. 3x5 cards were even put up at the dispatcher's consoles advising them that "If 522 calls in, don't ask questions, just give him what he needs." Again, I was pretending to be someone I really wasn't.

I mention that because as a cop, a hundred percent cop, you don't have a lot of friends. Even the people you were closest to growing up try to avoid you. It ends up the only friends you have are other cops, and you're real careful about which ones you allow in. As an undercover officer you don't even have them to turn to. You can't trust anyone. No one can know who you are or what you do. I was a loner and preferred it that way. When the undercover side of things was finally over, I kept that mindset and didn't trust anyone. I was always looking for the worst in people. After I retired I realized I had pretty much shut myself off from the rest of the world outside my immediate family. I didn't have any real friends.

I had sold my last motorcycle years earlier because of family obligations. After Diane and I bought the truck she began to ride with me and we traveled the country together. Over time she noticed that every time a motorcycle would pass I'd check it out. One day she made the comment, "You'd like to have another one, wouldn't you?" Well yeah. "If you think we can afford it, see if you can find one." "Oh no....you're gonna allow me to buy one. Let me tell you who wears the pants in this house. If I want an motorcycle, I'll just tell you....Baby please.....Can I buy a motorcycle?" Well I found one. We started riding and joined the Harley Owners Group. Next thing you know we're riding with them, going to dinners or just hanging out. Life started changing. We were making friends again and enjoying getting out with other people. Next it was the American Legion and American Legion Riders. From those guys we learned about the Patriot Guard Riders We joined and started attending missions every chance we could.

Diane and I at a Patriot Guard Mission in Union, SC

Are you starting to get the picture? The bike was actually giving us, me in particular, a new life, and new friends who didn't care what career I had before. Some of the people we were now meeting were veterans, some active duty military, some were retired or active police officers. Even those who weren't military or police were good, patriotic, people with old fashioned values. This kept us busy when we weren't on the road and it was giving me a new focus on life. Police officers are cynical by nature and the job only increases this cynicism as you mostly see only the worst side of people. All of a sudden we were in the midst of people who thought of others first. They were the first to lend a hand when someone was in need. They looked out for each other and the community as a whole.

During this time we were volunteering and riding for charities but felt we still needed something more, something was still missing. Diane's mom had moved in with us and kept reminding us that without God and Faith in our lives, no matter what we did, it wouldn't be enough. We did try to go to a few churches. I was still leery of churches and I was probably just looking to find something wrong at each of them but still I never felt comfortable. I felt as if I was still being "checked out." Was I dressed right and were my clothes nice enough? Was my car new enough? Again, it was probably me, but I just wasn't comfortable.

One Friday evening while taking a break in the truck I was checking the internet to see if there were any Patriot Guard Riders missions coming up or anything with the American Legion Riders or the Harley Owners to do over the next few days since I was heading home and would have a few days off. There was nothing so I just started looking for motorcycle events in the Aiken/Augusta area when I tripped across an event that had occurred the previous weekend. It had been a motorcycle rally/revival at Faith Riders Fellowship Church. This got my interest. A motorcycle rally? Combined with a church revival? What kind of bikers were these? Well I started looking for more information on this Church and found bits and pieces here and there. I found they had regular church services in Aiken. Hmmmm? Interesting. I also found that the music minister was Leon Everette who I had known and followed way, way back when he was an up and coming country musician playing the bars in and around Augusta trying to get a break. I had even gone to a dance hall and bar he owned in Aiken several times. I had kissed my future wife, Diane, for the first time on the dance floor at his club. I called Diane and told her what I had found about the church and asked if she would like to go Sunday since I would be home.

On Sunday we dressed casually since what I had seen said "Come as you are." We headed for the address I had found for them. I guess I should have looked closer at the address because when we pulled in the parking lot it was our old dance hall. Now it's a church? Just wow! As I looked around and saw all the motorcycles under the awning, and cars in the parking lot I began to have second thoughts. Diane and I just sat in the parking lot awhile talking about it. Neither of us were real sure. I said at the time it was curiosity. Not true. I know there are a lot of you who watch NCIS and see Gibbs smack Dinozzo in the back of the head when he screws up, or is about to. That's what the Lord did to me that morning. He smacked me in the head and told me to get out of that car and get in there! As we got to the front door Leon met us with hugs and handshakes as he welcomed us and told us we were going to love it there. I had seen the Pastor's name on the sign out front, Jack Atkinson. Before I could finish asking if that was the same person I knew, Leon interrupted with, "Yep, that's your old boss." He had been the Chief Deputy at the Aiken County Sheriff's Office when I was there. I knew he was always a good and Godly man but, I never knew he was a Preacher.

As we walked in with Leon and he began to introduce us there were more hugs, handshakes, and welcomes. On entering the Sanctuary I recognized other active and retired Police Officers I worked with over the years. There were also dozens of bikers, some former addicts, or alcoholics sitting there along with people from every walk of life. This place was amazing! I did tell Diane that there were probably several people there I had arrested over the years and I might have to fight my way out of there. If anyone recognized me and carried a grudge they didn't let on. We were welcomed by everyone. We had a wonderful day with this real life melting pot of people. We went back that evening and continue going until this day.

Diane rededicated her life to God after only a couple of weeks.  She got baptized, and became a member of the church and a very special prayer warrior. It took me considerably longer as I still had questions about my faith and where I was headed. Eventually the Lord smacked me again and I gave my life back to him. I was baptized and shortly after that I also became a member of the Church. Today Diane and I stand in that same doorway where we were welcomed that first day and we are the ones giving the handshakes and hugs, welcoming both the newcomers and those who have been here since the foundation of the church. We are both considered leaders in the church. I am proud that the Lord saw, in his infinite wisdom, where I needed to be and led me. He knew when the time was right, not me. He gave me the stories to tell and the ability to tell those stories, both in writing, and in person. I cannot quote scriptures and verse. I can tell how the Lord has helped me.

I know this has been a rather long article. It should be. It was a long ride from where I was until now. Sure, we still have our trials but, they are so much easier to overcome today. Yes I still worry, only not like I did before. Today I am still learning to just look to God and ask him to get me through it. He does, only on his time.

We still have two wheels

Now you know how a motorcycle brought me on this long ride. God used what I loved to bring me full circle. He knew that I couldn't tell my story if I didn't have one to tell.

Diane's Ride

You also have stories to tell. The Lord is trying to take you somewhere. Don't be hardheaded like me. Listen to what he has to say. Find a church. Find a church family. Look if you need to. Don't be afraid to try new places and new people. Most of all get down on your knees and truly ask God where he wants and needs you.

1 John 4:1 (NIV) Dear Friends, Do not believe every spirit, but test the spirits to see whether they are from God, because many false prophets have gone out into this world.

Here We Go Again

For those who follow my Facebook Page, Life From The Slow Lane, you know by now that we jumped head first into the trucking business again.

After a lot of number crunching, soul searching, and prayer we agreed to sign on the dotted line for a new truck. The only people who knew we were even contemplating this move were a few of our closest friends who knew the trucking business from the inside and a couple who have absolutely no idea about trucking but know us well enough to slap some sense back into us if they thought we were making a mistake. We love all of you and thank you for your continued support and prayers as we start this journey again.

The last time we decided to do this we were 10 years younger and naive about what it took to run a business (College can give you the basics but until you jump in you have no idea). I was in a job I hated and Diane had just been told her job was being outsourced overseas. I jokingly said, "Why don't we buy a truck and see the country? The next thing either of us knew we were in Nashville signing our life away and then headed to Kansas to lease our new (4 year old) Peterbilt to National Carriers in Liberal. 14 months later we were ready to throw in the towel and give up. We forged ahead by cancelling the lease and leasing with Palmer Transport out of Ontario, California. We were hauling new furniture made in the southeast to all points west and returning with new furniture made overseas to the east. We had found a home. The people were great to work with and no one pressured you to run too hard. The loads were light meaning tremendous fuel savings. It was hard work but it paid well and with the wonderful, hard working wife I have we turned everything around within a few months. Then our lack of business savvy hit us again. We were making money like we never had and instead of putting a percentage back we were spending every dime that came in. We lived like there was no tomorrow. Had to have the newest and best of everything. Then reality sank in. The recession was beginning. People still had no idea why their money wasn't going as far as it used to but they quit spending. When you start tightening your belt one of the first things we learned is that people don't buy furniture. If the springs from that old sofa aren't sticking you in the butt, it can wait. All of a sudden we were getting to California with no loads out and when the IRS finds out how much money you make they want a much larger cut. After a couple of months we were slipping in that dark hole again. While sitting in Ontario one day without having a load to get us out I started looking around for somewhere else to possibly lease the truck. I found Schneider National and what they referred to as the "Choice" program. You go on their website, look through their loads and pick what you want to do, where you want to go, and when you want to go there. You see upfront how much a load pays, how much it weighs, and everything you need to know to make an informed decision. I knew nothing about dispatching a truck or what to look for as that part had always been done for me. Even though we owned our business, we still were treated like an employee at most companies. For the most part it worked for me.

Some people hated this program and some loved it. I loved it. For the first time I was actually my own boss. My fate rested in my hands. Work hard you can do well. We were doing okay. After a couple of years Diane's mom started getting sick and started falling. We were afraid for her safety and decided Diane needed to be home for her. We moved her in with us and for the first time in about 6 years I lost my partner and best friend from the truck. It took quite a while before I got used to looking over at the passenger seat and not seeing her over there. She never got bored, and never complained. Everyone we knew tried to talk us out of her going with me on the truck telling us that we had too good of a marriage to ruin it by being right up under each other 24 hours a day. It worked just the opposite. It gave us the opportunity to know each other and get that much closer. Now her time at home has allowed her to reconnect with old friends, get deeper involved with our church, and become a real grandma to our grand kids. She also works as needed with one of her "besties." While she was on the truck with me she learned how I liked to run and where so she will also be helping to dispatch me. I guess I'm kinda jealous that these people, her job, and other activities have taken her out of the truck, but I'm proud to see her have the life she deserves for the first time in years.

I know this seems to be a drastic move at a time when I should be thinking about sitting back and relaxing. That is as far as it got, thinking about it. That just isn't me. Also we decided that financially I couldn't just sit and do nothing.

When our old truck went down with almost 1.5 million miles we decided it was time to put it, and us, out of our misery. I took a job with as a company driver and lasted all of 12 days. I tried another with Heartland Express and I won't say anything bad about them. They were a good company to work for but again, I was miserable the entire time I was there. Nothing to do with them, I just found how hard it is to work for someone else after doing it so long for yourself.

So here I am again. This time with a new 2016 Freightliner Cascadia Evolution truck. It will take a lot of hard work but with the support of friends, family, and our faith that the Lord will continue to guide us, we will be able to make a go of it.

I will be updating as frequently as possible through my Facebook page so please follow along with this renewed adventure at the link above and feel free to send me your comments, suggestions, or ideas. Just click the link and like the page for updates.

Love you all and look forward to hearing from you.

To The Grammar Police: Enough!

Awhile back I overheard a group of people belittling someone because of their improper use of a word. I just stood there, not saying anything and that has continued to irritate me. I was not only upset because of what was said, but even more so because I didn't step in to try to protect this person or at least try to deflect some of the criticism. Last night while browsing through Facebook I saw a post from a friend who had apparently been hurt by some things that were said because of his inability to write and speak in a perfect manner. I will not stand silently by again.

You people that think you're the grammar police are nothing but grown up school yard bullies. Belittling someone who maybe can't spell correctly, or who may say the wrong thing, or put the wrong word in a sentence, WHO CARES! You're no better than the school jock who picks on the weaker kid, or the popular, pretty girls who pick on the plain girl in class. You're bullies. You've finally found something that you do well and want to come down on everyone who can't live up to your expectations. Apparently there are some shortcomings in your own life you're trying to detract from. I'm not just talking about the grammar people here, but those who always have to gossip or belittle someone else.

Back to the grammar police.

Do you really think that person wouldn't enjoy being able to spell better or speak more fluently? Some people didn't have the opportunity to have a proper education. It was only recently that schools started trying to identify students with learning disabilities and to help them improve. Before it was just "Send them on to the next grade and let someone else deal with them. Maybe it's a learning disability or maybe they dropped out of school to help the family in bad financial times. Maybe their parents didn't have an education and they grew up listening to the way they spoke. Maybe even a combination of all these things. Who knows and again who cares? If they ask for help I'll be the first to jump in. You can bet I won't be publicly berating them. Maybe you think because you're not pointing any particular person out on your ignorant Facebook posts that it's just funny. Well to the people with these problems it's not funny, it's hurtful. Shame on you and as I said, enough. And to make it clear, it's not one person doing this, it's many. There are several Facebook pages devoted to hurting others such as Grammarly. Oh by the way for all you perfect grammar folks, adding "ly" to a word doesn't make it a word. An attempt at humor? Not so much. Irony? I think not.

I have friends and family who have problems with the English language. It may be writing, it may be spelling, or it may be a combination of all of them. These people are some of the best people I know. They are the first to help out at church when called. They are the ones who take an elderly lady or gentleman to the grocery store or doctor's office. They help their neighbors who can't help themselves. They give when they don't have it to give. They are the types we speak of as "salt of the earth." You'll probably have to look that up to see what it means. Leave them alone. They are my friends and they are my family. You're stepping on the wrong toes.

I was fortunate during school and English came easy to me. In college I was exempted from English because I breezed through my English entrance exam. I was allowed to take Creative Writing for two semesters instead. I fell in love with not only the written word, but the spoken word.  I was the weak kid in school. The one who didn't participate in sports. And yes, I was the one who got picked on. At least until I decided it was time to fight back. I found something else I was good at, fighting. I didn't get picked on anymore and I decided to stand up for the other weak kids. I had forgotten that aspect from an earlier time in my life I had so hard tried to leave behind. I'm 61 years old now and would probably have a hard time going toe to toe with someone, but don't try me. I believe it was Edward G. Bulwer-Lytton who said, "Beneath the rule of men entirely great, the pen is mightier than the sword." When I can no longer, while standing on my feet, defend those who need it, I will defend them from this desk.

If you got your feelings hurt from reading this, good. If you want to take me off your social media lists, that's okay too. At least I'll know I reached you and you're the ones who needed to be reached. Hopefully you're not so shallow you don't realize how hurtful you're being to people. If they want help, I'm sure they'll ask. Otherwise, take a little walk in their shoes. Look deeper into this person and you might just find a few things you could learn from them.

I love you all, but please, think about what you post on social media sites.

"They'd Rather Tell A Lie Than Eat When They're Hungry"

"They'd rather tell a lie than eat when they're hungry." That's a line I remember hearing my mother say when I was young. I wonder if she was referring to trucking companies? I don't think she would have known many truckers back then but, who knows, if the shoe fits.....

It's beginning to seem that's the norm instead of an exception when it comes to trucking .

When my old Peterbilt finally gave up a couple of months ago I decided it was time to let someone else worry about the bills. I was tired of truck payments, repair bills, licensing, insurance, and even routine maintenance costs. I guess my number one complaint was the outrageous taxes our government throws at us. It was a comfortable life for Diane and I. We weren't getting rich by any means but we enjoyed our life. Once the truck was paid for and I settled in at Schneider I pretty much did what I wanted to do. I went where I wanted, when I wanted. I chose my own loads and didn't have to deal with dispatchers or company honchos unless I had a problem. I did what was expected of me and delivered their loads on time in a courteous, efficient manner. I liked my customers and they liked me. The last eight months I delivered to the same customers and was actually requested by one major company as their "emergency" driver for loads they were having a problem getting shipped.

I have worked at some great companies throughout the years. My first real job in this industry was with Westinghouse Electric when they ran their own trucks. I left a Police Department as a detective making $284.00 a week to driving for Westinghouse making between $700 and $1100 a week. I was rich! My co-workers from the traffic manager and dispatchers to the other drivers were all good people and we worked together as a team. They shut down all their trucks and I went back to police work as an undercover deputy. I worked at Standard Trucking as a cover and once again worked with excellent people. I also worked at G&P Trucking as a casual driver even after my undercover assignment was over. I stayed a total of 9 years with them. Another good group of people.

After leaving Law Enforcement after more than 23 years I went to Castleberry Foods where I stayed until they also decided it was more feasible to contract out their trucking operations to Penske Logistics after a company wide buy-out. I am still friends and in constant contact with the traffic manager, dispatcher, and some of the drivers from Castleberry.

Penske Logistics was where the first of the lying trucking companies came in. From the first day they attempted to get the Castleberry drivers to stay on with them they began making promises they knew they not only wouldn't, but couldn't, keep. The bad thing is most of us drivers knew from what they were saying that we were being lied to but we needed to keep food on the table at home and were hoping for the best. I guess the best lie was that we were going to be home every night and every weekend and would only be driving a max of a 300 mile radius. I even ask the question then were we going to be trading our sleeper trucks for day cabs since we wouldn't be needing a sleeper. I was told that we would be keeping sleeper trucks, "just in case we happened to get stuck out." My very first run for them was from Augusta, Ga to Amarillo, Texas. 1250 miles, one way. Some drivers didn't make it a month before leaving and some lasted a little longer. I made it six months. It seemed a lot longer and I told them I quit so many times that when I actually did give them my notice I had to show the terminal manager the contract where I had bought my own truck before he would believe me. I hated that company.

Now I have come full circle back to where I started from. I knew when I shut my truck down I would have an adjustment going to work for a company and being at their beck and call. I mentally prepared myself, realizing I was no longer going to be the boss. I looked for several weeks before finally settling on a company. I spoke with them on the phone before applying and believed I would find a new home with them. They were friendly and seemed to be up front while talking with me. I told them the job was advertised as a regional run and advised them I don't run the north or northeast. I was assured that as far as they went in that direction was Roanoke, Va. Okay, I can live with that. Was I being picky? You betcha! I believe I have a right to be. My record is perfect with no accidents or tickets and my CSA score is 0, which again is perfect. My inspection record with FMCSA is 100%, again, perfect. I'm 61 years old and it's time to slow down a little. I don't mind working but I don't want to run in the northeast and have to deal with the constant headaches.

I was told I'd be home one night during the week and every weekend with an occasional run to Texas. Again I can live with that. I think the good Lord was telling me not to take this job from the beginning. I went to Dublin, Ga where I met the office personnel. Keith, Kelly, Melinda, and Brad were all nice, personable people doing the best they could with what they had. I should have walked away when I learned the senior man on this contract had only been with the company for four months. That was the first sign something was terribly wrong. But I needed a job, now, so I stayed. I filled out a mountain of paperwork and then went for the DOT physical. Second clue was when during the physical I had to do a basic stress test and then had to lift heavy objects starting with a container with 10 lbs of weight in it and continuously adding weight to over 50 lbs. Oh well, the job will have some heavy lifting. I needed to get back in shape anyway. 12 years of sitting behind the wheel of a truck will get you out of shape. I realized that when I tried to put on a pair of shorts I hadn't worn in about 5 years and the waist was about 5 inches too small and wouldn't zip up. How do you women do it? The next clue was while working on an old project car in the yard I got metal in the pupil of my eye. After a trip to the VA emergency room I learned I wouldn't be starting on Monday after all since I had to return the next day to have the metal removed. I contacted Hogan and they were overly accommodating. After another 10 days I was ready to go to work. The doctor said my vision was good enough to return to driving and I called Hogan. They set me up with another driver to go on a training run and I finally got to see first hand why they couldn't keep drivers. The total run wasn't 400 miles over 2 days at .36 cents a mile and had about 10 stops. Some of the pallets we were taking off the trailer weighed 3000 lbs and had to be manually removed with a hand pallet jack. Okay, again I need to get into shape and this will help as long as someone will help me at some of the stops. Not going to be getting paid a lot but I need the work. Another clue before I left on this load was that it was a beautiful day and I decided to ride the bike. When I pulled in the gate the bike started clattering like crazy. Apparently something was coming apart on the top end as that was where the noise was coming from. When I got back in Diane and Tammy brought the pickup with the toy hauler attached so I could drag it back home. 8200 miles on the bike so it shouldn't be having problems.

When I returned this is what the trailer looked like. They had added 5 stops to the load and just threw the extra boxes anywhere they could fit them. This photo was taken after the first two pallets had already been removed. Even the receivers complained at every stop about the way the trailer had been loaded. Several even took their own pictures to send in letting them know how poorly the trailer had been loaded. What should have been a one and a half day trip turned into two and a half days. It was finally beginning to sink into my thick skull that maybe I had better start looking elsewhere. I got home and cooled down some. I decided to give the next load a try, maybe it would be better. Wrong again. It was loaded a little better but the places I was having to take a big truck were crazy. Small mom and pop convenience stores and markets, strip malls with no loading docks, it was the craziest thing I've ever done. The next morning I was called with the information they had finally set up my permanent route. I would be doing the North Carolina load on Monday and Tuesday and pick up Wednesday with my first delivery being in Lexington, Ky and ending up in Peoria, Illinois. Since when is this the southeast?When I stopped that night I got on the computer and started looking.

I put in an application  for a southeast regional run at Heartland Express and the first thing the next morning I was called by a recruiter. I explained what had been happening and he stated it wouldn't happen at Heartland and they had a preliminary approval done. He stated it usually took a couple of days to get everything completed and he was off on Monday, so it would be Tuesday before I would hear anything from them. I after a couple of more stops that pallets had to be broken down one box at a time and taken into a building I called Hogan and advised them I was quitting. I let them know that I would go ahead and do the Monday - Tuesday North Carolina run so as not to leave them in too big of a bind but what we were doing wasn't worth what we were making. As soon as I hung up from them I got a call back from Heartland saying that my record was perfect and they had finished with the background checks. I advised him again of the problem with Hogan, including not being a southeast run as promised and told him that under no circumstances did I do runs to the northeast. Virginia was my limit and if that would be a problem to let me know as I would keep looking. He told me that would be no problem as they had plenty of drop yards where the loads going there could be relayed to a driver who runs that region. I accepted the position and was able to free up from the Monday load with Hogan.

During orientation again I brought up my concerns with my dispatcher over the northeast runs and was again told it would be no problem. So far I like the company. The equipment is top notch and very well maintained. Each and every time you go through one of their terminals you are expected to go through an inspection lane and have your truck and trailer thoroughly gone over. Then you take it though a wash bay where it is washed. The pay is good although they need to go to practical miles instead of the old Household movers guide to get point to point miles. They ran me hard but legal and I don't mind that, especially if I'm getting paid well to do it. They ran me hard enough that I'm now in Virginia and out of hours until tomorrow morning.

They sent me my dispatch for tomorrow, Baltimore, Maryland. Uhmmm is that really in the southeast?

I will say they did take it off me when I called in about it. Now let's see how long they make me sit here to "teach me a lesson" about complaining about loads.

I'll keep you updated. As I said, "It's always an adventure."

"Effective immediately, no more traffic stops..."

"Effective immediately, no more traffic stops until further notice unless the driver is intoxicated, reckless driver, or driving at a high rate of speed." This was a July 23rd internal memo from Sheriff Adell Dobey of the Edgefield County Sheriff's Office to his road deputies. This memo was leaked to, and reported on, by WRDW, Channel 12 news in Augusta. According to the news report the Deputy who leaked the memo stated this policy was hindering his ability to do his job. When contacted by News 12 Sheriff Dobey appeared to somewhat walk back his memo by saying the Deputies have discretion as to whether to pull someone over for minor traffic offenses and the memo was taken out of context. There does not seem to be a whole lot of ways to take this. It's pretty clear and concise. Appears to be only one way to read it. NO TRAFFIC STOPS

What initially surprised me after reading the article and seeing the newscast was the overwhelming positive response to the policy by citizens. The general public's only negative contact with Law Enforcement is when they're stopped for a violation. They have no clue how valuable those seemingly "wasted time" stops are. By the way, a normal traffic stop takes approximately 4 minutes.

My real shock came when I read an editorial on EdgefieldDaily.com not only agreeing with the Sheriff on this policy but totally demeaning News12 for airing it. They then attempted to narrow down the possible "leaker" in the Department. I enjoy reading the Edgefield Daily and probably agree 99% of the time with what is written. The Editor is pro-law enforcement as can be read into his writing. I know everyone has their own opinion, but, I believe he really missed the boat on this one. Let's take a look at some of the editor's own more recent headlines:

July 28, 2014 "Two Traffic Stops Result In Five Drug Arrests"
July 19, 2014 "Traffic Stop Leads To Drug Bust"
July 8, 2014   "Ambulance Driver Arrested On Outstanding Warrant" (After being stopped for a traffic violation)
July 1, 2014   ""Habitual Offender" Facing Multiple Charges" (After being stopped for speeding)

These are only headlines from July. If you keep going back you'll find many, many more articles where a simple traffic stop leads to major arrests. One of the statements in the editorial reads, "His concern is focused on reducing property crimes, burglaries, thefts, and drug problems more than worrying about if your tag light is out." How many crimes have been solved or even averted because of a stop for a tail light being out. When the deputy can't see the tag does he know if the tag light is burned out? Or is it removed? Any good officer will look at the circumstances, time, location and a lot of other factors and make a stop based on that. The officer doesn't know if that light is burned out or has been removed to keep the tag from being read during a home invasion, armed robbery, or drug deal.

Let's take a look at a few cases over the years.

I know a lot of people are too young to remember David Richard Berkowitz or the "Son of Sam" as he, and the media, billed him during his murderous crime spree in New York in the mid seventies. He is serving six consecutive life sentences. It is known he killed six people and wounded seven others. How was he caught? A simple traffic violation, in fact, the simplest of violations, a parking ticket.

How about Ted Bundy? Remember him? He confessed to 30 murders but the total is believed to be much higher. He decapitated at least 12 of his victims and kept their heads in his apartment for a time as trophies. Even his own lawyer, Polly Nelson, described him as, "...the very definition of heartless evil." He was caught by a Utah State Trooper who pulled him over on a simple traffic violation. He was alert and noticed several inconsistencies in Bundy's vehicle contents and explanations. During his trial for murder he escaped and was caught in a stolen vehicle after, again, committing a simple traffic violation.

Timothy McVeigh is a name that should still be fairly fresh in the minds of every American. April 19th, 1995 a massive bomb exploded in front of the Alfred P Murrah Federal Building in downtown Oklahoma City killing 168 people and injuring more than 680 more. The blast damaged or destroyed 324 buildings within a 16 block radius and burned or destroyed 86 vehicles. An alert Oklahoma State Trooper by the name of Charlie Hanger stopped a vehicle on a simple traffic violation, no license plate, and arrested McVeigh who was in possession of an unlawful pistol. Further investigation proved that McVeigh had orchestrated the bombing. Oh yeah this happened within only 90 minutes of the bombing.

I, personally, have made arrests for narcotics trafficking, burglaries, armed robberies and even murders off simple traffic stop investigations. Two particular ones come to mind immediately.

When you're newly assigned as a detective or investigator with a department you don't have a lot to do until you start answering calls and building your own cases. So to pass the time you start looking into cold cases and current cases that haven't gone anywhere and need a fresh set of eyes. I was given one such case as a new Detective with the Greenwood Police Department. It was not what most people would consider a major crime spree. There were no dead bodies or shoot outs, just dozens of coin operated machines being broken into over several months. There were thousands of dollars in stolen money, products, and damages done and no suspects. I was speaking with another detective about the case and told him that if I could just find a set of bolt cutters that matched the marks on the cut locks I would have my man. He told me that a traffic unit had stopped a car for a traffic violation and saw what he believed to be bolt cutters in the vehicle. A reasonable explanation was given and he didn't pursue it. I contacted the owner of the car and was given a consent to search. I found the bolt cutters under the driver's seat and marks on them appeared to match the marks on the cut locks. On questioning he stated that the night the car was stopped he had loaned it out and gave me the names of several people who would have been in the car. I knew one name and picked him up. On questioning he gave several other people up. At the conclusion 6 people were arrested, including the car owner, on nearly 75 charges. All because of a simple traffic stop.

One night in Aiken County while working narcotics I noticed a vehicle illegally parked. The first thought I had was that they were using drugs in that particular area. I turned around as they pulled off. They became nervous and turned without giving a signal. Probable cause for a stop. The driver was a woman who stated they had stopped there because her male companion had walked into a field to urinate. While attempting to interview him, he could not remember the same SSN or birth date he had given me. I called in the stop and asked dispatch to check several variations of the social security and birth date along with the name. After awhile I was contacted by the Chief Investigator and asked for a description of the man. Once I gave it I was told to use caution and bring him in. After confronting him with his real name, SSN and birth date he "fessed up." He had outstanding warrants for two murders in California. Again, a simple traffic stop.

Over the years I made hundreds of narcotics cases, closed investigations, recovered stolen property and arrested wanted persons and all because of simple traffic violations. Thousands of these cases are made from traffic cases throughout the country daily.

I know this article is tilted toward the help traffic stops are for investigations into crimes but it wasn't too long ago the EdgefieldDaily was reporting on the great job all agencies, including the Sheriff's Office, were doing in having a zero fatality rate in the county. Part of the reason for this is the knowledge that if people disobey the traffic laws there will be consequences. Let's keep the outstanding record Edgefield has in traffic enforcement and keep our roads and neighborhoods safe. Don't let people think there will be no ramifications for disobeying the laws or they will take advantage.

Sheriff Dobey and I have disagreed on things before and this is no different. I do not, and have not, worked for him. It is his department and I respect him and his position. Please let's not go backwards at this point.

Breaker One-Nine. Anybody Got A Copy?

Okay, let's have a show of hands. How many people remember CB radios? I can hear the young folks now, "CB what? Is that like an Ipod?" I was taking a picture of the inside of my truck a little while ago and I don't know what drew me to it but I just sat for a minute staring at this outdated piece of equipment sitting on my dash. The only time I even turn it on anymore is if I come up on stopped traffic on the highway and that's only long enough to find out what is going on, accident, construction, etc. Too much trash talk. Too much cursing and way too many "radio Rambos." In case you haven't been on one in a while there are a lot of people on there than are gonna whup everyone on the radio. As long as they're hidden behind that mike they are really bad. Don't even let a woman come on the radio. The abuse starts as soon as a female voice hits the airwaves. I shut mine off shortly after Diane started riding with me. We had fun with it at first and she can pretty well handle herself, but it did make me want to go Rambo on a few heads. It didn't take long to figure the best way to keep my blood pressure to an acceptable level was to turn the knob all the way to the left and leave it there.

CB, or citizen band, radios made their first appearance in the mid 40's for small business and family communications as well as radio controlled airplanes. They really started taking off though in the early 70's after the Arab oil embargo. Gas and diesel prices skyrocketed. In January 1974 President Nixon signed a bill lowering the speed limits nationwide to 55 mph. Both the increase in fuel prices and the lowering of speed limits impacted truckers hard. First it was with the higher cost at the pumps for their fuel, second their trucks started getting worse fuel mileage because they were geared for the higher speeds and third they mostly worked off mileage pay. At $1.00 per mile and an average of 70 mph that was $70.00 an hour they were making. At the same rate and 55 mph they were now making $55.00 per hour and more of that was going into the fuel tanks so they were taking a huge hit. Bring in the CB radio. Now truckers could keep up their old speeds and know where the cops were all the time and they also spread the word by radio of where the cheapest fuel stops were, a win-win. Anybody who had a CB back then knew as soon as a patrol car hit the highway, "Kojak with a Kodak getting on 95 northbound, 26 mile marker." "Ten-four. You're looking good back to the line. We ain't seen nothin'. Scales are open northbound checkin' log books so get 'er right." "Appreciate it, see you on the flip side. This is Night Rider northbound and down." It wasn't long before you had trucker shows coming on tv like Movin' On and then songs like Convoy, Teddy Bear, and then the movie Convoy and Smokey and the Bandit. These all glorified the CB and before long two out of every three cars on the road had a CB antenna hanging on it somewhere. I was one of the first and always regretted not buying stock in Radio Shack. Their stock prices went through the roof as they were one of the largest retailers of the radios.

We had a ball with CB's back then. I was stationed at Camp Lejuene, NC and my wife, at the time, and I would head back home to Augusta, Ga whenever we could. It was a 335 mile trip one way. I kept it reasonable until I hit I-95 and then 'Let 'er roll.' My older brother drove a truck and I saw what the drivers were doing with the radios and just had to have one. I'll never forget I actually financed a freakin' CB radio and antenna, $25 down and about $23 a month for a year but I had to have it. I also bought a second antenna and a removable bracket so I could take it out of the car to keep it from getting stolen. I mounted the second antenna to the roof of the house and made a box with a second bracket so I could switch it from the car to the house. I was scared to talk on it and just listened for the longest time. After awhile a Marine friend came to the house to look at the set up I had and gave me the handle of "Medicine Man" since I was a Corpsman in the Navy. Shortly after that I was recruited to the Onslow County REACT (Radio Emergency Associated Communication Team). We would monitor the radio in shifts and listen for emergency calls from citizens via the radio on channel 9 which had been, and is still, designated as an emergency only channel. Occasionally I would get called out if I was closer than an emergency crew to accidents or other medical emergencies. It was interesting and reinforced my interest in Law Enforcement as I watched what those guys did.

The Medicine Man handle didn't stick long as people seemed to think it was code for me selling drugs. I went through a couple of different names until my brother made the comment on day that I was a lost cause. I adopted that handle and it's been with me until this day.

Everybody in the family got into the CB craze and went out and bought them including my Dad. He used to be in the Army Air Corps and would get on the radio with all the roger-wilko, over and outs and no matter what we would tell him about the way these radios were he couldn't get used to it. I guess some habits do die hard.

My younger brother decided to one-up everybody and he went out and bought one of the most expensive radios on the market along with a top of the line desk top microphone and put a linear in the attic. CB radios were limited to 5 watts of power to keep them from interfering with other electronics, especially TVs and radios. A linear was extra power output for CBs and was a definite no-no. I don't know how much power this thing was pushing but when he would hit the switch and turn it on, he'd key the mic and every tv and radio within a mile would go black. He would get on there and just mess with people. If they wouldn't give him a break (free the channel) he would hit the switch on the linear and key the mic telling everyone if he couldn't talk, nobody would. And he was right. Nobody within 20 miles or more could talk to anyone else. I know we all had our fun with the radios but I guess he did more than anyone. He would get on there talking like a woman and have men for miles around going crazy and wanting to talk to him...er, her. They were all trying to find where (s)he lived. He wouldn't get quite X-rated, but he came real close. He'd have them panting. One day he was riding in the truck with the other brother and got to talking like that to other truckers and Paul told him that if he kept on they would eventually find him and as hot and bothered as he had them drivers somebody was gettin' f***** and Paul said it sure wasn't going to be him and he was going to hand him over. Whatever happened, happened.

I kept a radio for years and even kept one in my cars when I was in police work. Other officers and I could talk back and forth without getting on the main radio and that came in handy. Unless you grabbed the wrong mic and started telling what was on your mind as I did one night while working narcotics and trying to serve several warrants on a suspect who kept eluding us. I only realized what I was doing while hearing cries of, "Wrong radio, wrong radio" coming from my CB and knowing it couldn't be talking while I was. Oh well, water under the bridge. I'm turning red just sitting here thinking about it while I write. I guess it's time to go.

"Breaker one-nine. Time to go 10-7 for the night and shut 'er down. Keep the shiny side up and the greasy side down and we'll catch you on the flip-flop. Lost Cause down for the night, ten four?"