Stories: Slugging, the Cool Rides

After about 16 years of constant slugging, there are a few really cool rides that stand out.  Here are the ones that come to mind:

A friend and I were in the same AF unit and often slugged together.  He was a devout Christian and had a Bible study folder, which had special meaning to him.  One ride he ended up leaving it in the car.  The next day as we walked out to get a ride he told me that he would be waiting until the car that we had been in yesterday came by again; his Bible and study notes meant that much to him.  I was impressed with his dedication, but a bit less confident in his chance of success, after all, hundreds of cars used that slug pick-up lane and all we had for a description was that we had ridden in a dark green sedan.  God rewarded his faith, for my friend waited less than a minute when the car rolled up and the lady handed him his prized folder.

Back the day before an election some time ago I rode in a nice car, not quite a limo but spotlessly clean driven by a man for who English was not a first language.  We talked very little, but eventually I asked him about the official looking card in the windshield that had the words "Republic of the Congo Car 1" printed on it.  Turned out that the President of that country was coming for a visit and that he would be riding in that car.  The driver asked me a single question in return "Are you going to vote?"  I answered yes, that I almost always voted.  Looking at him, I saw some emotions cross his face that I could not define, but I imagine that given the conditions at the time in the Congo that he had not yet come to grips with how it was in the US, where people may vote freely, without having their vote forced upon them as dictators around the globe have done for decades.

Rode with a guy who had a flat on the slug lanes.  We pulled over, and the driver got out to change the tire.  I hopped out and started loosening the spare.  The other slug hopped out and helped with taking off the tire, and after I rolled the spare to the front with getting it on while I stowed the old one.  When we had completed the tire change we were on our way, with a laugh as we talked about joining NASCAR since we already had experience in team-changing a tire.  We were pretty fast changing that tire.  Nice to see what a small group of strangers can do when they decide to work together on a common goal.

More election eve stories:  On two consecutive election eves I rode with slugs who had spent quite some time in the White house, serving several Presidents.  One had been there with Reagan, and could not say enough about the how classy and nice the Reagan's were to him and the rest of the "little people" on their staff.  He told us about one Christmas party when the President made an appearance, which he indicated not all did.  At the time, the gentleman's son was a very young boy, and was enjoying the party with Dad and Mom.  The President saw them, went over to talk and ended up carrying the little guy around the party, much to the amusement of all guests there.  This same slug noted that his least favorite couple in the White House were the Clintons, who treated everyone on the staff as being beneath them.  The second "Insider Reports" also had enjoyed his time with the Reagan's, but told how snobby the Clinton's were.  There had been a disagreement on how one of the staff, who this slug oversaw, had done his job.  Clinton apparently loudly and obnoxiously demanded that the man be fired, which the slug said he refused to do since the staff member had carried out his duties properly despite what the President thought.  Eventually the argument became fairly loud, and the slug told Clinton to fire the man himself, but that the slug would not do so.  Another insight into the Clinton's personality was when they first arrived and Chelsea told a Secret Service agent to carry her bags in.  The agent told her that was not his job, that he was there to protect her.  She decided to push the matter and demanded that he comply.  He told her that he would protect her but would not carry her bags, and the spoiled brat finally backed off.  Not to strangely, I have heard a similar story about Hillary disrespecting a Military Officer during those years.

The limo.  The limo is driven by a professional.  I have been privileged to ride in those fine Lincolns several times over the years, and I think it is always with the same chauffeur.  He is always impeccably dressed as a chauffeur, and his limo is always clean.  The chauffeur does not allow passengers in the front seat.  He does not play music, and does not talk or get distracted in any other way.  There are mints in a little tray, a compliment to the thick plush seats that enfold us.  He does not advertise, except by his professionalism and pride.  He drives no more than the limit, and he does not drive hurriedly but rather smoothly, always a step ahead of any disruption on the road in terms of avoiding an uncomfortable response in the car.  He seems to be able to sense any other driver driving stupid which sadly is a near daily event on the roads we travel here, and keeps us out of the way.  His vehicle is a place of comfort, a place for feeling at ease, knowing that the man behind the wheel is a true professional and probably the most capable driver around. 

People who know someone you know.  A couple of years after I retired I was slugging home talking with the two people in front.  They were not in the Service but knew several people who were, and had moved to our area not that long before.  They had lived near a major heavy lifter base several years before and had known some of the aircrews.  On the off chance that we would both know the same person I threw out the few names of people I had worked with in that community and sure enough, they knew a guy who had been in the same organization I was for my last assignment.  A low order chance in a big world, but it sure was fun.  Not long ago heading to work I had the pleasure of meeting a guy who had worked for one of my best friends, MG (Ret.) Chris Anzalone.  We started off talking about some talentless music star's antics that were being reported, and somehow moved on to our Air Force careers.  Of course when he mentioned that he had been at an EF-111 Raven base I had to mention that my first assignment was helping to bring the Raven through the final stages of T&E (Test and Evaluation) and soon he was responding that yes he knew Chris and that like me he thought of him as a top-notch kind of person and had had the privilege of working for him.  Small world in some ways.

The guy from the Philippines.  I have written about my Dad's time in the Philippines.  One day riding home the driver was up for some chit chat and eventually mentioned he was from there.  I mentioned that my Dad had been there during the war, and he responded that his Uncle had been in the Philippine Army at the time, and like my Dad had been a POW.  They probably never met, but to have met someone whose family fought in the same battles that my Dad did was somehow cool.

The teacher from Africa.  This gentleman's first language is not English, but he speaks our language better than many who were born and raised here.  He was born in Africa, in a country that for many years saw much of the horrible war that we hear about if you can dig deep enough into the stories that captivate our so called news sources.  You know, the important stories about some two-bit "celebrity" who has no talent other than showing skin or spouting uninformed political opinions that are so much more important than those about the war being fought using child soldiers for control of natural resources to make the winner rich while many of the people will still live in conditions that are poor beyond what most of us can imagine.  When I was privileged to meet him he was a teacher in one of the schools in Washington, coming home from work after a long day.  He was tired, already recharging himself for the next school day knowing that it would certainly drain him again.  According to the teacher the stories you hear about how bad the DC school system is are true.  They often fail to teach their students anything useful for making a decent living, and no it is not that they are underfunded (they spend more than almost any state in the country per student) but rather because they are not being run right, because the money is spent on the wrong things.  So every day this teacher has to go in and do battle with the school administrators to make common sense decisions to help teach the kids.  He also has to battle many parents who have become speed bumps to progress for their kids, since they no longer understand the value of their kids really learning, instead thinking that somehow only the grades are important, not that their little darlings actually knowing what was taught is important, and so they argue for their kids' grades instead of having their kids earn the grades.  Just getting to his car from work is sometimes dangerous because of the gangs that often roam unchecked while we dither about their civil rights.  And so an entire city of failure is kept in existence.  Anyhow, the teacher is passionate about his work, and very "pro-American values" of hard work and patriotism.  This might be because of what it was like for him before he came here.  As a child, he was raised by his mother, because his dad was taken to fight in the war and never came back.  His mother is a strong, wise woman who insisted that her children study hard so they could make something of themselves.  Even though they had to move several times to avoid the war, moving on foot carrying what they could, she insisted that they learn, that they improve themselves.  He recalls crossing newly-fought on battlefields, some where the dead were so numerous in places that he could have stepped on the dead without having to touch the ground.  He recalls times when they found shelter and feared to move because of nearby gunfire, or because the enemy might have been near.  Eventually, they found a better place to live, and his mom sent the kids back to school, and later he was able to immigrate to the US.  He does not have much respect for anyone who does not push their kids to get a good education, to work hard for what they get, to improve themselves.  He remains my most impressive slug driver.