Maximo

I drove for a little while, as my employment of choice, a cargo extension van delivering pharmacy meds and supplies to various locations in MN and WI.  That sounds nice enough, doesn’t it?  Except for the assorted scary looney I’d run into on some of my delivery stops and the utterly horrible piece-of-shit, take-your-life-into-your-hands vans they provided, I liked that job.  I liked to drive.  But my first night should have given me a head’s up as to what this company was like to drive for.

“And here’s who you’ll be riding with…”

He stood there with his dirty clothes and bomber jacket with a ratty black beret stuffed onto his hair. “Uh, yeah. I’m Maxi-MO.” he mumbled. I think his real name was Fred.

“Oh, crap.”  I thought.

After getting in the van, he cranked up his political talk show and we shot up Bass Lake Road (30mph) at 50mph.

“Eeek!” Thinks I.

Onto 169 we blew, headed for Minnetonka. He floors the van, rips over into the right-hand exit lane, floors it again and whips back over to the left to pass another car, cutting him off in the process and narrowly misses the median dividing the exit ramp from the highway.

“Eeek, shit!” Thinks I, reaching up to pat my hair back down on my head.

He said something regarding the political talk noise he had blaring and I began to suspect I was not going to be in for a fun evening.

After fiddling with the radio tuner, he helpfully informs me that “Oh, the Indian (East Indian) music show is on.” and cranked it up.  Wayy up.

Oh goody.

“AIEEEEEEEEE-EEEEE-EEEEEE HARIIIEEEEEE KRISHNAAAA (twang twang),” the radio shrieked. I looked out the window at the side mirror and startled myself with the look of absolute horror plastered on my face.

“AIEEEE-IIIIIIIII-KRRRIISSSSHHHHNAAAAA”, I bit my lip to hold back the hysterical laughter of a trapped hyena.

Along the way, I noticed that he had a habit of flooring and coming off the gas about every 5 seconds or so. My neck was getting stiff from being thrown backwards. This was to go on ALL NIGHT.

“It’s not like trying to tune a piano.” he says.

“Oh my God!” I think to myself between the AEEEEIIIIII’s.

I was treated later to some intriguing philosophy.

“I’ve, you know, like, you know, wondered…if maybe the glass being half full or half empty maybe depends on what you’re going to do with the glass. Then again, why does the glass need to be going somewhere to justify it’s existence?”

I looked at the mirror again and saw the panic reflected there. I sat on my hands to avoid clawing desperately at the glass.

We weaved all over the road coming back from Buffalo and he informed me that he got pulled over on that stretch, “because I worked 2 shifts and was really tired.”

He drove around a few times oblivious to the fact that the turn signal was on.

He’d stop 2 blocks away from the red light.

He saw some tractors for sale, informed me that “his friend wanted one” and drove right up onto the grass over the CURB to get a good look at the phone number.

I wanted to crawl out of the van and crawl under it but I didn’t dare because this crazy person would probably drive right over me.

I was also FREAKED OUT. I didn’t want to die on some stretch of winding highway with this unnerving, erratic lunatic.

Maximo sent me into the last stop by myself (never mind that it would be nice to take the trainee in and show her where to go) and sat on his ass in the van. I don’t know what the hell he was doing then. It did cross my mind perhaps that he was on something…or just crazy. He handed me the wrong bag of narcotics to take in one place…I looked at the address on the bag and told him that wasn’t the right address.

After an excitement-filled, surreal evening I wept tears of joy upon returning safely to the medical base, wondering if my new employers were secret sadists. Fortunately, Travels With Maximo were short-lived and I was able to not have to continue with him, procuring a different route that took me out-of-state.