Winter Signup Beckons...

Lovely Portland architecture fills my scans every day.

Deke's Note: I don't know if my "15 minutes" has passed, but fewer people are reading these posts. Should I just quit? It just seems fruitless sometimes. Oh well, if this is my last post, I'll still have fun with it. To do otherwise would run against "Deke's Rules." 

Artists simply want exposure. If the "masses" aren't relating, the artist's temptation is to say, "Fuck it. I'm out."

This artist is too stubborn to quit. However, I've started writing a new book under my real name. Deke is getting old. Although I've sold books and been read around the world, this gig is getting old. If fewer numbers are reading what I write under the pseudonym, it's time to shed the shroud and head into different directions. A year ago, I had the best numbers as a blogger, with over 15,000 hits in a month. Today, I'm averaging about 2,500 per month. It's okay, I get it. There's a bit of global Deke exhaustion. That's why most of my recent posts have pointed to the positive in this job. Tired of this bus driver's roll? It's okay. Thanks for reading so long!

There are bills to pay, so I drive a bus. It's a good job, pays well for someone my age (approaching 60 quicker than the average motorists flips us off just for doing the job), and keeps me out of trouble 5/7 days a week. Do I want to work my day off? Hell no. If I did, there would be no time to write to you, my dwindling but dedicated few. Without you, I wouldn't have been read across this blue globe in the middle of infinity, and I thank you so very much. I'd rather write to you than work another 8-10.

I'll be returning to a route that is tough but full of hard-working people who make up this confused rain forest we call home. It also keeps me away from the madness that has become "downtown." After about six months, it drives me away.

A rare Deke selfie.

Once upon a distant time, I coached youth basketball. I truly enjoyed this pastime. My sons were on the teams I coached. Those who ran the courts with them are forever etched into the loving stitches of my soul's fabric. My new and recurring route rebounds me into contact with the kids who once bounced their tough balls on hoop courts. They are part of my soul, these boys now become men, and the others they ride with seem to "get" where I come from. Life is but a series of bounces, and while some fall into the hoop, I'm lucky to catch one of them off the rim in the form of friendship.

I look forward to seeing Little Bear, one of the toughest kids I had the great opportunity to coach. He works out at a gym on this route. If he ever rides this signup's route, he gets a free day pass. Too bad, management... the fare cops will never bust this great young fellow for lack of fare, because he's one tough guy I admire. Bus drivers need to have a bit of generosity, and I give it freely to those who deserve it. LB is one for sure.

I hope to be reunited with another high school kid who I have driven since he rode with his dad as a tyke. Brett, if you read this be assured I look forward to seeing you this winter. Then there's Aiden, the transit genius who knows more than most drivers about our transit system, its vehicles and routes. I'm in awe of his knowledge... it puts me to shame. You know what? He's only 15 years old! If I knew as much as he does, I'd feel qualified to run this agency.

My new run will also give me a chance to roll with my family again. Shhh. Whether they're eligible for free fares, my "family" is large, extending far and wide. Mention my elder son's nickname, you get a free day pass. Screw the rules. Money gets tighter as years roll past. Youth is full of hard times not likely rewarded by the powers that be. If you're a stranger to me yet treat me with kindness and respect, I'll reward you tenfold with generosity. The poor and downtrodden are under attack from those on high, and it pisses me off. Just be honest, I'll let you ride. If you tell me you don't have the money for fare and don't lay some long bullshit story on me or walk past as if "entitled," you can safely enjoy my patented roll. If you cause a ruckus, we'll have a problem. If not, I'll treat you to a smooth and easy ride.

Which book here interests you?

WhichLife's too short to worry about the General Manager's cushy retirement package... you can ride free with me. If you give me or my other passengers a hard time, you'll be walking soon enough. If you assault me, I'll kick your fucking ass and worry about our pansy-assed/out-of-touch-with-transit-reality management later. Throw a punch at me and you'll go to jail after the hospital sets your broken nose or whatever else I'm able to damage before the cops and ambulance arrive. If management suspends or fires me, it makes for a lively lawsuit. Hey, I'm just driving a bus. I don't have time to care about your drama. My job is to safely drive a bus. Just sit down, shut up and enjoy my roll. Is it really worth your time to interrupt mine?

There's life as a seasoned bus operator. I look forward to my new route. Thanks for reading. You're a blessing to me, even though your numbers are few. Peace be with you all.