My Next Career...

After much thought, deep pondering, and a bit too much pepperoni I have decided on a post-ministerial career. (Note: I don't plan on having a post-ministerial career. But should I be wrong, I've got my next gig lined up.) I am going to be ... (drum roll) ...

AN ICE ROAD TRUCKER!

Yes, indeedy. I will never trade in my bible for a trucker repair manual but I will set it beside me on the big seat. And then I will creep northward in my growling rig, edging my way toward the hinterlands and the frozen tundra. (This is going to be so cool.) By then I want to look like that guy they call "Polar Bear." This will be a challenge because I absolutely cannot grow hair anyplace but on my head. And that is getting more questionable by the year. Okay, by the month. Week? Geez. Alright. By the day, darn it.

Just last night I woke up thinking I was listening to the creaking of the ice under the weight of my massive rig. Then I realized it was my spine. (We are sleeping on an air mattress this week. My back is reliving November, 2007 - February, 2008.) Still, it SOUNDED like cracking ice and that's what counts.

Ice road truckers don't have meetings. They don't have to ever wear a suit. Tie's are unheard of. They get to whip around big chains and use neat stuff like ratchets and winches. It's just them, the rubber, the ice. And, of course, the stray shark ten feet under them hoping for a mid-winter snack.

Did I mention that I don't swim? I mean, not even in the summer. I just don't. So I plan on staying on TOP of the ice.

I'm hoping that Kevin Costner will play me in the Hollywood production they are destined to make about me. Buy popcorn. I might get a cut of the proceeds.

(P.S. My next post will be about something deep and meaningful. But it's gotta be "in ya." And tonight I just want to cruise the polar ice shelf. Does it help if I say, "Jesus is my co-pilot?" I didn't think so.)