Fare evasion

Shannon, Jeff and I were just walking out of Milagros tonight when we heard the train sounding its horn.

"There's your train," says Jeff.

"It can't be," I said. "It's early."

I immediately got into a sprint for the train. There was no way I was gonna wait another hour for the next train. Or foot the bill for a $30 taxi tonight. I kept sprinting and amazingly the train doors were still open when I got there, but there was no time to buy a ticket. I got on the train anyway. Afterall, the train was early. Surely they'd understand.

The train waited another minute, then started moving south. All of a sudden, it stopped. I heard a Caltrain employee announce over the intercom that something had been hit and they need to check the train and the tracks. After 2-3 minutes, we started moving again. Apparently we only hit a garbage can.

At that point, I felt obligated to find a train employee to tell him about boarding without a ticket. Afterall, in the past I had made an error when buying a ticket and the train attendant told me that if I ever had a ticket problem again, I was to immediately contact the conductor when getting on the train or else I would be subject to citation.

So soon enough, I fould train conductor Kitty Swanson.

"Excuse me," I said, as Ms. Swanson looked out the window. Then she looked up.

"I didn't have enough time to buy a ticket so I go on the train without one," I said. "The train was early."

"Do you know how many times a day I hear that?," says Ms. Swanson.

"The train was early," I said.

"Do you know that's it's illegal to board a train without a valid ticket?," asked Ms. Swanson.

"The train was early. I didn't have enough time to buy a ticket. That's what I'm trying to tell you."

"Sir, you need to work on your time management skills. You need to get to station a little more early," said Ms. Swanson.

"But the train was early, you can't expect me to plan for that." I said.

Ms. Swanson then got on her radio to the train engineer. "What time did we leave Redwood?," she asked.

"8:52," said the engineer.

"What did you expect him to say?," I said.

"Sir, he left on schedule. Besides, the engineer would get fined $1500 for leaving early."

Ms Swanson proceded to ask for my ID and started writing me a citation. We pull into Menlo Park and I could see from my trusty Verizon cell phone that were still early. Then we pulled away.

"I see we are still a minute early," I said. "Even after waiting 2-3 minutes to clear the garbage can in Redwood City."

Ms. Sawanson said nothing. I now had no doubt we left Redwood City early.

I banter back and fourth with Ms. Swanson. Finally she requested my signature on a citation for fare evasion. I signed it, which means I promise to appear in court on March 28.

Should be fun.

Not "Big Bush"

I was innocently driving home from work today on U.S. Route 101 and what do I see in front of me? This...











I kid you not. This thing was crusing north at about 40 mph. Complete with Wisconsin license plate "BIG BUN".

The dude next door

The guy who lives next door to me is no regular guy next door. He's lived there for more than two years and I still can't figure him out.

This dude is mid-50s. He claims to have a pad at Sea Ranch. And yet he rents this piece-o-crap studio next door to me. He doesn't appear to have a job of any sort, and he comes and goes at random. When he is there he doesn't seem to leave his place much, and when I do see him he seems to be in a cloudy haze.

But there's something even more odd about him. Every so often I see him leave a small white envelope out on the table on his porch. And without fail, that small envelope vanishes in just minutes. Well, I saw an envelope on the table again today, so I picked it up and looked at it. It was unsealed so I opened it. Sure enough, it was stuffed with cash. I saw a few 20s, but I didn't examine all the bills. I just put it back on the table. And just as I predicted, a few minutes later it was gone.

9 Minute Lube

Today I stopped by my local 9 Minute Lube to get... well... a 9-minute lube.

I pulled up to the pit and the crew went to work on my truck like I was in the Indy 500. In just a couple of minutes I had the air in my tires checked, my coolant topped-off, the wiper fluid filled, the oil changed and a new oil filter installed.

When the attendant approached me for payment, he noticed the ski rack on my truck. I prepared myself for a sales pitch.

Pointing to the ski rack, the attendant said, "You know, when you are up in the cold, sometimes your wiper fluid can freeze."

"Uh huh," I said.

"You can prevent that by adding a little alcohol to the wiper fluid," he said. "Or, if you are a drinker, don't drink the whole bottle. You can pour a couple of shots into the tank and it'll work like anti-freeze."

Or maybe if I'm ever in need of a cocktail I'll drink my wiper fluid.