Driving in Momma Fargo's old stomping grounds last night, forgot I was in a 24' box truck instead of a one ton van while going under the bridge on McKinley. Not a pretty outcome.
What I didn't do was call the po po. Instead, hauled my scofflaw ass down the road.
Were Momma Fargo still on the job (this happened on her old shift), she probably would have tracked me like a bloodhound and issued an impressive good citizen award.
Think I used up all my brownie points with the boss and owners. Since they didn't immediately fire me, there is hope.
Oh well, bad decisions lead to good stories. There is a reason my blog is titled WSF!
