I told the Uber driver I was headed to DFW, and he asked me what airline.
“American,” I said. “God help me.”
“I got a million miles on those guys,” he said.
“Me too.”
“And another million on United,” he said.
“I got you beat there. Two and a half million for me, last I checked. And maybe another million on Delta.”
My driver, whose name was Peter, nodded slowly. I could tell from the back of his head that he could feel my pain.
“That was another life,” he said. “But I’m done with all that. I don’t travel anymore.”
“Well Peter, I hate to break it to you but you’re driving me to the airport. And according to your odometer, you’re still racking up the miles.”
Peter chuckled and glanced in the rearview mirror, but I was on the passenger side, and mostly out of site.
“You sound like Mike Rowe,” he said. “Anybody ever tell you that?”
“Only when I say something incredibly clever.”
Peter chuckled. “Yeah, that guy was a real smart aleck. I used to watch him on The Discovery Channel 20 years ago. He did some crazy crap.”
I asked Peter would he did in his other life – the one that kept him up in the air so often.
“I was a tech guy, he said. “Worked for Sun Microsystems and a bunch of other big companies. I also write books.”
What kind of books?
“I wrote a ‘How To’ book ten years ago,” he said.
“How to what,” I asked.
“How to Organize Your Photos in 7 Easy Steps. The First in a Series About Personal Information Management by The PIM Coach, Peter Gailey.”
“Who couldn’t use a “PIM Coach,” I asked? “Did you sell any?”
“As a matter of fact, I did. Published it myself, and it went to #1 on Kindle.”
“That’s great!” I said. “Congratulations.”
I told Peter about my mother’s 60-year writing journey, and the thrill of becoming a best-seller at the tender age of eighty.
“Good for her,” said Peter. “Publishing is a tough business.”
“It’s a knife fight in a phone booth,” I said. “Are you working on anything now?”
“Well, believe it or not, I’m working on a book about the characters who wind up in the back of my car.” Peter grabbed a thick notepad on his dashboard and held it up. It was filled with scribbling.
“I always keep this handy, he said. You wouldn’t believe the people I meet, driving for Uber and Lyft. I got a thousand stories.”
“That’s funny,” I said. “I’m writing a book about the Uber and Lyft drivers who have driven me to the airport.”
Peter cocked his head, and I could tell from the lines on the back of neck that he was wondering if was yanking his chain.
“I’m serious,” I said. “In fact, you can read the first chapter after you drop me off. Just google, ‘A Pretty Good Lyft.’ https://bit.ly/4ni3WKh It’s the true story about the guy who drove me to Will Rogers Airport a couple years ago. Talk about a character.”
“You really do sound like Mike Rowe,” he said. “You should get into voiceovers.”
“I’ll take it under advisement,” I said. “Maybe, if I ever finish my book, I should do the audio version myself?”
“You definitely should,” he said. “You got the pipes.”
As we pulled up to the curb, I thanked him for the ride, and the conversation.
“What are you gonna call your new book,” I asked.
“I was thinking about ‘Life is a Trip,’” he said.
“Not bad,” I said. “Think I’ll make the cut? Maybe a short story about a fellow road warrior who sounds like Mike Rowe with a mother who just happens to be a selling author?”
“Possibly,” he said. “You were fun to talk to.”
“What if I can get Mike Rowe to narrate it for you? Would that seal the deal?”
This time, Peter adjusted the rearview mirror and stared at the guy who used to do some crazy crap on the Discovery Channel.
“Son of a bitch,” he said.
We shook hands, wished each other a pleasant life, and promised to read each other’s next book – assuming either of us ever finishes. And with that, ‘The Original PIM Coach’ went in search of more content, as I entered the familiar environs of Terminal A, to further solidified my status as a glutton for punishment, somewhere in the friendly skies…