Story by Jon Stalnaker AKA The Studebaker Dude
I told myself long ago that I can write 700 words about just about anything. I have successfully proven that many times and it’s time for me to try it again.
I have an old broom that I keep in my garage. It’s nothing most people would consider special, but it’s special to me. It was a Walmart bargain broom that was purchased in bulk and destroyed by me (accidentally of course), then saved from the dumpster.
A simple premise, hardly worth more than a sentence, yet it has been in my cherished possession for about 11 years. A prime example of the twisted mind of yours truly.
I used to drive the Readi-Ride buses in Dixon. It was my second retirement job after putting 36 years of my life in various jobs under the umbrella of the United States Postal Service. I enjoyed that job a lot and stayed long enough to get a second retirement check by the time my wife completed her postal career.
Readi-Ride was a fun job for me. The best part was that I drove the bus in the same town that I had just retired as postmaster for the last 10 years. Ten years as postmaster gave me a complete knowledge of every street in town.
Readi-Ride, being a dial-a-ride service, required the drivers to pick up and drop off customers from anywhere in town. When a call would come out for a customer, the drivers had to know exactly where that pickup is located, and how to get there from where we were at the time of the call.
Most drivers knew their way around town because they had been doing this job for years. It must have been difficult for a new driver that was unfamiliar with the town.
Not me, I knew the town like the back of my hand and never had to ask where something was. I occasionally had to let the other drivers know, sometimes even the senior drivers.
Every morning we would report to work early enough to safety check our buses and clean out any debris left over from the previous day. We had brooms for that but often had to share them.
Walmart had a special sale on cheap brooms, and the boss bought us all our own broom. It was lightweight and they were all red. Something simple like that for some reason impressed me.
Unfortunately, that was spoiled when I leaned my new broom against the bus and went back in to the office to get something before heading out. I rushed back out to my bus and backed up to start my day.
Unfortunately, I forgot about the broom, and it fell to the ground, and the handle was smashed flat when the bus tire ran over it. It was practically brand new when this happened, and I was so mad at myself.
The boss wasn’t upset as it was a cheap broom and she told me she would get a new one. I said no, I did this and I’m gonna fix it.
I took it home and tried to strengthen the handle as it was so weak that trying to use it folded it in half. I was determined to find a way to fix it and my opportunity presented itself when I was driving around on trash pick-up day.
I turned the corner and saw a grey handle sticking out of a trash can. I stopped and unscrewed the handle from a broken broom in the can and put it on my broom.
I had the only broom that was a red broom with a grey handle. My fellow drivers thought I was nuts and they all got a big laugh about it. It served me well until I retired.
They threw a party for me when I retired, and I was presented with my grey and red broom as a retirement gift. We all got a great laugh about it, but I was so proud of that gift.
I took it home and added it to my tools. It made a great outdoor broom and when we were deciding what to move to Oklahoma, the tired ole broom was never considered for the “get rid of” pile.
I love that broom and the story that goes with it. It’s my garage broom now and when I used it a couple of days ago, I had a flashback of this goofy story that goes with it.
I can be so easily amused…