Bret Kempler
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Stuck in suburbia
Dear Murphy,
It was my first trip out solo to New Jersey, and things were going great until I came to a five-way corner. There was a truck route sign, so I followed it until I saw a sign saying “Road Closed.” Not only was it closed, there was no road—just loose dirt two feet deep.
Now what to do? All the other roads had “No Trucks” signs. I pulled back, cut a hard left and drove back out to get to a phone. (I didn’t have a cell at the time.)
Just then I saw a detour sign that said, “Veer Right,” so off I went. As soon as I got down the street, I knew something was wrong. Little houses, little street, cars parked and people cutting grass who stopped and stared as I went by.
I made the first left and saw a shadow of wires wiggling. Oh boy. I gritted my teeth, made a right and saw the main road a few blocks ahead when up slid a cop. He looked at me and asked, “Did you just rip out someone’s phone line?” Being honest, I said, “Not that I know.”
(I didn’t actually see any wires fall.) Then I noticed the little green bushes on my trailer.
The cop asked if I could leave without tearing anything else out. I said, “Sure,” so he told me to get the he@# out of there and not come back. I didn’t.
“Flood” from Tennessee
Dear Flood,
You always hear that New York City is a great place to visit, but you wouldn’t want to live there. Suburban New Jersey apparently is a great place to live, but you wouldn’t want to visit there, especially if you are driving a big rig. No wonder all those nice people in those little houses on that little street with their little green bushes stopped cutting their grass to look at you in amazement. I’m guessing they had never seen a semi-tractor trailer rumbling down their little street before.
I know this is hard to believe coming from ’ol Murphy, but I really enjoy Murphy stories with un-Murphy-like endings. You know, when something actually goes rig
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