As my profile states, "I am a poet and a novelist trapped in a truck driver's body." This describes my current state of mind fairly well. I arrived here in New Kingsland, Pa. yesterday around 7:30 in the evening. I parked at my company's terminal with the intention of getting my truck serviced this morning. Now, a routine two hour preventative maintenance has turned into a major mechanical marathon of sorts, which I have no idea when it will end. Finally, after nearly coming to blows with the shop foreman, I was put up in a motel room that has stained carpet, dirty sheets, a hard bed, and smells much like my dog when he gets wet. Meanwhile, the mechanical genious that is attempting to put back together that which he tore apart on my truck, is probably eating his lunch or taking a nap. I just hope and pray that I can get rolling again before lunch tomorrow, or I will never make my destination of Prattsville, N.Y. on time. Meanwhile, I have no new poetry, because if I attempted to write a poem now, it probably would not be very nice. By the way, if any of you here of a good literary agent willing to take a chance on a truck driving poet, send me a message.