Sack in the Baddle

Having spent far too long slicing footage of vocalists both local and hopeful, I almost grinned today as I slid behind the wheel of Unit 4. It's been a couple of weeks since I twisted my ankle in an impromptu display of clumsy Dad dexterity and since then I've thought alot about how I wanted to spend the rest of my days behind the lens. It ain't editing 'American Idol'. Hey, I'm thankful for the diversion - but after countless days of cutting tape of caterwauling milkmen, I'm glad to get out and do some driving of my own.

Not that my mission was all that compelling. Instead, my appointed rounds consisted of the mediocre and the mundane: a press conference here, a burned out apartment building there. For once I didn't mind though, I was just happy to escape the shadows of the edit bay - even if it did mean traversing the farthest reaches of two seperate counties for news items that would make up all of eighty-five seconds on their respective newscasts. Who cares? For every eight hour shift of newsgathering misadventure, there's easily three or four days of skull-numbing errand running, days spent filling TV screens with so much processed cheese. I'm okay with that.

I just wish it made for a more interesting blog-post. Truthfully, the only moment of intrigue came at a Rockingham County stoplight. There I was, staring at the windshield and listening to Jim and the boys rip through 'Alive She Cried', when the bleating of a fellow motorist's horn invaded my cockpit. Looking over, I saw a young man positively bouncing behind the wheel of an idling Chevy, grinning madly as he flashed me and my familiar logo an enthusiastic thumbs-up. Of course I returned the gesture, glancing only once to make sure the door to Unit 4 was securely locked. Apparently happy with the exchange, the young man sped off at the first hint of green. And that was about it. I'd like to tell you the fellow asked me if 'that thing had a Hemi?', or dragged me back to his lair for a mystical transaction of ideas and petty cash - but after watching clips of Oprah (rightfully) raking beleagured memoirist James Frey over the coals, I may never embellish again...