And we rise.

For today, at least.

Personal goal achieved. Kind of.

It’s nice to start my Thursday morning with a #16 Rising in Humor. I magically cracked the top 20 without posting anything for the past three days. Maybe I’m being awarded for shutting the hell up for a day or two - who knows? I certainly don’t feel like I earned it - full disclosure: I have 1,722 subs, with 65 of those being paid. Surely I’m not the #16 earner on Substack’s humor list. Am I?

I did attain my goal to beat Dave Barry in the list, but I know it’s because he hasn’t posted in a week. Also, very anticlimactic because it doesn’t even come close to equating to dollah dollah bills. This is a lesson in choosing your goals, I’m sure.

I learned my first go-round with the public to never put a lot of faith in numbers, especially if you’re not sure of the origins of those numbers.

I’ve yet to crack the Substack code, mostly because I don’t treat this like a job or a game. It’s a nice place to lay down my burdens and make a little scratch to help support the feral cats. Anything I make here is bonus money and it is appreciated so very much.

It’s absolutely a big ego kick to make the list, especially cracking the top 20. I appreciate the people who read, share, and subscribe to me for their part in the whole process. I appreciate the platform, even though I know a lot of folks are angsty about it being owned by someone who donates to the dark side. Frankly, I’m a little angsty about that, too. It’s always in the back of my mind that I will boot up the ancient laptop one day and Substack will be no more. I fully expect this, and I urge you to back up your work here if you’re one of those people who write directly into the app.

Until then, I’ll enjoy the accolades and take them with a grain of salt, like I should have when I thought I was a hotshot trucking journalist because my three times weekly articles got read as much and often more than the hardcore, longtime (male dominated) trucking journalists.

I am certain that I was insufferable, and I apologize deeply to the long-suffering editors who put up with my bullshit on the regs. If I knew what I know now and all that happy horse shit, ya know?

I didn’t necessarily have a giant following, I just got a lot of hits because I was the lone female writer when I worked for Overdrive Magazine, and I was writing about something people hadn’t read about before in that capacity.

They were reading about themselves. They were reading about things they related to, from my ‘non-driving’ point of view. They put up with me because I gutted it out, stayed on the road. I truly believe some of those who boosted the ‘numbers’ loved to see me suffer. I very likely got as many hate-clicks as I did regular followers.

For whatever reason, I maintained a healthy following for a couple of years, and as mentioned before, I was likely insufferable about it.

Towards the end of our trucking adventures, we were traveling in our show truck for promotional purposes only. We spent the truck show season hauling around a bunch of Tough Tested products from show to show with a few Sam’s Club guest appearances here and there.

The truck always got a lot of looks, especially after the mini rat rod was added. It was built to grab attention and it certainly did. We were not surprised that pulling into The Belmont was an event worthy of a look-see for those already in attendance for the night.

We ended up spending a couple of nights in Roswell, New Mexico at the Belmont Motel - an old motor-court style spot that could accommodate the truck right outside our room. Also, it was cheap as hell and every dollar we didn’t spend on motel rooms was money saved for our pockets at the end of the season.

I scurried off to the room (to pee, no doubt) and left hubs to the guys who walked up as soon as the air brake was set to admire the truck and rat rod. ‘Jimmy’ and his partner were fascinated by the truck and both had more than passing knowledge about commercial vehicles.

And because George can talk to anyone about anything he engaged with Jimmy, gave him the spiel and even offered up some Tough Tested swag. (George is a born ‘people’ person. He can talk to anyone and actually carry on a conversation without saying something weird, which is a trait I admire an envy. I would have immediately said something like, “We don’t have a toilet,” or, “This is where we keep the pee bottles until we can empty them,” because I do not have the same abilities.

I eventually meandered out to the festivities to ‘assist’ in any way possible. George and Jimmy had become lifetime acquaintances and I just happened to walk up when Jimmy was explaining how he ‘knew’ us.

“Overdrive is one of the few mags they let us subscribe to in the pen because there’s no liquor or tobacco ads. I read about y’all the whole time I was locked up! It’s crazy to meet you!”

Now, clearly Jimmy had either done his time or was an escapee. Either way, I had no harsh feelings about him reading my work in prison, but I was taken aback a bit by the thought of the numbers I was probably amassing from the chain gang. It’s a weird feeling to hear that people read you because they have few other choices. It definitely knocked me down a peg or two on my hot shot scale.

Jimmy taught me a lesson that day. And we saw Jimmy again, later that week when we moved to a hotel with a pool. He was proudly wearing the Tough Tested swag George gave him on the fateful day that I learned I wasn’t that big of a deal.

Thanks, Jimmy. I needed that. And the moral of this story is, don’t rely on the numbers. Rely on your love for the things you post and the things that make your heart happy (or relieved) to put out there for God and everybody to see. Writing is a birth of sorts. Sometimes messy, sometimes easy, sometime extracted by force. Honor it. Post it. Let it ride.

That’s the extent of my wisdom for the day, kids. Take it or leave it. I’m going to take my own advice and send this one off to Let It Ride. Please be safe out there and don’t forget to turn it up.