Go Bert!

I talk a lot of smack when I'm driving. I've been known to drop an F bomb or two while behind the wheel. I ask people what they think they're doing, or where they're going. I tell them to get out of my way. One thing I say, though, doesn't make sense to a lot of people.

Its explanation is one of those things that sticks with you for life, and (while meaning very little to most) means so much to those who understand.

"Go, Bert!" actually has a funny, if somewhat alarming and bittersweet explanation.

Growing up, I had the fortune to live on an acreage about 15 minutes out of the city. Our place was across the highway, and down the road a ways. A rancher had sold off a parcel to be subdivided, and it was this new subdivision where we lived. My parents were actually the first to buy and build there, and for a long time there was only about 10 other houses.

Being a country kid, I had to make friends where ever I could. There were a few kids my age nearby, but we weren't above popping into adults' homes for quick visits either. Bert and Mary Hall were an elderly couple that lived nearby, who we visited often. (The lollipops that they always had on hand may have encouraged those visits... probably.)

Anyway, Bert and Mary were already as old as dirt when we moved out there. Bert was blind and Mary was deaf. They were still independent, though. They lived in and maintained their little Cardinal-built house, where they'd lived most of their married lives and had raised their children. And they drove a classic black Thunderbird, which was still in mint condition.

They probably shouldn't have been driving. And I say They, because driving was a team effort for them. Being a traditional couple, it was always Bert behind the wheel. Bert was blind. Not totally, 100% blind; but blind enough that he couldn't see more than 10 feet in front of him. Mary was the navigator.

Driving into town, back then, wasn't a big deal. It was a 2 lane gravel road that didn't get much traffic. However, to get into and out of town, you had to cross a 4 lane, divided highway.

Bert and Mary would tootle down the road in their shiny black Thunderbird, and they'd come to a stop at the highway. There, they'd sit and wait until Mary gave Bert the go-ahead. And, if you happened to be stopped behind them (or sometimes on the other side of the highway) you'd hear the cue for Bert to cross.

When the way was clear, stone deaf Mary would beller at the top of her lungs: "GO, BERT!"

And Bert would put the pedal to the metal, and they'd tear across the first two lanes of the highway. Then they'd come to a screeching halt at the median, and wait for the way to be clear to cross the next two lanes. Mary would yell "GO, BERT!" again, and they'd rip across to the other side, into the city... and somehow manage never to be in an accident.



So, if you happen to be a passenger in my car (Or maybe if I'm a passenger in your car.) don't be surprised if you hear it. Anytime the way is clear and the driver ahead of me isn't moving ahead, that's what I say. I picture the Thunderbird at the side of the highway, and I can hear Mary calling out.

"GO BERT!"