Beard McBeardly

I never thought about growing a beard. It’s not that I like or dislike beards, it just never occurred to me.

For most of my life I’ve had some kind of facial hair whether it be a mustache, or a little chin thingy thing, or a Van Dyke, or simply the unshaved 5 o’clock shadow kinda hair on my face.

But then Covid19 burrowed into our lives and changed things. All of the sudden, just like that, trucking became an even lonelier profession than it had been. Companies that I delivered imports to, or picked up exports from, shut and locked their doors. Truckers were not allowed inside. Instead of a gate guard to chat with during a check-in process, phone numbers were posted and instructions were issued from afar.

I would be told where to dock my truck and to leave my paperwork inside the trailer. I would back up to a closed dock door and when I was loaded or unloaded, I’d get a phone call or text message telling me I could leave.

The Ports of Virginia became so automated that any interaction between truckers was impractical and unnecessary.

So I got lazy and stopped shaving. I mean, why bother?

And so, lo and behold, my beard grew.

And grew.

And grew.

At one point, Miss Carol and me were eating dinner and she looked at me and said- Are you ever going to trim that?

And I said- I dunno.

Much later on, Miss Carol asked- are you going to keep that thing all summer long?

And I said- I dunno.

Mostly because I didn’t know and for the most part, still don’t.

Having a beard is a strangely pleasant experience. And I think I like that it’s changed my whole look to the point where I’ll tell friends that I grew it just so Miss Carol can feel like she’s sleeping with someone different.

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