I always say that I was a professional comedian for twelve years, but because I was clinging to the bottom few rungs of the showbiz ladder, and I was doing so in the American Northwest, really, I was more of a professional driver than an entertainer.
If someone offered me a job driving my own car, paying for my own fuel, going eight to twelve hours a day, four or five days in a row, usually with some obnoxious person I didn’t enjoy sitting in the passenger seat for $100 or so dollars a day, there’s no way I’d take it. But when I was in my twenties, if they added me doing my act in a bar when I arrived at my destination every night, I took the job and thanked them for the opportunity.
I was, in short, a moron.
On an unrelated note, The last panel was done as a favor for a reader who worked for a trucking company and hoped my comic would be good for the drivers’ morale. I don’t know if it worked, but they sent me a nice hat with the company logo on it, which I still have.
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