Terrible economy revives memories of best jobs

An abused, cantankerous white 1987 Chevette was my steed in one of the best jobs I ever had - delivery driver for a neighborhood pharmacy. With my open-top card board box filled with bags of prescriptions, bottles of soda, cartons of cigarettes, magazines, boxes of tampons, and anything else sold in the store, I'd hit the street with purpose. The car was bare bones, but it did have a tape deck. That's all I needed. I'd pop in Sam Cooke's Greatest Hits, crank up the miserable vehicle - seeming to wake it from a hungover sleep - and take to the streets like the Lone Ranger of Corner Commerce.

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