Malcolm James Thornwhistle (of the Downhampton Thornwhistles) was an intrepid world traveler, known for his early explorations of the upper reaches of the Mighty St. Joe River (and the discovery of flavored coffee creamers at the local Speedway). Whenever the yearning for adventure and discovery overtook him (along with a desire to be anywhere, but home, when his mother-in-law came to visit), Malcolm would jump in his flat bottom Jon boat and cruise up river in pursuit of knowledge and tranquility.

On one such excursion, Malcolm was pushing through the treacherously shallow waters upstream from Mottville, when a lone voice called out from the shore. “Well it took you long enough. I’ve been waiting twenty minutes. The app said you would be here in six. This is going in your review.”

“I’m not your Uber driver,” called out Malcolm, in a voice that sounded quite pleased to not be an Uber driver – especially this guy’s Uber driver. “I don’t give rides to personal injury lawyers. I hope you don’t mind. Nothing personal, it’s just business.”

The lone complainant was dressed in an off-the-rack suit, a style of shoe that didn’t go well with any suit (Madison Avenue three-piece, skinny jean hipster, or Mafia warm-up), and a briefcase that could double as a man-purse (due to the wide, leather shoulder strap – and side pouch for hair product). Malcolm had seen these creatures a few times before, but only in their native habitat. It was rare to see an OPIA (Obnoxious Personal Injury Attorney) this far away from a Starbucks. Malcolm kept his distance because he had heard rumors about their ability to bleed their victims dry of all their worldly value.

“I don’t have time for this. I have a thing,” the OPIA shot back curtly, as he tapped the face of his knock-off Rolex in a manner that was supposed to convey some sense of urgency.

The only sense that Malcolm could make from the actions of the wrist tapping OPIA was that he was dealing with an arrogant, self-centered, sphincter. “Sorry pal,” Malcolm called back. “I have a bigger and better thing, and I don’t have time for you and your thing. You’ll have to find another ride”

It should be explained that Malcolm was usually a very courteous explorer. Should he happen upon a traveler that needed help, Malcolm would help – it was in his nature – besides, it prolonged his time away from his mother-in-law. However, this was not one of those times. Imagine, if you will, the OPIA comes aboard Malcolm’s vessel, slips and falls, then sues Malcolm and ends up owning Malcolm’s home and trusty Jon boat. Maybe you can’t imagine it, but Malcolm could – and he could, also, imagine having to move in with his warm and caring mother-in-law without a Jon boat as a means of escape. Malcolm wasn’t having any of it.

“Your problems are not my problems,” whined the OPIA. “I have a thing and you need to take me to it. You should know I’m posting all of this to Yelp.”

“And you should know that I don’t NEED to take you anywhere,” Malcolm called out as he pointed his craft upstream. “Have fun posting on Yelp. Do you know who I am?” With that, Malcolm used sign language to spell out his name (it must have been in short-hand because he only used one digit).

Larry Wilson is a mostly lifelong resident of Niles. His essays stem from experiences, compilations and recollections from friends and family. He can be reached at wflw@hotmail.com.