The Legend Of LD, The Knee Driver
Over the weekend, I was beating myself up for not taking up a generous and (potentially) once-in-a-lifetime offer to go to Miami for Super Bowl week. Just abusing myself, mentally. "F*ckkkk, I might end up regretting this forever," replayed in my head over and over on Saturday as I attempted to celebrate my birthday by sipping $15 vodka sodas on a 30 degree day in Manhattan. People were telling me I absolutely had to do it and that they'd "lose all respect" for me if I didn't. I felt like I was letting down my company, radio show, and its supporters in more ways than one. But most importantly, I was doing a disservice to the only person or thing I truly care about: myself. I'd be missing out on the sunshine and attention; the parties and VIP perks (both the lack of lines and surplus of lines); the Instagram models and the potential ocular contact I'd be making with them; the biggest weekend in all of sports in one of the funnest cities in all the world.
But (bear with me as I try to convey a completely serious sentiment) yesterday's horrific tragedy ended up shedding light on the fragility of life and the unrelenting dangers of transportation, specifically the more risky methods. Refraining from spending 19+ hours riding in a motor vehicle with a complete wildcard of a stranger steering solely with his knees suddenly didn't seem like such a poor or regrettable decision. However, I'd be remiss to not throw up at least one blog in honor of the legend LD: The knee driver from New Jersey and the "electric content" that never was.
I'm pretty sure I touched on this in the past, but my internet tendencies and the persona I gradually crafted for myself over the past 5+ years have (justifiably) banished me to an inescapable "boy who cried wolf" position where, even if I'm being completely serious about something, people automatically assume I'm lying or performing some kind of dumbass bit like a complete dickhead. I'm at a point where I can't earnestly compliment someone's appearance or engagement or accomplishment without sounding like I'm doing the exact opposite. That's why I absolutely refused to even acknowledge any of my (now ex) girlfriend's haircuts or job promotions. But another thing to result from years of spewing deception like an impish menace or Pinocchio/Voldemort hybrid, is that I, myself, cannot trust anyone else. I've attracted an energetic and rapidly multiplying contingent of trolls, and aspiring trolls, who regularly attempt to give me a sniff of my own lines.
Even if it means stooping far below sea level to get it done...something I'd never do.
Ok, you get it (he sent me an entire F. Scott Fitzgerald chapter). But honestly, how unbelievably foolish and self-important I was to think that anyone grieving the recent death of their child would even think about "kbnoswag" from Twitter. I was embarrassed and ashamed. From that day on, I vowed to never take the bait like that again. Even when people try to use my attempt to show earnest respect during a universally heartbreaking time as an excuse to make a joke of the situation and rile me up.
So when a strange-sounding man, who coincidentally also went by his initials, called into The Yak two weeks ago, claiming to be some kind of "award-winning knee driver" who wanted to transport me from New Jersey to Miami with nothing but his "platinum patellas." And that he was currently "working on a screenplay for an Argentinian film," I instinctively and wholeheartedly believed that I was being trolled. In a rather shitty and obvious manner, to be honest. I was cataclysmically wrong.
Shortly after The Yak ended that day, I received a message from LD, himself, with video footage (albeit the grainy footage from a World War II walkie-talkie) showcasing his ability to operate an automobile with his knees
"Ok..OKAY," I thought to myself amidst waves of skepticism. Maybe this fucking weirdo wasn't completely full of shit. Maybe he was some kind of semi exceptional, "award"-winning prodigy who won some kind of senior superlative for "Best Knee Driver" or "Most Likely To Commit Involuntary/Voluntary Vehicular Manslaughter." But was he actually willing and able to ship me, hands-free, 1,000 miles to South Florida? My head remained firmly attached to the swivel.
Then, about a week later, I received another lengthy professionally-worded email from LD with several attachments, including head shots, a cover letter, three letters of recommendation, and this extremely detailed résumé:
I was enthralled. In fact, I experienced this weird déjà vuish "out of body" experience where I felt like this was one of the exact resumes I once sent to someone from the "jobs" section of Craigslist, down to the obscure Seinfeld trivia stat. Was this guy me? No, no, I was being naive again, wasn't I? I convinced myself that I was just easy to read, and he figured out how to pull off an elaborate troll that intentionally appealed to me.
Until last Thursday.
When the idiosyncratic folklore character known as "LD" left zero doubt about his authenticity, and delivered one of the most fascinating cinematic performances and amateur athletic achievements I've ever seen: