He sees foxes, cars and kids

Newspaper carrier watches as Pasco awakes.

By MICHAEL KRUSE, Times Staff Writer
Published August 25, 2007

ADVERTISEMENT [Times photo: Michael Kruse] Michael Brown, an independent contractor, is one of those people who delivers the newspapers to your doorstep in the wee hours of the morning in central Pasco county. Brown is shown here preparing his papers for his route.

LUTZ - You call the man who delivers the papers because you want to know what he sees. In the hazy dark of the wee hours of the morning, which are mostly quiet and mostly still, the paper man sees things. Michael Brown sees Central Pasco.

So it's a little after 2:30 one recent morning at a warehouse just south of the intersection of U.S. 41 and State Road 54.

"Late truck," one of the other carriers says.

The truck with the papers is coming up from St. Petersburg.

"Really late truck," Michael says.

"All the drunks'll be home in bed by the time we get out."

Michael, who's 51, was born in Miami, grew up in Land O'Lakes and now lives in Hudson. He's been a Marine, a truck driver, a salesman for a medical equipment company and a corporate trainer for the Cheesecake Factory. He's an independent contractor for the Times, and he's been delivering papers for about a year-and-a-half, and doing this particular route for the last six months.

His route stretches basically from 41 to Oak Grove Boulevard and stays mostly on the south side of 54. It goes into subdivisions like Heron Cove, Carpenter's Run, and Nature's Reserve, and into Willow Chase, Willow Bend, Willow this, Willow that. He keeps his high beams on.

It's a little after 3:30 now. He starts his route.

He's never met most of the people who get the papers he throws, but he does know some things about them.

"Oh," he says, glancing at a driveway "he doesn't have his fishing boat hooked up today."

"These people," he says, pointing to a house, "camp every weekend."

"TV's on," he says at another house. "Those people are up a lot."

"You can tell when people have had a party," he says. "Christmas is great. You can see what they got."

On big trash day, he sees what people throw out -- wheel barrows, dining sets, perfectly good golf clubs, brand new headboards. Sometimes Michael picks stuff up. He gets first dibs.

Things you see around here at this time of day:

Rabbits, raccoons, possums, armadillos, 7-foot gators, big, beautiful deer out so close to the sides of the roads.

Kids drinking, kids smoking, kids making out in back seats of parked cars, kids toilet papering houses in Carpenter's Run.

Arguments that end up in front yards.

People jogging, people riding their bikes, people walking their dogs, people raking their yards. That happened one morning, honest, Michael says. There was a man, over on Oak Grove, raking his flower bed, around 3:45.

At this time of day, people are home, not off at work, so their cars are in their driveways. You can see who lives here.

You see New York license plates. Lots of them.

You see Hillsborough County deputies' cars, and Tampa city cops' cars, and Tampa airport cops' cars. They're everywhere.

Cul-de-sacs. You see cul-de-sacs. They're there all the time, of course, but when you're riding shotgun in the paper man's car, and he keeps driving down roads and throwing one or two papers, then having to turn around at the end, you begin to feel the cul-de-sacs.

"A lot of turning around," Michael says.

In and out.

Never through.

The roads here aren't connected. They don't lead anywhere but to their own individual ends.

You see FOR RENT signs.

You see FOR SALE signs.

"I wouldn't want to be a developer right now," Michael says. "I wouldn't want to be a real estate agent."

You see lots and lots of cars in driveways.

"Cars, cars, cars," Michael says. "Six, eight people living in a house, family and friends living together, because they can't afford the mortgage."

You see foxes. They dart through yards.

"I've seen them a lot," Michael says. "You used to never see them around here unless you were in the woods. I think we're just overtaking their habitat. I've probably seen six in the last three weeks."

Something you don't see? Over by where the Cypress Creek mall is going up?

Cows.

"Used to see cows all the time," Michael says. "That's where the cows used to be.

"No more cows," he says.

It's a little after 4:30 now.

Michael is on Rolling View Court. Another cul-de-sac. Goes nowhere. A garage door is open at one house, and there's a light on, and there's a TV on, and a few guys are drinking and watching ...

Michael slows and takes a look.

"Cartoons," he says.

It's still dark out at the end of the route. But you start to see more lights coming on in the houses. You start to see more cars showing up on the roads.

You see the new Central Pasco waking up.

Overnight notes

What happens between 5 p.m. and 9 a.m. is just as important as what happens between 9 a.m. and 5 p.m. and might say more about who we are and where we live. Got an idea? Contact Michael Kruse at mkruse@sptimes.com or 813 909-4617.

[Last modified August 24, 2007, 21:41:03]