As the crow - or parrot - flies from Lancaster, Calif., southwest to Los Angeles, he sees Highway 14 meander from the high desert plateau down the arid mountains to the San Fernando Valley. Once a week, for six years, my yellow-nape Amazon parrot, Michael, and I took this route to the Valley. From there we took the I-5 south on through downtown LA to the southbound Long Beach Freeway (710). The 710 took us to South Gate to the ARCO Vinvale Terminal. I began driving a tanker for ARCO in 1991 on our weekly nightshifts. Michael created his own job as the ARCO mascot the same year.

While I delivered my loads, Michael stayed in his cage in the lounge, except for his visits with JoAnne in the dispatch office. When the phone rang he answered it for her with a cheery "Hello?" The first time he did that, JoAnne laughed so hard she couldn't talk to the dealer, who probably wondered if the place had gone to the birds. Grady, a terminal technician dubbed him the "ARCO Sky Rat." That fit a biker's parrot to the beak.

Although leery of my Harley, Michael just loved big trucks. Perched up on the mirror bracket of a Kenworth, the rumble of the Cat inspired him to sing a few lines of his favorite Italian aria. "Stizzo mio stizzo!" he sang as I navigated the course of a truck rodeo. Once we took second place honors. Sing on, Michael!

Michael received a Perfect Attendance Award until the winter of 1996. We were working out of ARCO's Carson Terminal. Our avian vet diagnosed lung congestion and prescribed aerial workouts, wings precisely clipped for short, descending arcs. "He needs aerobic exercise in order to build up his immune system, just like you," the vet advised.

We took his advice. I found parks near Vinvale with wide-open spaces. On flight days, he lurched on my arm, feet grasping tightly, as I jogged around our course. On the home stretch, I held my arm aloft to signal him to spread his wings and fly. Orange eyes wild and full of sky, he would open his green and scarlet wings and spring into the air. The cure worked.

In the winter of 1997, I applied for a transfer to our San Jose Terminal. Michael got wind of this. He took his exercise as training flights for his own way to San Jose. A Sky Rat to his green-chicken heart, he snuck in some new plumes...

One balmy spring day, we showed up at Carson early. I took Michael out for his exercise and saw Tyrone, my partner, waiting in Truck 8181 at Lane 1 to get his last load.

With Michael perched eagerly on my right hand, I began jogging. A few paces later, I held him aloft. Rarin' to go, he jumped into the air. The scarlet patches of his wings flamed in the sun as he maintained, then gained altitude. "San Jose! Which way? Here I go!" he squawked. He circled to the left for a course due north. "Yup, this way! Yahoo!" Michael picked up speed. Tyrone pulled towards the rack. I sprinted frantically below Michael.

Not used to lengthy flight, Michael's lungs soon gave out. His descending arc aimed straight for Tyrone's shiny #2 truck compartment. His landing pattern was right in the path of the advancing driver tires. "That ole ARCO Sky Rat's gonna be Green Chicken Pie!" I exclaimed out loud, running desperately.

Tyrone saw a green blur flutter through his right mirror and stopped on a dime. His right outside driver kissed Michael's left wing as he landed, beak open wide and gasping for breath. I scooped up my Sky Rat and smoothed his ruffled feathers.

"Darn truck got in my way," he sputtered. "San Jose, San Jose! Darn truck!" Tyrone, tall enough to check a cabover radiator without a ladder, strode over. "Whew," Tyrone heaved a sigh of relief. "You'd have dispatched me to Trucker's Pearly Gates if I'd made Michael into a little green pancake!"

With Michael on one arm, I hugged Tyrone with the other. "You did two things we all oughta do," I said. "Before you started out you checked your mirrors first. And second, you kept your eyes moving. We sure can't take anything for granted. You never know when the ARCO Sky Rat might do a fly-by check on your driving skills!"

Ron, the terminal technician, got a bird's eye view of the event and came up with the moral to the story: "Pre-trip the bird, Nina!"