I met one of Fredericksburg Virginia's premier commuters last week, a disc jockey named Gerry Bradshaw.

He makes only one round trip a week, but that's plenty. Almost every Friday, he uses cars, trains, subways and airplanes to make the 1,000-mile trek to West Palm Beach, Fla. to spin CDs and good times at weddings, bar mitzvahs, school dances, picnics and country club soirees.

By Monday, he's packed away more than 1,000 pounds of players, amps, speakers, strobe lights, music-makers and smoke machines into his custom DJ trailer and tucked it all into his parent's garage in West Palm, then made the trek back here to a wife and four kids.

All week long, he plays Mr. Mom while his wife heads north each morning to a Defense Department job, using his free moments to arrange the next gig or two.

When Friday rolls around, he's packed his tux and dancing shoes, plus enough bow ties to make it through whatever shows are on the weekend's schedule, and passed the child-care torch to his wife, Patty.

"It's difficult being gone every weekend, but that's the nature of the business I'm in," said Bradshaw, so confident and self-assured that if he wasn't in some sort of show business he'd probably explode. "The younger kids don't really understand it all; I just tell them Daddy sings at weddings."

I first met Bradshaw after doing a column on voice mail and automated phone systems. He called to tell me his ultimate phone horror story–three of the Ma Bell companies had printed the wrong 800 numbers for the disc jockey business he's trying to launch up here.

"You talk about a nightmare; try starting a new business with phone numbers that won't work for a full year," said Bradshaw, the anger rising in his voice. "That's a problem, but I'm moving ahead anyway."

I was intrigued enough by this different sort of weekend warrior to find out what a life of spinning platters and dishing chatter is all about.

I wasn't expecting to hear about some of his high-powered clients–people like musician-model couple Billy Joel and Christie Brinkley, Jack Nicklaus, Burt Reynolds, singer Boz Scaggs, baseball player Gary Carter and on and on.

It seems the residents of West Palm Beach–many of them rich and famous–like to boogie come Friday or Saturday nights. That kept Bradshaw eating six years ago when he got laid off from his day job at a manufacturing firm.

"Twelve years ago, I had done my first gig, for a single's club I belonged to at the time," he said. "We had these dances and the DJs we got for them were so lame and their equipment so lousy, I decided to give it a try. Besides, I had just gone through a divorce and could use the $50 a night the job paid."

Making the switch from weekday salesman to weekend DJ was a piece of cake for the native West Palm Beacher.

When business went bad and he lost his day job, Bradshaw said it was a blessing in disguise. He doubled his efforts at the DJ business, sprucing up his act by amassing a comprehensive library of music and adding flourishes such as maracas for the guests. He offers a custom-tailored evening of entertainment for the customers signing the check.

He's had his share of memorable gigs–from the groom decked out in Mickey Mouse attire to the wedding guests who all donned Groucho Marx glasses when the minister asked if anyone in attendance objected to the union.

By far, his most exciting job came when he got a call one Friday to see if he could do a special Saturday afternoon barbecue. The client was Billy Joel, who wanted to reward his entourage for helping him get a gold record for the hit single, "We Didn't Start the Fire."

"I was a little nervous at first, but Billy Joel asked me to play some Jimi Hendrix, then Christie Brinkley jumped up on a table and started playing air guitar," he said, smiling. "The whole afternoon was wonderful. We played volleyball, had a picnic and had a lot of fun. Days like that make it all worthwhile."

By the way, Gerry can definitely be reached at (800)332-2037.