Thursday, January 23, 2014

The Cardboard Box Chapter Two.....Route 66...........by Diane Ogden

After much deliberation I concluded that New York City was not going to happen. Why?  Because I could never get across the Brooklyn Bridge without passing out slash dying slash plunging over the edge and into the abyss of water.  One might think I had an aversion to water.  Yes indeed.  I would have had to hire a driver, take a valium, and put a bag over my head to get there.  That being said, I opted for what I knew best....the West.  After packing up the pink suit.....gasing up the Cadi, I headed for Chicago and Route 66.  My radio was playing The Beatles, "We Can Work it Out."
Try to see it my way
Do I have to keep on talking till I can't go on?
While you see it your way
Run the risk of knowing that our love may soon be gone
We can work it out
We can work it out
Think of what you're saying
You can get it wrong and still you think that it's alright
Think of what I'm saying
We can work it out and get it straight or say good night
We can work it out
We can work it out
Life is very short and there's no time
For fussing and fighting, my friend
I have always thought that it's a crime
So I will ask you once again
Try to see it my way
Only time will tell if I am right or I am wrong
While you see it your way
There's a chance that we may fall apart before too long
We can work it out
We can work it out
Life is very short and there's no time
For fussing and fighting, my friend
Fussing and fighting
I have always thought that it's a crime
So I will ask you once again
Try to see it my way
Only time will tell if I am right or I am wrong
While you see it your way
There's a chance that we may fall apart before too long
We can work it out
We can work it out...

Listening to that song brought back immediate memories of Harper and I had only driven a few hundred miles.  That is until the next song came on, "Wild Thing, You Make my Heart Sing!"  Oh yeah, I turned the volume button to number 8 and sailed on toward Chicago. I was fine.  Leaving the rest behind.  I was on my way on that fine sunny day.  That is when I passed a fellow on the side of the road with his thumb stuck out as far as he could stretch it.  Humm, why not?  I pulled over and waited while he ran to meet his ride.  Was I afraid?  No way.  Any guy ready to ride in a Pink Cadillac had to be okay. He had a wholesome look about him anyway, and I could usually go by my gut on those things.  Well most of time anyway.  And then again with my track record maybe never.  Least he was not totten' a dog.  And I happened to have just enough room left for him to sit and hold his bag.  His name was Roger.  He was somewhat older than me but not so much that we couldn't enjoy a generational conversation.  In fact I felt a bit safer with Roger riding shotgun.  I hadn't thought ahead into the dark hours and what that might bring.  But then I never did well at looking too far ahead.  Some would say that was what caused much of my life problems.  I always made the joke I could only see life clearly after it passed cause my eyes seemed to be solely in my ass.

I asked Roger where he was headed and he told me Muskogee, Oklahoma.  After checking the map we found I would be traveling through Tulsa, which was about 50 miles NE of Muskogee.   It was then I realized I would have a traveling companion for the next twelve hours.  Or so I thought.
 
Roger was running from life.  Maybe even the law, I didn't ask.  I just knew. But I wondered if he was an escaped con, or a serial killer, or a husband running from his family!  I always did have a wild imagination and leaving on a life road trip had not changed that fact.  I was getting hungry as well as I needed to pee.  So I exited off Route 66 and onto a ramp somewhere outside Springfield, Illinois. I had only been driving about ten hours or so, but it was getting dark and I knew we would have to come up with sleeping arrangements soon.  I opted for food first.   We found ourselves in small town truck stop U.S.A.  The best food and service ever.  We split the check which at least told me I had not picked up a poor transient that might rob me.  Nope, it appeared Roger was honest but probably not pure.  But then nor was I.  We talked while we ate.  He asked me what I was doing with a car full of clothes, makeup, shoes, and a nice boom box.  I told him some of my story.  That growing up I always wanted to be a cowgirl and live either in or close to the biggest city ever.  Next I shared about the time my friend and I were supposed to dress up in cowboy clothes for school and I did but she didn't so I looked really dumb.  I shared with Roger some stories about my Granddaddy from Texas.  How much he impacted my life in few good ways and a few bad ways. I decided not to share it all with him yet.  What did that "yet" mean?  Who cares I thought.  Roger seemed to have the same goals I did.  Don't share too much and keep moving on.
 

Dinner was over and it was time to look for a place to sleep for the night.  I drove on a few miles when I realized  my eyes were heavy to the point of it being dangerous.  Roger offered to drive but I was not comfortable with the idea at that time.  That was when I saw an exit for a Wayside Rest Stop.  I pulled off Route 66 into the rest area.  There were rest rooms and a washing up area for the many other travelers whose eyes were heavy with needed sleep also.  We cleaned ourselves up and nestled in best we could in the front seat of my 1966 Pink Cadi.  I had a pillow and Roger had a backpack to lay his head on.   And that would be good for the next several hours.


When I awoke Roger was gone.  I looked around but saw no Roger in sight. In fact most of the parked cars and trucks had left already.  How long would I wait?   Maybe he was in the rest room.  Maybe he hitched a ride with a trucker who had better front seat accommodations than I had. Jeepers he cold have left a note.  Heck I was starting to sense that old male security blanket us women sometimes leaned on.  What if I leave and he just went for a walk in the woods.  No.  Okay a few more minutes and then I'm leaving.  Roger or no Roger.  It was then I decided to check on my purse to make sure all my travelers checks were still secured. 


Read more: Paul McCartney - We Can Work It Out Lyrics | MetroLyrics
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