A friend of mine runs a wrecker service. Sometimes he needs a little help, and I'll go somewhere with a trailer to pick up or deliver a car for him. One hot summer afternoon he wanted to know if I could make a run from Little Rock to south Missouri for him; the car had to be delivered that evening. The pickup truck I usually took was in use, so he'd borrowed a new Silverado for me to drive.
I forget the name of the Missouri town I went to now, but it was one of those trips that sticks in your mind. It was back roads all the way, old two lanes that had been off the beaten track since before I was born. Very rural. As usual I'd brought my handheld tape recorder with me since I always have these great ideas while I'm driving, but forget them by the time I get home. I never mastered the art of writing and driving at the same time.
Some weeks after the trip I transcribed the tape. It was a memorable trip and I intended to turn it into some sort of story to post on one of the mailing lists I hang out in, but it never jelled. The text below is the raw notes as transcribed, sometimes including the music that was playing while I was talking. Stream-of-consciousness isn't my favorite style either, but perhaps you'll find the notes interesting.
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I'm driving a '94 Silverado extended cab pickup. Green on the bottom, fading to white on top. Lowered, 245-series tires under fender flares, Vege-Matic wheels, running boards. The inside has captain's chairs, wood trim on the dash and doors, wooden center and roof consoles. If pimps drove pickup trucks, they'd drive trucks like this. All I needed was some Superfly headlights and a batarang antenna.
Moody Blues in the tape deck, playing "Veteran Cosmic Rocker"
As I'm threading through a couple of jogs in downtown Pocahontas (pop 5,124) I notice a small building. Nice professional lettering on the side - "Intimate Lingerie." That's pretty wild for a town in the hardcore Bible Belt. The front of the building has matching lettering - "Tropical Fish." Hey, cool. Then I pick up something in the mirror as I drive by - lettering on the other wall - "Race Car Parts." If the place wasn't already closed I'd stop and take a look.
Corning - mailbox with a two foot scale model of a wrecker
Going north on a bunch of little two lane roads, it's like I've been time warped back into the 1950s. No ghost towns like in west Texas or New Mexico, but obviously nothing has been going on for a long time. Lots of America's major contribution to architecture - the abandoned gas station - lots of obviously unused buildings of various types, one abandoned drive-in movie.
Lots of old motels. Neon signs on some of them, boasting air conditioning or color TV. Not one sign for pay-per-view porn yet. Of course, this is the veritable buckle of the Bible Belt; half of the counties I've driven through are dry.
Cheap Trick's 'Dream Police' in the tape deck. You can tell they're having fun doing the album.
"Mother told me, yes she told me I'd meet girls like you she also told me, "Stay away 'cause you never know what you'll get!"I stopped at a tiny general store and got an RC and a moon pie. I don't know what came over me. The RC was okay, but I still don't like moon pies.
There's a real honest-to-goodness tree with a chainfall, an eviscerated 5.0 Mustang sitting up on its bump stops underneath. There are chickens in the yard.
Passing through Qupie, Possum Grape, Ditto
Seeing old, old Dairy Queens, a MacDonalds with only one arch. Restaurants advertised on Coca-Cola signs.
laying in a pile in South Missouri, off highway 67, are at least three old Ford torque tube rear ends, complete with tires.
This whole part of the state probably doesn't look much different from when Heinlein was a kid
Driving through occasional spatters of rain, watching continual heat lightning. Lots of lightning...
Lots of Coronets, Chargers, Valiants, Darts. Most of them very sharp, some look restored. South Missouri is Mopar Country. I knew it had to be somewhere.
Another mailbox, fairly far off the road - a three foot scale model of a Late Model dirt tracker
dictating cooling system notes...
Steely Dan in the tape deck. Donald Fagen always reminds me of going to the dentist - sounds like he's got too much spit.
"Down at the Lido they welcome you with sausage and beer Klaus and the Rooster have been here too but lately they spend their time here"I passed a sign for a motel in South Missouri. The sign said there was a vacancy. For midgets, maybe. The motel had fallen in on itself.
scenic Piggott
A '62 Ford long straight box in a field, looks primo
fish hatcheries by the road
Reyno
Biggers
Hoxie
Ozzy Osbourne in the tape deck. The last track of 'No Rest for the Wicked' isn't listed on the disc. He's backed up by a bunch of people I never heard of, and they're *good*. The pimp truck's stereo doesn't have the range to do it justice.
"I am not your destination or the road to take you home so baby please don't go please don't go..."I'm used to eating about 5 PM. As it passes 7 PM I start looking longingly at some of the little diners as I drive by. I never much liked stopping at these little off-the-wall places to begin with, but after John DeArmond and I stopped at a little place in Florida I've sworn off. Catfish bones and batter for $14 wasn't my idea of a meal. There's also the matter of the Pimp Truck. I haven't seen another one since I left, and it's been attracting some sideways glances. It's obvious I'm Not From Around Here. I think of Jake and Elwood singing the theme from Rawhide over and over until the diners pass out. Maybe I'll just wait until I get back and pick up a box of Thai beef on the way home.
It's stopped raining. I'm driving along looking at rows of little bushy things - crops, hell, I don't know what they are - in neat rows perpendicular to the road. The fields are flooded and the sun is low in the late evening, making the water and plants into a crazy chrome and green moire. Makes me think of Gibson's "Neuromancer" for some odd reason.
Greg Keeler in the tape deck. It's a copy of a copy. Nobody else seems to have heard of him - I'd gladly buy a new tape - hell, a couple of spares too - if I could find them.
"Oh Lord don't you know I'm a genius and my art always has a new slant Hell, I'll even chisel the penis off this sculpture if you'll give me a grant"It's nearly dark. I'm cruising into some little town - well, a big town, it actually has a red light. There's a crowd over off the right, people standing in the street. Lots of old people in suits, police, a van marked "TV News". I'm threading the rig around the milling senior citizens and oncoming traffic, glancing over to see what the deal is. It's a guy in a red hat, a white beard, and the bottom half of a Santa suit, surrounded by Suits who look happy and respectable. What the Hell? I dig my map out of my kit and peer at it in the fading light. Nearing Hoxie, so this should be... Rock Ridge. Something walked down my spine with cold feet. There was something disgusting stuck to the map. I flicked it off, and Rock Ridge became Walnut Ridge. Whew.
Minturn pop 124
Alicia pop 157
As darkness falls I see the blue bug zappers hanging from porches and trees like bright hi-tech pinatas.
Iron Butterfly in the tape deck. As usual I've skipped to the main cut. A friend of a friend who knew the band said the title came about when a drunk tried to say "In the garden of Eden."
"In-a-gadda-da-vida, baby don't you know that I love you? In-a-gadda-da-vida, honey don't you know I'll always be true?"
Temple Station pop 247
Diaz pop 1363
It's quite late when I make it back. The Thai place is closed, so I pick up a couple of chickenburgers at Wendy's after I drop the rig off and pick up my car.
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