I'd been following this guy heading up to Sault Ste. Marie, Canada ever since I had turned right off East US Highway 2 coming in from Duluth, Minnesota. Now I
was finally heading through Michigan's Upper Peninsula, North on US I-75
Up here, except for the trees, North US 1-75 is a long flat uninteresting road. At 4 AM in the morning the U.P. feels like you are in the "Twilight Zone". It's especially so on a Sunday following the 4th. of July when you can sometimes drive for miles without seeing one other vehicle. It is peaceful drive but an erie one.
The highway was empty but for a few cars headed south; I figured they were probably left overs from a weekend of gambling heading back to Ann Arbor and such places to count their losses.
I rather liked following the big truck ahead of me with all it red and blue lights. It punctuated the darkness and made it less dreary. Then too, my newly acquired "traveling companion" helped brighten things up when I heard him talking trash to another trucker on his CB.
Hadn't really known if anyone used CB's anymore until
tonight. It seems with all the new cell phones towers
you wouldn't really need them anymore except in the woodsy pockets of Michigan's Upper Peninsula, Wisconsin, and Minnesota where reception was impossible or sporadic.
Come to think of it, that's probably why truckers still use them and why on this trip, my old portable CB is sitting on the console with its silly looking stick-on antenna attached to the roof of my travel van. My mechanic had made me promise to use it on this trip before leaving St. Paul for the Soo Locks despite my
objections to how dorky it looked.
Anyway, these truckers talking to each other obviously used and owned CB's.
After awhile, I no longer overheard them. I began to think I should see about trying to make contact with them or someone else.
I fiddled with all the CB dials but had no luck. I could hear a man's voice, but it was plain he didn't hear me.
Nevertheless I continued to keep it on in order to break the silence since my cell phone was dead and I was out of AM/FM range of my favorite DJ in Boston.
Before long I could hear the trucker start talking to
himself and even singing along with his radio.
This was fun. Now I was beginning to enjoy driving despite the pouring down rain. Turning my windshield wipers to high, it was soon apparent the rain was beginning to freeze and that we were getting "Christmas In July". It was actually starting to snow.
What is it they say about Michigan weather? If you don't like it, wait 5 minutes and it will change. Being in all this made me glad I had moved to Boston. It's not
San Francisco but it beats this "on again, off again" unpredictable weather.
I wondered if this was nightmare about to happen as sleet and snow framed my windshield. This I didn't need. So what's next? "Black Ice?" Not likely this time of the year, but if it happened this highway would be like a skating rink. If the roads instead turned "greasy"
this wouldn't be much better. (1)
I figured if I increased my speed that maybe I could beat the worst part of this snowstorm and get some sleep at the Bay Mills Native American Casino.
Best thing about casino's is they're great spots of
refuge during storms. They always have plenty of places to park, nice rooms, good security, tasty food, entertainment, and their own electricity and water. They are ultimate "convenience centers" offering comfort to the weary traveler despite their reputation of doing you out of your money at the slot machines.
Dam road. Getting slick. And my friend up ahead
is not much help. Why in hell must he drive so slow?
This long stretch of road isn't THAT bad! Oh well, the
turn off for Bay Mill's can't be more than an hour up ahead and then I'll lose him. He's probably taking that load of high end furniture right across the border to the Canadian Royal Casino; but then again it could be destined for our side of the international locks - the Kewadin Casino in Sault Ste. Marie, Michigan.
Which ever one it was I wished he'd get out of my way; drive faster or pull off the road somewhere.
Fiddling with my CB once again I broadcast:
"Babe In The Woods" here. Can you hear me? Over and out. Babe In The Woods. Got a better channel for me?"
No one answered, but I could hear the trucker say:
"Am I going to slow Babe. Am I going to slow."
WHAT! He's using my name! How would he know my name?
Then it dawned on me, how I had happen to see that semi before and where I had heard that voice. It was instant revelation - that OMG big "ah-ha"
no shit moment.
********************************
When I had gassed up in Iron Mountain a few hundred miles back, I saw this exact same bright red "North Carolina Furniture" semi-truck and trailer.
While I was in the gas station standing at the cash register fishing through my bag for money, this good looking red headed guy stepped up ahead and paid for his fuel. As he reached around me for a pack of gum, he smiled broadly and said:
"Excuse me Babe..."
Startled I turned and looked right at this "Robert Redford look-alike" and replied:
"Sure. No problem. Btw, do I know you?"
He laughed and said:
"No but I wish you did! "
Laughing right along with him, I stuck out my hand and said:
"My name is Babe. And yours?"
It was his turn to laugh.
"Oh, funny! Your name REALLY IS Babe! Glad to meet you. Everybody just calls me Red, even my girlfriends."
I almost went into my whole dissertation about red
headed people - about how rare they are genetically - but decided I'd better not. I'm friendly by nature but cautious and don't take risks when I'm traveling.
My eyes stalked his cute little butt leaving the station and sauntering behind my van. He looked back at me watching him from the station's window; he waved, and then saluted my "BABE" vanity plate.
The clerk and I joked about this but by the time I pulled out of the parking lot, I had shrugged the entire incident off until just now.
I was confident the trucker at Iron Mountain
was indeed the same guy I had met only hours before and was now the trucker directly in front of me.
Turning the volume up, I could hear Red coming in loud and clear. It didn't ever matter anymore that he couldn't hear me. I found myself enjoying and loving his rich deep voice. What was better yet, I now had a face in the back of my mind to go with that voice.
******************************
Adjusting the dial I heard Red half singing and half talking:
"Am I driving too slow Babe?
I'm not driving too slow,
I could really let her go
But this white stuff is snow."
"Am I driving too slow Babe?
I could open her wide,
But I might go into a slide,
Make this old rig divide!"
"Am I driving too slow Babe?
Down road is a big buck deer,
HARLY HAWGS, BIKERS N' BEER,
BLACK SHIRTS SAYING 'NO FEAR'."
"Am I driving too slow Babe?
There's a bad curve up ahead,
Where I saw a man lay dead,
Slow down! You listen to Red!"
"Am I driving too slow Babe?
Am I driving too slow? OH NO!
I'm not driving too slow."
"Am I driving too slow Babe?
This you need to know,
Looks like black ice and snow,
Careful now, you could slide below."
"Am I driving too slow Babe?
Listen I'm coming back,
Go on ~ look at my stack!"
"Am I driving too slow Babe, OH~
Am I driving too slow ~ OH ~ OH
Oh no, I'm not driving too slow! "
"Am I driving too slow Babe?
Not gonna make it home tonight,
Cause I got you and this road to fight,
But Lord who cares, I'll make it right."
"Am I driving to slow Babe?
Soon the bright sun will shine,
So listen to this CB whine'
Breakfast waits at 'Stop & Dine'."
"Am I driving too slow Babe?
A ways up there I'll dump my load,
And rush back to you on this road,
You're my Apple Pie A'La Mode!"
"Am I driving too slow Babe?
Let's pour on the coal
Make this next stop our goal
I want you both body and soul."
"Am I driving too slow Babe?
Am I driving to slow? Oh no.
You and I we'll go slow.
Oh Babe don't you know,
I need you so."
***************************
After listening to Red's oft repeated renditions of my
father's song (2) I gave up and soon ceased all my efforts to try and pass him.
The weather wasn't about to let up but I made peace with what was. I was glad to be sharing the road with Red . His unknowingly singing my father's sweet song assured me angels in heaven were looking after me.
Continuing to follow Red down the highway, I fondly recalled the twinkle in Dad's eye and the deep feelings about the origins - the true story - behind his song. I felt like he was with me tonight protecting me and enjoying my fond memories of him and his colorful personality. I wondered if he'd think Red was good
enough for me and thought I heard him say:
"Well I sent him to you didn't I?"
*****************************
Eventually we entered the little village of Bay Mills
which for all practical purposes is actually an
Indian Reservation. Soon I saw the right hand
blinkers indicate he was turning into the Bay
Mill's Casino Parking Lot. I followed directly behind
him and parked close to the main door of the casino.
Red parked over by the lake in the area designated for RV's and big rig tractors and trailers.
I could hear his diesel engine running and I hoped
he would stay put until they opened at 6 AM so I would have a chance to visit with Red over breakfast.
I knew from his singing that he had me and breakfast laying heavy on his mind. What concerned me is that he had no way of knowing that I knew and also wanted to have breakfast with him. I hoped after all we had been through on the road, that I didn't lose him now.
Deciding I had better go in and see if they had
any rooms available, I grabbed my overnight bag and carefully made my way across the slippery pavement.
Turned out it was no problem to get a room as the busy weekend was over. They even let me check in early which gave me a chance to shower and change clothes before going into the dinning room for breakfast and hour later.
I was tired but more hungry and horny - determined if Red showed up in that dinning room I was gonna persuade him to come back to my room if not tonight, some night.
All I could think about was how much he looked like a young sexy Robert Redford; visualizing him made
my juices flow. I was wet with anticipation but calmed down enough to take a quick shower just in case my wildest dreams were about to come true.
Sitting by the window enjoying my coffee, I looked out at the lake and glanced at the Wall Street Journal. When I looked up, I saw him pointing over
at me from the doorway where the hostess was
about to seat him.
She came over and asked if it was okay for Red to join me. It was all I could do not jump up and give him a hug as he approached my table.
We enjoyed breakfast and non-stop talking. Turns
out he was filling in for a driver that worked for his
family's business. He worked for them in the summers but in the fall would be returning to school at the
University of Michigan in Ann Arbor.
After breakfast we stopped in the Casino Gift Shop
and bought a deck of cards and dice. Then we
proceeded to the "Craps Table" where we each won over $5,000.
Before our luck changed we got out of there. Red rented the bridal suite for us and we spent the rest of the day in total decadence beginning first with eight hours of cuddly sleep, dinner in our room and then a very hot game of strip poker followed up by the best fucking time I ever had. To say we were having a "a hot streak " was the understatement of the year.
*********************************
Footnote:
(1)
"Black Ice" is a thin glaze of ice on top of a black top road. One can see through it and therefore does
not realize it is like an ice rink and dangerous.
"Greasy" means the road is chemically changed
and is oily and therefore slippery
(2) "The Old Detroit Truck Driver's Song" was re-written and published in 1996. It was originally
penned in 1974 by my father.
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Babe
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