Trifter

I woke up this morning feeling like traveling.  I don’t mean calling travel agents, making plans, looking at “packages” and scheduling flights.  I just want to grab some cash, hop in my car and take off.  In truth, I have rarely in my life done the type of travel with all this planning, renting cars and so forth.  This is what business people and the middle class people with money do.  This is what people do who have to do what everyone else does.  I grew up riding on Trailways and Greyhounds and taking long car trips with my parents.  We never had such formal plans. 

So I feel like traveling.  I want to wake up in the morning when it’s dark and throw some clothes in a suitcase.  I want to jam everything into the car and get in.  I want to forget something and run back in and imagine what it would be like to not be going and then feel happy that I am going.  I want to look out my window and realize that while I was running around getting ready to take off, a sunny morning had happened outside. 

I wouldn’t have coffee at home.  I would drive awhile and then stop at some little diner for breakfast.  I would have a regular cup of Joe with that powdered creamer, pancakes and bacon on a syrupy white platter, maybe some scrambled eggs on the side.  The waitress would be some lady from the small town I was stopped in and she would smile and ask if I needed more coffee. I would say “Yes, please mam.”

I guess I might head more South than I already am.  I want to see the two-headed snake, and meet strangers having fun on vacation with no responsibilities and kids hanging out of their cars.  I want to eat boiled peanuts from colorful roadside stands that sell Outsider Art and molasses.  I want an ice cold Coke in a can.  And, I will stop for lunch at another diner, with Chicken Fried Steak, Barbecue, Fried Chicken, Cheeseburgers, Sweet Tea, Gravy, and homecooked veggies with cornbread and biscuits.  It will be bustling with hungry people and waitresses running everywhere with pencils behind their ears. “Yes, more ice tea, Please mam.”

Tonight I will stay at Motel Six, all white with a comfy bed and just a TV.  I wake another morning and think about the coffee and breakfast I will have.  I am headed for the Ocean today.  It may be the Gulf but it is an ocean to me.  I get back in the car and take off.  The South is getting deeper.  It is warmer.  I take off down some crazy little road and find a crazy little junk shop.  I buy a Depression glass  saucer for two dollars.  Then I travel on.  I never take the Interstate.  I travel only lost highways and dirt roads.  I see chickens and little kids playing in the yards of the houses I pass.  I see old, old towns that haven’t changed in fifty years except to get a Dollar General Store and a Wal-Mart.   I am truckin’ now.

Tonight, another Motel Six.  They leave the light on for me.  The man behind the counter is nice and tells me about the free coffee and donuts in the morning.  I go watch TV for hours and fall asleep.  Then next morning, at the crack of dawn I head out again.  I see people  going to work and I am glad I am not those people.  I see school buses with kids off to get what is known in this country as an education, trapped in four walls for an entire day and then loads of homework.  Then start all over the next morning.

Finally, I have a feeling.  The green signs are all counting the miles.  I am on the coastal highway.  I stop the car and there she is, the ocean in the gray dawn, seagulls screaming and sand crabs scurrying.  I park and just throw off my shoes and run into the waves.  Traveling.