2024-01-20 - How Not to Get to Michigan

"Right, anyway- So there I was, standin' in a truck stop bathroom somewhere just outside of Montgomery, starin' at the single sorriest-lookin' vending machine I ever did see. Now, I'm a man who believes in fate, an' fate was speakin' to me that day, 'cause outta all the things in that machine- aspirin, beef jerky, a pair of novelty dice that I still got in my pocket- it was the little package labeled 'Hot Shot Energy Gum' that caught my eye. Now, I ain't never seen energy gum before, but I figured, hell, I got a long way to go, an' I just spent the last hour arguin' with a man about whether or not a carburettor can be 'too clean,' so I'm already feelin' a little drained."

Merle paused for a moment, seemingly to take a breath, but really just long enough to flash a grin before barreling forward.

"Now, I dunno if you've ever had somethin' called 'Hot Shot Energy Gum' before, but let me tell you-it ain't natural. First chew, my mouth felt like I licked a car battery. Second chew, my left eye started twitchin'. Third chew? I swear to God, I could hear the truckers outside talkin' about me through the walls. But I ain't no quitter, so I chewed that gum, washed it down with a gas station coffee that reminded me of the motor oil I done pulled out of a rusted fanboat, an' I hit the road."

He adjusted his weight, planting his elbow on the nearest surface. The poor soul listening blinked twice and made the fatal mistake of nodding.

"So now I'm feelin' real good," Merle continued, emboldened. "Like, too good. Like, I could outrun a deer an' punch a tornado good. I get back in my truck, put on some Skynyrd, an' start drivin'. Nothin' but open road, a half-eaten bag of boiled peanuts, an' the sweet, sweet sound of Ronnie Van Zant tellin' me to turn it up. An' then it hits me-realization number one."

He leaned in like he was about to say something profound.

"I don't got my wallet."

Silence. A seagull outside made an indignant noise.

"Now, at this point, I'm a hundred an' forty miles north of Montgomery, halfway into Alabama, an' all my worldly possessions-'cept for my duffel bag, my wrench, an' a quarter tank of gas-are still sittin' on the sink of a Covey-Liven's Travel Stop bathroom. Now, lesser men? They'd panic. Me? I figure this ain't nothin' but a detour. So I whip a U-turn at a speed I do not care to disclose an' head back south."

The person listening swallowed, perhaps wanting to interject. It did not help.

"Now, at this point, somethin' strange starts happenin'. That gum? That evil, unholy gum? It's still workin'. But now, instead of just makin' me feel invincible, it's givin' me ideas. Bad ones. Like, 'What if I just drove through the night? What if I don't stop? What if I just-'" he made an exaggerated zooming motion with his hand, "-power through an' become the highway? Time is but a concept and right there an' then I held all the keys to its many, many locks."

"An' that ain't even the worst idea I had," he continued. "See, somewhere in all that, I got it in my head that maybe I didn't need a map no more. Maybe, just maybe, my soul knew the way. So I start ignorin' road signs, takin' exits on instinct, listenin' to the whisper of the wind like I'm some kinda highway prophet. That lasts for all of twenty minutes before I find myself in the parkin' lot of a 24-hour Waffle House with a very confused employee starin' at me through the window."

A pause. "I got a waffle."

Another pause. "It was not a good waffle."

He sighed, like the disappointment still lingered, then forged ahead. "Anyways, back on track. That was when realisation number two hit me."

Another pause. The listener was not going to ask. They had learned. But Merle was going to tell them anyway.

"I'm goin' the wrong way."

Outside, the lake lapped against the docks, and someone somewhere called out for luggage.

"Now, by the time I fix that mistake, it's, oh, 'bout three-thirty in the mornin'. Ain't sure what day. I get my wallet back from this fella who'd been holdin' onto it like I was gonna pay him a ransom, an' I hit the road again, properly this time. I make it through Tennessee, Kentucky, Indiana-all without incident. I'm feelin' good. I’m feelin' competent. Hell, I’m feelin' downright professional."

A short pause. "Then I get to Michigan."

He sucked in a breath.

"Now, let me tell you, I done seen a lot of things in my time. I seen a gator get into a fight with a cement truck an' win. I seen a man drive a Ford Pinto clean into a swamp an' climb out like he meant to do it. Hell, I seen a woman wear bikinis like it were her comfort clothin', even if she always wore sandals in my shop. But I ain't never, ever seen nothin' like Michigan roads in the winter. Now, I know what you're thinkin', 'Merle, you shoulda known it’d be cold.' An' you’re right. I did know. But what I didn’t know was that y'all just accept this nonsense. Y'all just live with the idea that the whole state moonlights as a damn ice rink waitin' to kill ya at every turn."

A pointed look. "A man told me to 'just drive slow' like that was helpful advice. Lemme tell you somethin'. You cannot just drive slow when the wind is screamin' at you in a language you don’t understand an' the road looks like somethin' outta one o' them survival movies. The ones with the dudes with the beards and the narrowin' eyes and the 'we gotta survive.' deals."

He clapped his hands together. "Anyways, after fish-tailin' through half the state an' makin' peace with several deities, I finally get to the ferry, an' lemme tell ya, I ain't never been so happy to see a boat in my life, even if'n it could use a fan or two. Stumbled on in here, an' now here I am."

A long pause.

The listener stared at him, then slowly blinked.

Finally, in the softest, most defeated voice imaginable, they said: "Sir, I just need the ID you were given, then we can get you situated on Crescent Island."

Merle blinked. He blinked, patted his pocket, found the card he had absolutely already pulled out at some point, and handed it over.

"Well, hell. Why didn’t you just say so?"