30 June
The Peasant and the King Memorial Freeway
(I-5 southern Oregon)
This isn’t where it all began –that was in my
mind back in Rutland, Vermont., a whole other
story—but the germinating seed that was P&K
definitely sprouted and blossomed along this
2 ½ hour stretch of Interstate 5 between Med-
ford and Eugene. I was driving for a courier
service, and my daily routine was to leave Med-
ford at 5:30ish AM with northbound packages,
drop them in Roseburg and Eugene, and come
back with the southbound stuff. I had been along
this route a few times over the years, but not many;
I-5 was never a primary freight corridor for my
employers. But after five round-trips a week for a
while, I felt like I could drive it blindfolded. That’s
what gave me the idea to work on P&K while actually
driving, not just on breaks –not just watching helplessly
as new ideas and materials floated up from the mind’s
eye and crammed themselves into the warehouse of my brain, or spilled out into the cab of the van or out the window. It was probably
the exact creative stimulus I’d been looking for, and the results, I must say, have been prolific; the work was better than anything I’ve
ever done, in quantity and quality. Writing genuinely felt like a vocation for the first time; I had tried to make it so in the past but it
never was. I need the right material of course, but for whatever reason, I also need motion; I need a big window in front of me that’s
always changing, not a beautiful-but-familiar view, or a wall.
I finished the first draft of P&K about a half-hour north of Medford on the day I got fired. I had a lousy relationship with the owner of
the company –I’ll be kind and leave it at that. There was such a tremendous sense of accomplishment that I really didn’t care at all,
and the remarkable timing of it all only helped convince me that I was in that dead-end, $8.50 and hour job for reasons that were far
beyond money or running packages. Getting fired was like God saying, “Well done –now take this to the next level.” (Actually all my
work/job hunting experience in the Rogue Valley seemed to point me directly to another go-around in long-haul driving. How many
people in our lives do we want to flip off and curse their names, when in fact they are only guiding us toward God-given paths we
would never volunteer to take!)
So one last hurrah for me on the ol’ P&K Highway as an Ashland resident.
Made the drop and I’m headin’ back empty, this time to stay. I’ll get one full day of hometime anyway, leave Friday to beat the 4th of
July holiday lull in freight. Bray and I both want the miles. We started moving into the new apartment this morning. I am overjoyed
for her to have her own place, where she can set it up and live exactly how she wants. It puts us even more on equal terms, since that
is what I have in my rolling home. Aubray thinks I’m too White Trash because I’m content to use things like milk crates and sleep on
a mattress on the floor. Maybe she’s right, or maybe I’m just perpetually 19. Now I guess I’m free to be either, hot-diggity-dog!
Back to the “main thread.”
Actually, I’m going to resume when I ship out on Friday. My head isn’t in the right space for this, nor should it be. I have emotional
responsibilities while I’m still here, to Bray and myself. I invited her to come with me to Springfield today but she declined, saying she
needed to pack and wanted to go to Wednesday service at ACF. When I got back to the house she was depressed, and wished she had
gone with me, and I realized that I wished she’d come too. This move (and separation) won’t be without some emotion. I need to be
here in full while I’m here, something I’ve never been able to do for her very well. It will be a welcome change. HC- Ashland, Ore.
© 2004 by Hermit Crab
a Fish Out Of Water production
Next --Chapter 20
