the last time I drove across the country…

 

*****

 

Road Trips

The Wasps

 

 

I had driven for about 12 hours that day through the hot, empty lands of Minnesota and South Dakota. Although it was only early spring, the temperature had stood at over 100 degrees all day. After leaving the area of Minneapolis-St. Paul, the highway had been mine alone. I had turned west on US 12 and slipped into the vast emptiness that lies at the heart of America. The road ran to the horizon in a thread broken only by the heat waves above the blacktop.

My car had been running hot the whole trip, and today was the worst by far. I knew there were several pinholes in the radiator, and any kind of speed above 60 mph would send the temp gauge off the scale. I had four gallons of water and 1 of antifreeze, but I knew that if the engine got too hot it would seize up, and no amount of water would help me then. I kept my eye on the temp and oil pressure gauges, and said a silent prayer for the comfort of the car, promising it a much needed rest if it got me across the country this one last time.

The towns became smaller and further apart as I drove deeper into the plains. The few cars that I saw sped by my slower pace, heedless of me as our lives crossed for those few seconds. I was as alone as one can become on the public roads. I stopped only for gas and more radiator sealer, or to let the engine cool some.

At Noon, I stopped at a lake to rest the two of us, the car and myself worn to the point of dangerous lapses of performance. I waited for the engine to cool and searched for a bathroom in vain. The park was not yet officially open and the bathrooms were padlocked. A grove of trees served as a bathroom though, and a very pleasant one–birds flew down the avenue of trees and squirrels chattered at my intrusion into their world. The infamous Minnesota mosquitoes soon found me, putting an end to my ramblings in that tiny grove.

I gave my car a drink of sealer, the second can of the day, and stuffed some dope into my pipe. My supply of pot had been reduced on the long journey, this being my fifth day on the road west, and I was of consequence careful to use only the minimum needed to dull the reality of nursing a doubtful car across four thousand miles. The bugs would not leave me alone and sitting in the car was worse than sitting in a sauna so I cut short my visit and got back on the road, wondering, as I had for five days whether the car would make it this time.

Moving brought some relief from the heat, although I had the heater running to help cool the engine, and the bugs soon disappeared from the car. The last one wanted a ride though and didn’t leave me for almost half an hour.

The road was endless and I drove with the radio tuned to AM stations to catch the news and weather reports, fearing that a tornado or storm would catch me unwarned and without shelter. The radio, however, only predicted more heat. I toiled along the highway as fast as I thought safe for the car and continually watched the oil and temp gauges. The oil pressure gauge was important too, because the temp was so high that gauge was almost meaningless. If the engine started to go, the oil pressure would drop, and I hoped to see that before disaster caught up with me and ended my travels before I was through. The miles and the hours crawled by together, and I stopped only for gas or to load my pipe.

Sometime during the long afternoon, I crossed into South Dakota. A sign was my only clue; the land did not change for those artificial boundaries know as State lines. If anything changed, it became hotter. I’ll always remember South Dakota as a hot place.

When I had left Rhode Island, it was still the tail end of winter, and I had passed into spring in Ohio. Minnesota had brought me into summer–the day I’d been there had been a record breaker for that time of year, and I hadn’t had an once of cool since. This of course made the cars problem more pronounced, and I worried all day about this new dimension.

US 212 ran into US 14 and I joined the new road, intending to meet I-90 later that day, but that was still far away. US 14 turned almost immediately into a dusty gravel road, and a sign announced that the State of South Dakota was renewing the surface of this important highway and asked my patience while the repairs were being made. It being a Saturday, there were of course no repairs being done that day and farm trucks and big rigs were the only traffic.

After ten miles of beating the car along, it became apparent that it was time for both of us to stop. A stream appeared at the side of the road, and this being as nice enough place for me, I stopped. I left the car idling to help it cool off, and walked to the edge of the stream, where my shoes sank into the gluey mud hidden by the road dust that covered everything. I cursed and flailed about, trying to extract my shoes from the gluey mud, and succeeded in covering them with mud. I added some water to the stream and went back to the car to find that the temp gauge had not noticeably changed, but I shut it off anyway and opened the drain cock in the skillful way I’d learned so as to avoid third-degree burns; these not being conducive to pleasurable driving…

As I busied myself with the task of draining and refilling the cooling system, a State truck pulled up and a kind-looking old man offered assistance; but I had the situation in hand, and as he didn’t have a radiator for a Mazda RX-2 in the back of his truck, I thanked him anyway. He wished me well and went on his way, one of the kind souls that still live in America.

After finishing the job there was nothing to keep me there, so I added my dust to the rest and continued the trip.

Night fell before I reached I-90, but I had already succumbed to Road Hypnosis, and there was nothing to do but continue the endless drive. Monotony and boredom had been my only companions for days, and I hardly noticed the fall of night before I had to turn on the lights. That only served to remind me that the charging system was not entirely with me on this trip, but that was the same as the cooling system–nothing I could really do without more money, which did not exist outside of a wish.

Boredom increased as darkness shut out the world outside of my headlight’s glow, and I was restless and Ill at ease. Finally I did something I had never done before–I pulled out my pistol and took a shot at a road sign. The report was deafening and the flash blinded

me. I became terrified that someone had seen me; that the bullet (which missed the sign) had hit someone; that even now, patrol cars were scrambling to apprehend this dangerous maniac and lock him up. But of course nothing happened, except that I wasn’t bored anymore…

Road Hypnosis had become Road Paranoia, and I knew it was time to stop and rest; preferably in a real bed and not on the car seat again. I-90 was very close, and the map showed that the town of Belvidere was the next inhabited area, so I set that as my next stop and motored on.

Belvidere was a gas station, a diner, and a motel. The diner and the station were both closed, so I went to the motel and got a room for the night. A shower and a snack from my provisions set me up, and I sat down to watch TV. There was a Clint Eastwood movie running, and I settled in to watch it, hoping to clear the Road Paranoia from my tired brain.

 

I was absorbed as only an exhausted man can be, so I didn’t immediately notice the wasp. It flew around the room, buzzing angrily, and noticed me, the intruder. I was naked, it was so hot, and I felt utterly panicked by the appearance of the wasp. I am deathly afraid of stinging insects, and the combination of this unwelcome terror and Road Paranoia produced an almost overwhelming paralysis in me.

Terror brought anger, and I got back into my clothes to protect myself from the horrible insect. The newspaper that I had bought in Ohio came to hand as a weapon, and I began to hunt down the wasp so as to destroy it.

It was hard to see, so I turned on all the lights, carefully eying the wasp, hoping to kill it quickly. It was clever; surely it must have sensed it’s approaching death, and it avoided me several times, but I finally caught it and smacked it as hard as I could. It didn’t die right away, so I smacked it again. This time, it lay still and I began to breathe normally again.

The second wasp was quieter–I didn’t notice it until it landed on the wall behind the TV. I nearly screamed, I was so startled, but I recovered and shortly dispatched this wasp, or so I thought. The first wasp was gone… and the second one came back to life a moment later. Now there were two angry wasps flying around my room, and it was battle-stations again.

Twenty minutes of flight-pursuit-flight later, and both wasps lay at my feet, as dead as wasps ever get, and I was congratulating myself when the third wasp showed up. I was beginning to feel like a character in a Steven King story as I chased this wasp down and ground it into the carpet, just to make sure it was dead.

I stumbled back to the bed, completely exhausted, and laid down. Just before I went to sleep, I looked over at the dead wasps, but they weren’t there anymore. I pulled the covers over my head and tried to sleep, but the wasps had disappeared into thin air, and it was along time before I fell asleep…

 

The next morning as I was leaving, I stopped by the office and talked to the desk clerk. I told her about the wasps and the terror that I’d felt.

She said, "Oh you should have called and said something. We could have moved you." "At 3 in the morning?" I said, unbelievingly, and told her how the bodies had vanished. Her expression was enough for me-unrested and unbelieved , I got in the car and motored on with days to go before I was done with that drive.

 

April 1985

KAM