Fais peur au lion avant qu'il ne te fasse peur.
Omar IBN AL-KHATTAB


Day 16

am

pm

Rides = 8
Arrival = Alexandria
km travelled = 512
$ spent = $3.50 (breakfast + bowl of chili)
Time passed on the road = 8 am - 4 am
km walked = 15 +



What a weird day...

I left Chicago early in the morning. It took me a good hour before I could figure out how to get back on the road. The smog was already thick. The night did not make any dent in it. As I was walking and waiting on the shoulder of the highway, with my thumb in the air, I noticed that the ants looked drugged or something. They were either at the end of their life cycle or lacking oxygen. They didn't do anything really, they were kind of walking very slowly in small circles as if they only had legs on one side...(?) The first car that stopped was a cab. The driver said I looked lost. He did not make me pay. He drove me to an excellent spot for hitchhiking. From there I got a ride with a guy who spoke just a little bit of French. He wanted to practice.

"Hey Man, how are you? Where are you going with all that stuff?" he said looking at my belongings. "You're going to Canada? Far out man! Oh! You came from Canada, far out! Hey man, tou parler fransais? Je appris sa a lecole" he said with a voice full of pride and happiness. "je vas in that direction for 40 miles." And that is where I went, 40 miles up the road.

I was just standing there on this long road, for no more than 5 minutes, when an old beat-up truck stopped. He had a load of scrap metal and was travelling at the dizzying speed of 30 mph! The truck was an old, very old machine. After 30 minutes on the road we stalled, the motor was giving off some fumes. Tim, the driver opened the hood revealing a motor that looked more like an artwork. There were wooden wedges and sticks, and wires going from side to side, holding the whole thing together. He took a screwdriver and twisted a wire, making sure that the big stick on the side was solidly fixed. This must have been the solution because after that the motor seemed fine. Tim dropped me on the outskirts of Milwaukee where I ended up entering a restricted freeway. A police car came thundering toward me, stopping about 6 inches from my knees. The officer never got out, he was yelling at the top of his lungs though his PA system. It sounded like the voice was coming out of the fender. I quickly understood that this was my cue to get the hell out of there. Moving on to a more accessible highway, I got one ride with a beach boy and another with a Born Again. He gave me a little pamphlet with the title: Jesus is a Door.

Like a little frog I kept hopping from place to place until Madison where I hit the Jackpot lift! A guy called Paul stopped with his air conditioned Mercedes. An 8 hour drive, 512 miles! Paul treated me like I was a royalty on a walkabout.

"My cigarettes are right there", he said, glancing at the pack of Lucky Strikes on the dashboard, "you just go ahead and smoke whatever you want".

We stopped at a couple of restaurants, where he treated me. He kept saying: "Go ahead eat, whatever you want" This sounded fine with me.

Paul was a member of the Naval Combat Demolition Units during the Second World War. He was scuba diving in enemy ports, putting bombs under vessels and blowing up other strategic targets. He said that he thought he was going to die many times and swore that if he was to survive he would never again go into the water. He kept mentioning how cold the water was and how scared he felt. He had been living inland in Florida for more than 30 years and never put his feet in the wet stuff again. His hobby now was to be a Radio Amateur , and of course a CB radio operator. During the 8 hour drive he talked to everyone on the road, getting words from truckers of accidents ahead of us, behind us, the prices of goods, useful and useless directions, forecast of weather- accurate and not, tips on renovations, etc. Stories were flying as fast as we were going. This was a smooth ride.

1:30 am
We were now in Minnesota. Paul was turning right to Alexandria. I got out and thanked him. He had given me his address in Florida and mentioned one more time, "Make sure you come by when you're in the Sunshine State!"

The Mercedes drove away. I was in the middle of nowhere. Frogs or crickets were singing in the fields. I could see at the distance the dim lights of a truck stop and started to walked in that direction. There was a little mist, almost a fog floating in the air. It was really quiet.


2:am
The truck stop was bustling with activity. It seemed that finding a ride should not be too hard. I went to work right away.

- "Can you give me a ride?"

- "I am going to Winnipeg, do you think you can give me a lift?"

- "Are you going north by any chance?"

After 10 minutes a trucker said, "Sure, If your pack fits in this box, I will give you a ride." He had open this small trap on the side of his truck. I pushed my pack sac as hard as I could. It went in!

He was pulling a big load but the truck itself was rather small. I climbed into the cabin and took a seat. The trucker was a big man. Bigger than his seat. We left the oasis. We were not talking. The trucker was busy shifting the gears of his machine. Because the cabin was so small, he kept brushing the side of my leg. I kept making myself smaller with every shift. We were gaining speed. The road was dark. The fog seemed thicker than earlier on, when I was watching the Mercedes disappear. The trucker seemed going faster than he should have. We were driving at 80 mph and because of that speed, the visibility was bad. He was looking at the white line on the right side of the road, on the shoulder, to guide his truck. After 10 minutes he broke the silence by saying, "Give me a blow job."

I froze. I did not say a word. He said it again but added, "Give me a blow job or I will kill you...."

I started to shake. My heart was pounding. I was terrified and I did not know what to do. He kept saying the same thing over and over. His voice was burning like molten lava. We were flying like a bullet on the road. I could not see anything but the reflection of the trucks lights on the fog. The trucker's presence was filling the whole cabin. His breath was covering everything. I was trapped. I could not jump. I grabbed my shoulder bag and opened my knife inside it. I imagined planting the blade inside his skin. It felt gross. I was trying to visualize every possible scenario. I was fleeing, killing and abused at the same time. I lost track of time. The trucker suddenly said, "It was a joke."

I did not answer. We continued the trip in a heavy silence until he stopped at another truck stop. I jumped out and grabbed my pack-sac and stood in front of him. I swore at him in French. I was trembling like a leaf in the night. I went into the restaurant and took a table. The waitress came. I ordered coffee after coffee. After some time a trucker came and ask me if I was OK. I probably looked like a ghost. I told him what happened. He was really concerned and asked for details about the trucker and his cargo. What was the colour of the truck, what company was he working for and so forth. I told him everything I could remember. He said before leaving, "We will squeeze him!"


It was 4 in the morning. I was still alive.

PS Before leaving, my Mother gave me a medal of St. Christopher, Patron Saint of Travellers. I felt that it had protected me.


-Daniel





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