I clock in early so I can clock out early and by 3:15, I...
I clock in early so I can clock out early and by 3:15, I’m just ahead of the really ugly traffic. Still, it’s speed up and slow down, stop and go for about 35 miles. The road finally opens up and it feels like I am breaking free from a set of invisible chains. I open up the bike, go hard and fast for a while, then, convinced that the chains are gone, I slow down, breathe, soak up the scenery.
I once said that I take these unmapped and open-ended trips because I am looking for something, metaphysically speaking, and that’s true. It would help if I knew what it was, exactly, that I was looking for. I don’t. I just know that a couple pieces of the puzzle are missing and I’d really like to find them.
And these guys are no help. They don’t even know what I’m talking about.
Shortly after I cross the West Virginia state line, the temperature drops fast and far so I start looking for a place to stop for the night. I drive into a little town with a band setting up in the town square and am pretty sure I’ve found my place. I park the bike on Main Street and walk around. There are plenty of people out, many of them carrying folding chairs, following the music which is just beginning to play. I follow it too, walking past the usual small town storefronts—hardware, pharmacy, restaurants—and a couple not so typical, a store of fine chocolates and a pawn shop advertising guns, gold and silver.
The band is good. They are five guys playing a mix of pop, rock, R&B, timeless songs that everyone knows. The crowd is still in the awkward stage of standing around with their hands in their pockets, smiling, nodding. “Let’s get this thing going,” a lady with long gray-hair says, grabbing the arm of a girl of about thirteen or fourteen.
“Gram, no!” the teenager says, hanging back, embarrassed.
“Come on, you didn’t spend an hour doing your hair just to stand here.”
The girl isn’t budging but when they start doing KC and the Sunshine Band, grandma’s gone! She’s out on the lawn by herself, loud and proud. A group of little kids joins her. Then a couple other women join, one with a baby on her hip. They are quite the crew, really getting into it, singing, “shake your booty, shake your boot-ay!”
Some guy comes up and introduces himself as Jim something or other. “I’m hoping to represent West Virginia in the House,” he says, “so I’m out here saying hi to folks.” He’s about mid-fifties, dressed in a tee-shirt, jeans and very white tennis shoes. I tell him I am not a resident of West Virginia and am just passing through.
“Welcome to our great state,” he says and informs me that this is the Apple Harvest Festival and they have fun things going on all weekend. “I took a picture of the schedule,” he says and takes out his phone. Turns out, he is not from this part of the state and hits a different festival every weekend. “This town’s a little smaller than it looked on the internet. I pretty near met everyone already.” He hands me his phone then so I can read the weekend events. I feel a little weird taking a stranger’s phone but I take a cursory look, hand it back and thank him.
He scans the crowd and says, “Yep. Talked to all of them.” He admits that he’s new to being a politician and that he’s only running because God called him to do it. “My wife and I prayed about it,” he says, “with all the craziness going on in the country and so, here I am. Stepping out in faith and obedience.”
I don’t know quite what to say to that so I just say, “Sounds interesting.”
“Let me tell ya, brother, it sure is.” Just then a young couple wanders into the crowd and Jim follows them. “I’m running for the House of Representatives,” he tells them, “and I’m just out here saying hi to folks.”
A very drunk guy comes up to me and asks if I’m mad at him. “Nope,” I say. “Not a bit.”
“Everybody’s mad at me. I’m just trying to have fun.”
“I can see that.”
“Are you mad at me?”
“No sir.”
He wanders off looking disturbingly like a walker from the television show, The Walking Dead. A policewoman is watching him with her hands on her hips. The band wants to know if everyone is having fun. Everyone cheers. “Does anyone here know how to do the Cupid Shuffle?” Another cheer goes up, the music starts and the lawn is full.
I walk back to the bike to go in search of a room for the night.
