Mysterious Truck Driver

In early 2000, I was a 26 year old contestant in a karaoke contest at a Skowhegan, Maine bowling alley/restaurant and lounge. If you made it to the finals you had the chance of winning $1000. I was excited because I loved to sing and we could really use the money. Back then, I was working three jobs and helping my, now former, husband get through nursing school. He would be graduating in just over a month and starting what would be his lifelong career. Myself, I was a medical biller for a mental health facility making just over $9/hour. I was also working for a temp agency and sang in a band almost every weekend until the wee hours of the morning.

 

The few trips we had made out of the state included Virginia, Florida, Tennessee and Washington, DC. This time, however, I would have to be making a trip alone. Washington D.C. in the dead of night was going to be quite the challenge.

 

The evening that I won my preliminary round of the contest I was told the date of the finals. My jaw dropped. It was the only weekend that I would not even be in Maine. The people who ran the contest looked at me incredulously. They told me I HAD to be there because I had a really good shot at winning. I needed to make a decision.

 

The reason I would not be able to participate was because we had promised my sister, who had never driven anywhere by herself, that we would travel to DC with her for the weekend. She was a huge fan of the television show, Emergency!, and her favorite actor, Randolph Mantooth, was going to be there that same weekend of the contest. He was the guest of honor at the Smithsonian’s National Museum of American History. There was going to be a display of memorabilia from the show and he would be there to introduce it. She really wanted to meet him.

 

I couldn’t be in two places at once.

 

When I told my husband he asked what we were going to do. We talked with my sister and hatched the plan to have him drive down with her in her car and spend the one night in the hostel we had all found in a travel book. I would drive down as soon at the contest was over and meet them at the Washington Monument the next morning at 8am.

 

At 5 am the day of the contest I wished my husband a safe trip and he left to meet my sister to travel the nearly 600 miles to their destination. I tried to go back to sleep. I took the day off specifically for that purpose but to no avail. I had always been a morning person and that day was no different.

 

I packed a light bag for the trip because I knew, win or lose, we were staying overnight and traveling back the next day. As luck would have it, I won the contest and the $1000 prize!. It was 10 o’clock at night and after changing my clothes I climbed into my 1993 Mercury Tracer and headed for the highway.

 

In 2000, I had an actual map. That’s it. No GPS. No cell phone. No English woman’s voice on an app to help guide me. It was me and the Rand McNally Road Atlas of the United States. I would travel I-95 South the entire way down.

 

As soon as I hit the Massachusetts border I noticed something peculiar. There were no cars. The only vehicles on the road were tractor trailers. When you’re under five feet tall in a compact car and there are semis in front, behind and to each side of you, you start to feel a bit nervous. I kept wondering if they could even see me at all. I found an opportunity to get to the right travel lane. I put my blinker on and it just so happened the truck in front of me put its blinker on. I moved over and so did they. When he would change lanes I did as well. This went on for a little while.

 

I finally had to pull over. Being awake for almost 20 hours was starting to take its toll on me. It was nearly 2 am and, though I had packed an overnight bag, I had failed to pack snacks. I saw the sign for the next rest stop and realized the truck was also going to rest as well. I parked my car and went to the McDonald’s to order food and a drink with caffeine. I never drank caffeinated drinks but I needed to stay awake for the rest of the drive. I looked at around at the people coming inside the building wondering if the truck driver who had been my guide was one of the patrons filing in.

 

I finished my late night snack, used the facilities and headed out. I filled the car with gas and started back on my way. I pulled back onto the highway with another six hour drive ahead of me.

 

About ten minutes down the road a truck pulled up alongside me and I saw a light go on in the cab. I saw a manly hand wave at me but that was all I could see. I turned my light on and waved back. Our lights went out and I heard his air horn blare. He sped up and pulled in front of me.

 

My truck driver was back!

 

Sure enough, the license plate was the same. It’s hard to forget when you were staring at the back end of the same truck for hours. Together until we reached DC the semi and I changed lanes. The driver would always wait for an opportunity to make certain I had enough space to change lanes with him.

 

The sun was starting to come up and the miles melted away. I started to see signs for the DC area. I knew I had to start following them. My hand reached for the signal but I didn’t really want to. I had followed the same truck for nearly 400 miles. I considered it and its driver my guardian angels. I flicked the blinker on to take the exit and I could see his hand wave out his window. I rolled down mine and waved back. He blew his horn and I exited the highway to find the Monument and my waiting family.

 

I’ll never know who he was or what triggered him to stay with me for so long or remember the name of the company he drove for. All I will remember is that this driver was a friend. He made my trip more enjoyable, less stressful and definitely more interesting. 10-3. If you're a trucker, you'll know what that means.

Just Me and My Dad

It's not often a forty-two year old woman gets to sit at the foot of her father and read to him.

But today I did.

I visited my mother and father after work this evening and brought them some information I thought he might like to hear. My sister, Audrey, was finishing up their few dishes in the sink when I arrived.

My dad is a proud veteran of the US Navy having served during the time of the Korean War. He was aboard the USS Newport News from 1956 until 1957. In their home hangs a beautiful picture of the ship he was on. They had nicknamed it 'The Grey Ghost from the East Coast'. When I was little I would ask him questions about the 'boat' as I called it and he would point out where he manned the five inch guns.

He never talked about being in the armed forces much. Every now and then I bring it up and a story might happen to make its way out to be told. My dad is a few months shy of eighty-one so it's understandable not remembering too much of things that happen sixty years ago.

But remember he does.

I sat on the floor next to his recliner and started to read aloud the article of his ship. It was interesting to find out it was the very first fully-air conditioned ship in the US Navy. When I said a certain Admiral's name, my mother started to laugh and said "that's the one he punched". She didn't elaborate any further. My dad didn't expand on it either. I guess that's a story for another time.

It mentioned many different cities the ship had visited: Barcelona, New Orleans, Balboa, Guantanamo Bay. The most fascinating place to me was the Panama Canal. I had not read the entire piece before I arrived so I was amazed when I read it. I looked up at him and asked "YOU went through the Panama Canal?"

Not missing a beat he replied "Well, you had to. If you didn't, you'd have to go all the way around to get where we were going."

That's when a story came to light. He remembered when one of his shipmates was down in the boiler room. He radioed up he wanted a cigarette. One of the crewmen brought it down and when the soldier lit it up, the room exploded. Two men died and another two were injured. Ten minutes later, he said, he was radioed again saying he had a phone call from his mother. Thinking something had happened to her, he ran to pick it up. He asked if she was alright and she said she was fine. Then she asked if he was. Confused he said he was and wondered why she was calling. Somehow it made the news that there was an explosion aboard his ship! The Grey Ghost's phone lines were 'blowing up' with calls from worried moms and dads making sure their sailors were unharmed.

Then, he gave me a request.

My husband, Chad, and I are taking our blended family on its first family vacation. We had told my parents a few months ago were were headed to Washington, D.C. to take in all the monuments and museums.

My father said at the Korean Memorial it has a computer program inside its building where you can search for a soldier's name and the time they served. My father has asked me to go and search for him. I hope I find him. I'll do more research on what he's talking about but if his name is anywhere in Washington, D.C. I want to find it and show him.

I wonder how many more stories I'll hear from him. The unusual thing about my father is he hardly ever tells the same story twice. They're always new. At least to me they are. When we get back from our trip, I look forward to sitting with him and showing him all the amazing ways our country has remembered its soldiers. Most of all, I just look forward to spending time with him.