Kookshow, Chapter 7: Interstate

 

c. 2025 Rod Ice

All rights reserved

(7-25)

 

 

Traveling across the continent via interstate highways was not so thrilling as a ride over old Route 66. Something that I remembered my late father describing, from a family adventure he enjoyed in 1949. But with Carter Polk III at the wheel of his big rig, my freedom to watch and enjoy was magnified by a lack of responsibility. I took photos with my cell phone, made blog posts as we rolled cross-country, and enjoyed gastronomic delights of all kinds. My professional chauffer seemed to know every hole-in-the-wall eatery between Ohio and California. His skill navigating the roads was laudable. But having knowledge of every point for gas and grub along the way made him even more noteworthy.

 

He wore dark sunglasses, and a red bandana tied in the back. The solar heat quickly chapped my own face, despite being covered with shaggy, gray hair.

 

“Ya comfortable over there, old man? We got a long-ass ride ahead! How long has it been since ya went on a quest like this?”

 

I had to sort through memories, before answering. Sobriety had me slightly confused when pondering details.

 

“I went to Las Vegas on my second honeymoon. But we took a jet. It was an impulsive thing, both of us wanted to try something completely new. We booked a room at the Palace Station, that was where the alleged robbery went down with O.J. Simpson and the sports memorabilia guys. In later years, I thought that was an amusing factoid to share...”

 

My host grinned and whistled at this confession.

 

“Gawdamm! Did ya bring home souvenirs?”

 

I nodded while remembering that a ‘do not disturb’ sign from the hotel was still hanging on a doorknob in my home office. A bedroom in the back of my trailer.

 

“I got postcards somewhere. At the time, it was to remember our romantic getaway. But the marriage didn’t last long. She bailed out when I was in between jobs, and broke. That plot twist was hard to accept, but it actually paid dividends with my literary work. I gained a dark edge to the writing, after that. I figure it was a worthwhile exchange...”

 

Carter shot me a sideways glance of naked astonishment.

 

“Ya got yer ass kicked, and it was a good thing??”

 

I shrugged and sighed while recalling my marital split.

 

“Sort of, that’s how things go in the creative world. Every experience yields some kind of enlightenment. A punch in the teeth can inspire many chapters of good prose...”

 

The veteran trucker shook his head, while doing an eye-roll.

 

“If ya say so, buddy! All I ever got from taking a damn fist to the chops was a sore jaw!”

 

Over years of unemployment and disability, I had grown accustomed to keeping track of time by the number of days spent drinking on my front porch. Having my bloodstream cleansed of alcohol meant that the environment in which I had landed now seemed oddly sharp and in focus. This stark contrast to normal conditions rattled my nerves. I was careening and off balance. Yet hopeful for the rendezvous with Kookshow Baby that awaited.

 

“I think this trip is a leap of faith, maybe. I’m headed west to see a woman that I don’t really know, couldn’t identify in person, and might not ultimately like at all. How’s that for a high-stakes gamble? At my age, and meager level of existence, I don’t think it matters much. I’m chasing a fantasy. A woman on the radio, a voice echoing in my head...”

 

Polk stiffened while piloting his spiffy, 18-wheeled beast.

 

“Wait, what the hell? You’ve never met before? Not even a kiss or a squeeze... or anything? Shit, that’s insane, dude, like something a high school kid would do!”

 

I was defensive, and red with embarrassment.

 

“It’s not quite that reckless, give me some slack before judging. I’ve been a long-distance associate of her benefactors, for several years. She lives on the property of friends in southern Cali. At least, I believe that’s the case...”

 

My partner in motion threw back his head, and bellowed with the intensity of a carnival barker.

 

“Whaaaat, ya believe that’s tha case? In other words, yer guessing? Shit, brother, ya don’t really know fer sure? So, I’m makin’ this run because you’ve got a bulge in yer pants over some chica that might not even exist?”

 

My mouth had turned uncommonly dry. I needed a drink.

 

“That’s a rough characterization, to be honest. Let’s say that I’ve listened to hours of her archived shows. Meanwhile, she did connect with a couple of video calls on the Messenger app. I thought she looked decidedly cute, at least from what I could see...”

 

Polk laughed until his ribs ached. He hammered the steering wheel with a rhythmic cadence.

 

“I always knew ya artsy types were different, but gadwamm bruh, that’s a stretch! I agreed ta haul yer ass all the way across this big ol’ country, just on a whim and a whiff of female tail?”

 

His tone offended my sensibilities.

 

“Look, it’s not what the kids refer to as a booty call, okay? That cheapens the appeal of where I think she stands, intellectually. Who I think she is, what she is... as she says, ‘a strong, independent woman.’ I respect that in her. I think we might be kindred spirits. Maybe? There was only one way to find out, and this is it...”

 

The professional driver smacked his dashboard, and cursed.

 

“Fuggg... It’s all good, I had this run to Los Angeles on the schedule, anyway. We’re haulin’ premium cargo, beer from Great Lakes Brewing. Dig this – a whole trailer of Christmas Ale! They don’t get that stuff out on the coast. It goes for a good price at bars and restaurants, and wherever! Then I got a backhaul on some merch for one of the dollar-store chains. They managed to sneak it here from China without paying the tariffs, how I have no clue. I don’t ask stupid questions, ya know? That makes life a lot more simple.”

 

The expert navigator continued to babble about roads and routes, and his roster of responsibilities. Yet I had quit listening. Only one thought held my attention, that of reaching the abandoned drive-in, Cult Radio A-Go-Go, and finally, Kookshow Baby, herself.

 

Anything else was background noise. Static to be ignored.