Nebraska 1978

 

They stared at me like I had just stepped out of a flying saucer.

Sometimes I'll lay in bed trying to fall asleep, but my brain won't let me. It starts with a short memory triggered by something that happened earlier in the day. It's like pulling a loose thread only to have the whole garment unravel. Last night it was a photo of my old house from almost fifty years ago. That made me think of the cat I had at the time, Amanda. Which made me think of the time she climbed the Christmas tree, and rode it crashing to the ground in the middle of the night. That reminded me of the fact that when I sold that house, Amanda and I loaded up a 1965 Chevy pickup truck and moved to California. (Yes, I kept the cat because by this time she was my best companion. Instead of getting rid of the cat, I quit putting up Christmas trees.) I then remembered driving that pickup truck across the country on interstate 80, towing my eighteen foot sailboat also loaded with more crap. My memories continued. Somewhere west of Lincoln, Nebraska, while listening to Bob Seger's album, Stranger in Town, the Chevy's engine blew up. It was late winter, it was nighttime, and it was cold. What I don't remember is how I got a tow truck to come and get me. I do remember being stuck in a cheap motel next to interstate 80, in very rural Nebraska with Amanda. It took three days for the local mechanic to find another engine for the truck, and install it. I was bored, so on the second night I decided to go into the little town about a mile south of the interstate. The town was very small and had only one tavern. I went into that tavern. You would think that I had walked into a stranger's living room. The patrons that were there stared at me, and they didn't look happy. This was when I still had longish hair and everybody in the bar had flat top, buzz cuts. For about half an hour I sat there, and the only person who talked to me was the bartender. All he said was, "That's a dollar." as he put the gin and tonic I ordered in front of me. Which was another thing I remembered. When I ordered a gin and tonic, everybody in the bar looked at me as if I had just ordered a glass of piss. This included the bartender who had to search for the bottle of gin. 

My brain wouldn't stop. Memory after memory flooded my mind. Finally, after not being able to fall asleep and not wanting to lay in bed remembering all these weird things I'd done forty five years ago, I got up and went into the kitchen. I ate a small bowl of Cheerios, let Scout lap up the bottom of the bowl, and went back to bed.