Odyssey Of The Open Road

By Nelson H. Grau

There are times in this life when a near-death experience causes a person to pause and look back over the years, to consider the moments that have meant the most in this life. For the author, these were the years spent answering the sirens-call to a life on the road, of leaving hearth-and-home to live out of a big rig and become part of the fabric of the trucking culture of this great land. Follow the author down the highways and byways of our country as he attempts to explain the unexplainable: just what it is that motivates a person to sell-out to a life spent in perpetual motion; to the never-ending pursuit of the white line as the years roll away beneath their wheels. Of grizzled veterans who have sold-out to the life amidst the loss of so much on the home front. Of a man who possesses two homes, his truck and a sailboat, who lives the life of a virtual hermit-in-plain-sight. Read of a man with the means to pursue any life he may desire yet has chosen to chase a fading sunset into the western sky in a dressed-out Western Star. There are the tales of storms fought, of danger survived, and the never-ending pursuit of the revenue necessary to keep the wheels in motion. But so much more than any of this, is the encounter each of these road-warriors has with the mistress called the highway. Of the sirens-call she sends out to the chosen few that will pull them away from a staid existence; from a warm bed, a steady nine-to-five, and a life that is predictable to an extreme these men and women find they can no longer abide. Come along for the ride, it will be worth your time. And listen if you will for the call-of-the-road. She might just be speaking your name!

• Language: English
• Publisher: BooxAi
• Release date: Feb 8, 2024
• ISBN: 9789655788556

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

MATTERS OF THE HEART

Iwish it wasn’t so hot in here. Who thinks it needs to be this warm for folks who walk in the front door already wearing coats? Sweating again, darn it! Hate getting sweaty when out in a crowd. Maybe no one will notice. Down a couple more antacid pills. It must be something I ate.

Hey guys, let’s go over to that row. We’ve been down this row twice already. We needed to see what was over there, so we headed that way.

Hey, how did we get back here again? We circled right back to the same spot AGAIN!

What’s going on? I'm usually the human GPS, the person who's never lost, always equipped with directions to wherever we're headed next. Yet, somehow, I just can’t seem to navigate our way through this maze of aisles.

Are you okay? Donna asks again with a chuckle.

Still so very hot in here! I don’t recall placing this vice on my back and chest. A funny sensation of squeezing that comes and goes. It's probably just the cotton-pickin’ heat being so high! Plus, I had a chiropractor’s appointment yesterday afternoon. There you go; that explains it — just a few more antacid pills. I wonder what it was that I ate. Oh, wait, I know! I grabbed a Fast-Food on the way down, because I knew we would be at the show during our regular lunchtime. We were in a hurry, so naturally, I scarfed it down.

And how many antacid pills does that make?

Just a heartburn, Dear.

The RVs are all starting to look the same. Still feeling a little off, but hey, a rough week at work, maybe I just need some air.

You guys seen enough? Ready to head for Cicero?

The response is affirmative.

Now, where was that exit? Not there yet. Wow, why am I so lost today?

Are you okay?

She said it again, like some broken record! ‘Bout like to drive me crazy here!

Of course! It's just been a long week. We’ll get there, no worries.

The fresh air felt good at first, but then the vice began to tighten a bit more. Into the car, bucking up and off we’ll go!

Now, which way was the exit?

Being a veteran of some two million over-the-road miles, they all know I’m never lost!

Just a minute to think.

Well, let’s go!

Yeah, just… just getting settled in.

Which way is out? It all looks the same! And yet, nothing looks as it did when I drove in. Still not sure. I must do something! I move to go to the right. Not sure why, but I figure there is a 50/50 chance of being right, right? Man, this is messed up!

What are you doing?

Heading for Cicero.

Well, the exit is that way. She says, pointing to the left.

I knew that, of course… I knew that!

You’re really scaring me!

Just back off, woman; I got this!

It’s cool, Honey. I got this. No worries!

A couple of slightly nervous chuckles echoed from the back seat, offering a welcomed dose of comic relief. Cicero, here we come!

Maybe I’ll just sit in the car while they get out and look around. To be honest, it’s a bit on the chilly side, sucky weather! But wait, the dealer will be closing soon! They can’t seem to locate two of the stock numbers they wanted to see, so I guess I better help look. Out into the cold, better move fast!

What were those numbers again?!

Still sweating, even out here in the cold. Pop a few more antacid pills — a strange feeling of heaviness.

Got to get in better shape!

We’re combing the lot in a highly energized state, but cannot seem to find the RV’s we came to see. I somehow get separated from the group. Standing on the upper level of this facility, I shout into the wind, trying to see where everyone is located. They’re completely out of view, simply vanished.

Maybe they’ve found one of the targets.

I yell at the top of my lungs, and for just a moment, I get the feeling that I’m not making a sound, that I’m alone on a vast plain, calling out to no one. I look all about for anyone, but I am quite alone, separated and it’s cold, so very cold. A shiver runs up my spine, a sensation of being abandoned, all by myself in a threatening situation where I have no say in the outcome, but then, there they are, coming back into view!

Oh well, we tried. My sister-in-law says. Maybe they sold those two units and just haven’t updated their webpage.

Yup, I’ve had enough. Let’s get some supper and head to the hotel. I offer.

Sounds good to me.

And so we go. A local sports restaurant will suffice. I ordered something very spicy because, why? I like spicy food and it’s fantastic! I watched the onslaught of sporting events on the dozen or so TV’s spread around the place and forgot just how crappy I felt today. You know the thought: A good hot meal on a cold day makes all right with the world!

Back out into the cold, we get to the hotel in Cicero and check in. The room is nice and also has a good location to boot. Just wish I felt better.

Wow, that supper was fantastic! Maybe ate a bit too much, though.

She just asked how I really feel and if I think I should get looked at.

Crazy woman, anyway. Love you, honey, but seriously?

Really. She says, You’ve not been right all day.

It’s cool. I hear myself say, Just the supper I had. And I sneak a couple more antacids.

The evening wears on. There is no reprieve. Unless you count the minuscule moments, and I mean slight instances, when the pressure eases just a bit. I decide they’re proof enough that I’m doing fine. I think I’ll just go to bed and get some sleep; it’s 9:00 P.M. and it’s been a long day, so close enough.

Sure, I am glad we didn’t try to drive all the way home tonight. I mumble as I crawl into bed, having no inkling of the weight of those words.

I managed to fall into a fitful sleep. The dreams that come are disturbing, to say the least, all about death and dying. Everyone I see is dying around me, yet I can’t figure out what is causing it. I’m lost in a mental fog, and no matter how hard I try, I can’t maintain focus on what is happening. There’s danger and peril all about, yet I’m helpless to respond. I awaken around 10:00 P.M. and Donna is more than concerned by now. She is becoming more and more demanding.

If we are going to go somewhere to get you checked out, it had better be now!

It’s minutes later and I’m in the shower. Not at all sure how I put her off again and even less certain why I’m in the shower. I stand under the hot stream, feeling the warmth sinking through to my core, and somehow, I recall thinking this might fix it. I finished and towel-dried before stepping out onto the cold tile floor. I stand for a moment, staring into the mirror and nothing is really connecting in my brain. I see myself, or what I assume is me, but feel no connection to the person staring back. A complete disconnect exists between the me in the mirror and the real me that is slipping farther and farther away. For some reason, I slump onto the toilet and stare blankly out the bathroom door into the hotel room.

Are you feeling any better?

Not really sure.

Well, what are you doing?

Just sitting here for a minute.

THE OPPORTUNITY TO RESPOND IS DRAWING TO A CLOSE. TIME IS NOT OUR FRIEND IN MOMENTS SUCH AS THIS. THERE BEGINS THE PULLING AWAY FAZE OF THIS TRAGEDY AS I START TO SENSE MYSELF BEING PULLED OUT, DRAWN APART AND SEPARATED INTO TWO ENTITIES.

But it is more than that. I feel myself going into a trance-like state, just staring straight ahead at nothing. I have checked out mentally and feel I am somewhere between heaven and earth. This goes on for several minutes, as best I can tell. And then it happens. There it is! A moment of clarity that is more real than any moment of my life up to that point. A bright light switching on out of the fog, the words lighting up in my brain like the noonday sun:

BEING FOUND DEAD SITTING BUCK NAKED ON A TOILET SEAT IN A HOTEL ROOM IS NO WAY TO EXIT THIS LIFE!

I respond immediately, Hey, Babe.

Yeah?

You need to call them; we’re going to have to go somewhere tonight.

Ok. She responds with a measure of coolness that tells me she has already been expecting something to come.

She calls her brother and his wife to get them up, while I struggle to get some clothes on.

I said, We’ll just head on down to St. Joe's. We can all jump in the van and be there in no time.

Ok. She responds, helping me get into my sneakers.

A knock at the door. Donna is mostly dressed and runs to get it. In walks my sister-in-law. I fill her in on the plan as best I can, leaning against a dresser for stability. The room suddenly seems bigger. They seem farther away from me, like I am pulling away from them.

I look at Donna, Honey.

Yeah.

You need to hurry.

Ok. She utters and I look back at my sister-in-law; she is staring wide-eyed at me.

I’m getting an ambulance! She says firmly and races out the door before I can argue.

I look helplessly at Donna. She’s as cool as can be, at least on the outside.

It’s for the best. I think I hear her say.

And now her brother is at the door. It’s time to go! I manage to walk to the elevator, which is not surprisingly empty at 10:45 at night. We ride down as I protest that we’re going through all this for a bad case of indigestion.

Five hours from now, we’ll all be back here at the hotel and I’ll be the Village Idiot!

My brain is screaming in protest.

FALSE ALARM! Why are we getting an ambulance!?

The doors open and we shuffle into the lobby. The girl at the front desk is staring at me and I’m avoiding eye contact.

VILLAGE IDIOT HERE!

More screaming from the cerebral cortex.

Just a bad case of HEARTBURN! If it were anything more serious, I couldn’t be walking around, right?

I make my way across the lobby and settle into a lounge chair near the front door. Looking at my reflection in the hotel's plate glass, I feel that familiar sensation of detachment, of drawing back from all that is around me.

COULDN’T DO THIS IF IT WAS HAVING A HEART ATTACK! LOOK AT THE VILLAGE IDIOT!

Before long, a Police officer pulls up and walks in.

Where is he?

That’s right, WHERE’S THE VILLAGE IDIOT?!

I slowly raise my hand, feeling like some third grader in a one-room schoolhouse, hoping he has the right answer, but knowing he does not.

This biggest Cop I have ever seen looks my way.

THAT’S RIGHT! NO ONE LYING ON THE FLOOR HERE! NO ONE CLUTCHING THEIR CHEST LIKE WE ALL SEE ON TV!

He’s walking my way and now he’s standing right beside me.

Oh great, what now? Maybe I can make some small talk?! Boy, those Giants really sucked again this past season, right? Kind of a slow night so far? So, how’s the family?

My brain is in overdrive, grasping at everything, grasping at nothing, trying to make something feel real. I feel like a fool and then more flashing lights are pulling up! The officer stands quietly at my side and I’m unsure of how much of the screaming going on in my head he is hearing. It doesn’t matter, because now four firefighters are standing there looking at me!

JUST GREAT! NOTHING TO SEE HERE GUYS! MAYBE I CAN ORDER Y’ALL SOME PIZZA?!

I am sinking, slowly, more and more into myself. The world around me feels strangely at a greater and greater arms-length. And finally, the last, and yet, most important set of lights, the ambulance pulling up. I look up at the officer and hear myself say that I can walk outside; there is no need for them to bother coming in. He informs me that I’m staying put until they come for me and why not?! I’m in no position to argue with a man of this dimension, not even on my best day.

Here they are! Guess this is it!

In the door they come. They settle me onto the gurney and out the door we go. Cold outside! Into the rig, I take one last (?!) look at my wife and the doors slam shut. The guy fiddling with my arm is telling me that everything is going to be okay. He puts the IV into my left arm, but something has hanged. Something is turning the vise! TIGHTER!

What is happening!?

This is real, suddenly very real! We haven’t left yet; we must get the I.V. set first. The EMT appears to be of an early thirties vintage. I stare at a face that somehow refuses to come into focus. He seems to know what he’s doing.

What does that matter? He’s all I’ve got right now!

Here you go. He offers, putting a nitro tablet under my tongue.

My first nitro pill; not sure what I’m supposed to feel. Dissolves quickly… nothing.

What am I supposed to feel?

Let’s Go! he shouts to the driver.

And we do. Pain is increasing by the minute; exponentially, nothing linear about it! Not a joke anymore. Not heartburn anymore, or a chiropractor adjustment, or a spicy dinner!

That nitro is quite a kick, right? he queries. A fine-looking young man, I’m assuming, because I still can’t seem to keep his face in focus.

You’ll feel like your brain is going to explode any minute now.

I feel nothing. I manage to get out in nothing more than a whisper.

How is the chest feeling?

It’s bad, man. It’s bad. I return between gasps.

We rock and sway as we pull out of the hotel drive.

A few twists and turns, then a massive input of fuel tells me we’re merging onto I-81 southbound. The song of steel belted radials on asphalt rises higher and higher to a full-blown howling pitch. It is accompanied by a V-10 Ford screaming out as it puts power to the ground, the driver holding his foot to the floor!

Here, take another nitro. He offers, placing the second pill under my tongue.

It dissolves quickly, but again, nothing.

He maintains, Your head is going to explode very shortly and you’re about to have the worst headache of your life.

Some measure of time, but I am not sure how long.

How’s the head doing? Told you it would explode.

I turn to look at him, shaking my head. It’s a struggle to speak.

Nothing. I state softly.

I see his eyes get bigger for just a second, a micro-expression, really betraying his true inner mindset.

I turn away, staring at the opposite wall of what might be my last ride. I’m telling God that my family needs me, begging Him to keep me in their picture.

The V10 Ford is screaming as we are now at full song. Speed is a funny thing. At times, it is something we can only sense, but in times like this, when all visual references are taken hostage, we are only left with the telltale sounds of velocity. Tires betray the greatest degree of information, the pitch rising to an ever-higher note as a speedometer needle rotates even farther to the right. The wind howls without, yet somehow, penetrates the sidewalls of what might be my last ride.

My compatriot is ill at ease as the look in his eyes has begun to turn. The driver catches that look in a split-second glance from the road to the rear-view, a subtle communication between two men who know each other well. A team placed on this planet as a last defense against the dark curtain that is hanging just a bit lower tonight, ready to drop at any moment. But they fight. Fight the wheel, the traffic, the struggle to inject chemicals into my IV, hoping and whispering a prayer, because, in this type of moment, even the hardest of men will pray. A faint whisper put forth with every bit of hope they possess that it will be enough, and still, the driver presses ever harder on the pedal. The wind howls louder without the walls, lending a hint of forward motion of intense proportions.

THERE COMES A FLUTTERING MEMORY OF ALL THE AMBULANCES I’VE SEEN ON ALL THE INTERSTATES WE’VE TRAVELED AND ALL THE PRAYERS QUICKLY WHISPERED FOR WHOMEVER THAT MIGHT BE.

‘GOD, HELP THEM.’

MAYBE SOMEONE IS WHISPERING THOSE WORDS RIGHT NOW, AS WE GO RUSHING BY.

Where is Donna and the others?

I hope my family finds the hospital okay. I tell the paramedic.

He looks at/through me, They will okay.

Bigger fish to fry right now, right? How long can this take? Wait… a deceleration! We must be coming off the interstate!

I glance his way again.

Almost there, buddy. Just hang on for me! So, you still feel nothing from the nitro?

I just shake my head again. I’m aware now of what this means, but I had no idea at that moment. The clock was now approaching 11:30 P.M. on 4/27/19. A Saturday night like any other for most of the city’s population. However, there are a chosen few, those who have seen the bat signal in the sky, a select group of individuals who have devoted their lives to just such a moment as this. They race through a series of well-rehearsed, oft-utilized steps that get them from their humble abode to an operating room ready to go in 30 minutes or less, usually closer to 15 minutes. I have no clue, as we roll up to the emergency entrance at St. Joe’s, that a small army is on the way, just for me.

We hit the door! I’m rolling into a rather large room with a big counter assembly in the middle. Vaguely, I see people tapping away on keyboards and there is a buzz of activity all about. We stop for just a bit; I have no idea for how long, but the driver takes a clipboard over to a desk and starts talking to somebody. I feel like I’m alone in here, once again, so very alone.

A BRAIN STARVING FOR OXYGEN, FIGHTING A LOSING BATTLE TO MAINTAIN SOME GRIP ON THE SITUATION AT HAND, CAN’T PROCESS WHAT IS HAPPENING.

I raise my head to look around the room and notice a nurse by the far wall stopping to look at me. She’s just standing there staring. I wonder: What she sees? Who am I at this moment in time? It matters not, because all is pain now, totally consuming me and driving the hope farther down a rabbit hole in my mind. I repeatedly raise my head to look about the space. It’s then I find that I’m not alone! A voice from over my shoulder says, Just lie back and take it easy.

It’s my paramedic from the ambulance. I’m completely unaware he’s here, yet he has never left me, and that brings just a glimmer of hope, the supply of which is dwindling at a rapid pace.

They’re wheeling me into a side room. I see something, like eight sets of concerned eyes, gazing at me. They quickly get me undressed, down to my skivvies and here comes a nurse with a razor. She begins to attack the undergrowth that is my chest area.

Good luck with that!

While they're setting up the electrodes in me, another nurse informs me that my family has arrived and is speeding their way here. I feel relief for just a moment.

Thank you, God, for that!

And then they’re here. I notice my brother-in-law’s cool expression and am thankful he’s there for them.

A nurse tells me I am about to feel a whole lot better as he injects morphine into the I.V., and in seconds, I feel the wave of ‘happy juice’ take effect.

What a wonderful drug! I can breathe again!

And then a doctor appears from around the curtain and looks in a serious way at me, exclaiming, Sir, you’re having a heart attack.

A rather succinct statement, one that gets right to the point. You may think there’s very little difference between the statement ‘you HAVE HAD a heart attack’ and ‘you are HAVING a heart attack.’ But, trust me, these two statements are worlds apart. This may seem like a splitting of hairs to most, but for me, at that moment, the distinction seemed especially pertinent.

Meanwhile, the Morphine was gaining full purchase of both the pain and of my tongue. I’ve learned that when this most curious of drugs is administered, I tend to lose all control over what comes out of my mouth.

I picked my head up and stated for all the world to hear, Well… THAT can’t be good!

He looked back, just a tad puzzled, No, Sir. It’s not.

We’ll have you in surgery in ten minutes… He continued.

At which time I added, and no, you can’t make this stuff up, Well, Doc, this is your circus and we’re just the clowns!

He stood there with the most helpless of looks on his face, holding up his hands, looking helplessly at my wife.

It’s the morphine. You just cannot give him morphine. She offered.

Well, he stated, looking back my way, we’ll have you in surgery in 10 minutes.

Surgery in ten minutes. For sure! Ten minutes! It’s the middle of the night, a Saturday night, no less. So, just how do you whip up a surgical team that fast?

They’re moving me now, down a hall. I’m sedated to a certain degree, yet still somewhat conscious of what is happening.

I remember telling my wife, See you guys in a bit.

Into a big room, we roll. Cold, very cold. Nurses everywhere. One grabs my right arm as we roll to a stop. She is looking at my wrist area.

ARM! She cries out, then drops it just as rapidly as she’d picked it up.

We stop beside an operating table and I wonder how these girls are going to move my considerable mass over onto it. And then, it just happens! I’m floating on a cloud of air! Dreaming?