RUN FOR THE BORDER

This story is true, the names are the same, changing them won't make the memories fade.


In the before times, I could drive a thousand miles sometimes more, I've always been a good driver.

When the time came to give up on the carpetbaggin' relatives and go home to Alabama, lists were made and plans set in stone. How to drive a thousand miles toting a demented octogenarian and survive, hopefully unscathed. The only helpful hint from the puppet government pamphlet on Alzheimer's said to travel with them in the rear seat. This was a puzzlement, as traveling with Alzheimer's did not seem to be a prudent action to begin with. It worried me to take advice from a publication that treated the daily horrors of Alzheimer's as taboo. Why was there no snippet on poopy hands. The only mention of hands was to let them keep their hands busy by letting them help prepare meals. I had adamantly declined this hand advice.


The vehicle to be driven, belonged to the Mean Octogenarian Parental Unit (MOPU), had been sitting for a couple years but I had been using it and working on it. Tires, belts, battery etc, patch it up and get gone. A nest was made in the right rear so I could see MOPU if MOPU made a lunge for my throat whist tootling down the interstate at 80mph. I knew this could be the end of me if great care wasn't taken and all disasters foreseen.

The day to leave came. I belted MOPU into the nest, lots of pillows and a comforter over and under. I contemplated how comfy it looked and maybe I should ride here and make MOPU drive. I was close to the edge it was obvious. Must get home, Must get home. Must get home. Sweet Home Alabama, Lord, I'm commin' home to you.

Oh the glorious open rode, with Alabama waiting at the end of the line. I was one happy asshole.


Dars buckwheat cakes an' ingen batter, makes you fat or a little fatter,
Look away, look away, look away, Dixie land.
Den hoe it down and scratch your grabble to Dixie's land I'm bound to travel,
Look away, look away, look away Dixie land. (Chorus)


I felt a smile slide across my face. Then I felt something slide down the back of my right arm. My brain wanted to stay happy and fought the sight of MOPU's shoe in the front seat, I was confused. Gaining a stretch of open road, I turned the rear view mirror to view MOPU. MOPU was smiling, she had stolen my smile. MOPU needed it, cause it was all she had on.

I found a rest stop and pulled in. MOPU was still securely belted in, I tried to get some pull ups on but MOPU had some pee socks as ammo and kept me at bay.

Back on the interstate I thought of ways to entertain myself, the happy smell of the buckwheat cakes was gone. I drove on, passing semi trucks by the dozens and always careful not to pause in the passing where the driver would not have ample time to glance down and view of MOPU's double "D" triple longs enjoying a road trip.
I had no trouble keeping a perplexed stupid look on my face, it had been living there for over a year.

As darkness fell and I pulled on the lights, the game changed. I had never used MOPU's vehicle at night, nothing was open after 4pm in the way way out lands of Iowa. I felt screwed, and more than just a little stupid. I said my usual small prayer of thanks to the Lord Almighty for not completely screwing me and thanking Him for the low beam light and a working cigarette lighter. I played out several scenarios should I gain pull over attention. I felt some hope of not garnering a ticket in that any State Trooper's flashlight and the discovery of MOPU may grant me pity.

I needed to find a place large enough to have a hotel/motel with a handicap room. Paducah, Kentucky was not that far. South side of Paducah I pulled into a huge three story hotel. Exhaustion hit hard. Went in to register, for a first floor handicap room. All taken, then just a first floor room, okay, 85 bucks, are you kidding me, got a wheel chair, are you kidding me, closest door to the room, side entrance toward the rear, open the slide lock with your card key, okie dokie then.

Back at the car, MOPU is still smiling. I located the rear side door, it's almost midnight. I have a plan, put MOPU's shoes on her and just wrap her in a comforter and off to the room for a shower and clean clothes. I park three feet from the door and helps MOPU to the door. MOPU is no longer smiling, wants to know where MOPU is. The door will not open. Standing there with a naked old woman in a parking lot and the damn door will not open. There can ONLY be four ways to slide the card. I am pissed, I bang on the door, I'm glad I don't have a gun in my pocket, I would have shot the glass out. I sit MOPU on the large ashtray/butt can next to the door. Jump in the drivers seat and hall ass through the parking lot, run in and tell the clerk the damn door won't open, go open the damn thing and run back out. I had explained all my current problems to the clerk when the 85 dollars had exchanged hands. Jump back in the car and zoom around the building expecting anything, MOPU was still sitting on the butt can complaining to the fairies. The clerk waddled down and opened the door. MPOU was put into her room and I went out to get the overnight bag that was not to be used until the following night. This was not going as planned.

Fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice, shame on me. I left a shoe in the door so it couldn't close and lock me out. I put the bag in the room and got MOPU settled. A steady hard rain had started. The car had to be moved from the door to the front parking lot. I stared at the down pour. Elvis Presley's Kentucky Rain started playing somewhere in my brains rumpled file cabinets. I took off a shoe and got ready to run.

The only valid parking spot was half way to the front. I am too old and too fat to make it in either direction. The front door, where I would magically appear to the desk clerk, soaked to the bone, wearing only one shoe, this could arouse the clerk's suspicions as to what shenanigans I had been up to, or, the rear side door where I could enter unseen and retrieve my shoe.

As I stepped out into the rain, it poured harder. I limped one shoed through the dark parking lot wondering where all the serial killers are when you need one. Then I stepped on something sharp, no need to wonder if there was blood, I was sure of it. I wondered if there were wolves in Kentucky. I thought about sitting and waiting for awhile, to give the wolves a chance, but figured it was raining to hard for the smell of blood to waif productively through the air. I needed to just face facts, I would be spending the night in the same room as MOPU.

I entered the room to find MOPU sitting on the end of the bed inquiring as to the where abouts of the "boys". I told MOPU they would be there in the morning if she stayed in bed tonight. It worked and MOPU, freshly dressed went to bed.

I needed a shower and foot tending, I was dizzy with exhaustion and fell head first, banging my head hard on the shower wall, then sat in a pool of despair and washed with the fragrant little soap. I had mixed feeling about the skin not being broken on my foot.

I passed out. First time on a soft bed in years. Then the banging started, MOPU had figured out how to open the door but not the slide lock, giving MOPU about a half inch view of the outside world. I drifted back to sleep thinking "you go for it MOPU, 85 bucks for this run down flop house with no handi pots, bang away MOPU, BANG AWAY." I drifted in and out of sleep for hours. I thought a Hindu man had invaded my dreamless sleep, but realized that there was a Hindu gentleman attempting to give instructions to MOPU from the hall way. He had come to the rescue of MOPU's door banging and cries for help. I yelled at MOPU to leave the door alone and get back in bed. She did not, but the gentleman went away. No "boys" for you MOPU.

I got up and told MOPU if she sat quietly at the table, I would bring her a doughnut. I hurried down to the free breakfast bar and loaded down while standing under the "Do Not Take Food From This Area" sign. As I departed laden down with breakfast goodies, I wondered if these people were to polite to proclaim my insolence or if the Hindu man had spread the word. Either way, I would have been happy to have MOPU join them for breakfast.

We made Alabama 'fore dark.