Kristie’s most prized possession for a couple of years during her travels was a road atlas that gave all the routes across the North American continent. She consulted her maps now to see the best direction out of Lexington. She could see that she would end up further north than she wanted to be.
Spring still hadn’t turned to summer. She was an affirmed temperate climate fan after spending the winter in England. She and Vicki said their goodbyes and she hit the on ramp going west.
The coat was real fur, but not at all nice or attractive. It seemed to be made out of some ugly grey beaver or muskrat. She bought it for $10 in an open air market in Norwich just before winter set in. She needed a good coat. It was going to be a cold season. It wasn’t really practical being so thick and unwieldy; she could barely move her arms in it. But it was warm and it suited her taste for the dramatic flair.
After leaving England, she didn’t think she would need it anymore and so she bequeathed it to a fellow traveler who was going over the pond. She was thankfully headed back to Southern climes. “Here you’re going to need this,” she said to the fellow.
“Are you sure? Can I give you something for it?” he asked.
“Yeah… no, it’s cool, I don’t want anything for it. It served me well, now it is yours.” She made a big deal of bowing to him. In her mind she was thinking, “Good riddance!” The idea of carrying that son of a bitch all the way across country was forbidding.
He insisted on giving her his dog eared Rand McNally road atlas. She accepted it gladly. It was a fair trade and the atlas would come in handy on her travels.
She had never missed that coat for one minute of her life, but she thought of it now as she was leaving Kentucky. She caught a ride with a young trucker who seemed pleasant enough at first, but as the ride continued and the hours wore on, his manner changed into a more assertive character.
He kept trying to coerce her into having sex with him bringing up different arguments as if it were a debate that he could win. He grabbed her arm and pinched her.
“Stop the truck and let me out!” she demanded.
He persisted with his violent threats, “You know I could stop right here along this road and no one would know. I could do anything I wanted to you,” he continued squeezing her arm.
Kristie yelled at him in her most assertive dramatic tone. Anyone who ever saw her mad knows this voice. It was her meanest, strongest, loudest, willful, and most threatening voice, “STOP THIS FUCKING TRUCK AND LET ME OUT RIGHT NOW!!!”
“Are you sure you want to get out right here?” the little weasel asked. “It’s snowing and we’re in the middle of no where.”
“LET ME OUT NOW!!” She was really livid and ready to fight for her rights and life if necessary.
He stopped the truck. She grabbed her sleeping bag and ruck sack. After her blood pressure calmed down and she caught her breath she looked around. OK, it was a picnic area by the side of the road. If need be she could bed down here . The picnic table would make a good bed with her plastic poncho as protection from the weather.
It was snowing… so quietly it fell. So beautiful. She took a moment to appreciate the beauty of her surroundings. She had no idea where she was. Somewhere between Indiana and Illinois. “Damn it!” she thought. “I left my atlas in the cab of that mother fucker’s truck!”
She thought again of that rat fur coat she gave to her fellow traveler. She wasn’t sorry, but it did give her a pause. Between the atlas and the coat, even in this situation, she would rather have the atlas. She prayed she wouldn’t have to stay out there all night. She was hoping for a ride south, but she set up her sleeping bag and tarp to prepare for the ensuing darkness.
(First published 7/18/12)
