Back on the Highway
A few months later, Dean and I decided that we should move on. Even though word came down that the captain’s deployment would be extended indefinitely due to a messy situation over in the Persian Gulf, we felt like we didn’t want to overstay our welcome. And mainly because I was always so bored. I had to get outta that place.
“Dean, I want to see Mexico.”
“Nope, can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Can’t cross the border without a driver’s license,” Dean said. I thought to myself. Bullshit! What a wacko. Don’t even try to understand that. Just drop it.
“Okay then, how about California?” I asked.
“Why California? There’s nothing to see there,” he said.
“How do you know? Been there?” I asked.
“Yep.”
“Come on Dean, we gotta get out of this place. I’d like to see for myself if there is nothing in California. I heard there was.”
“Okay. I know San Diego.” Dean replied.
Well, we drove and drove and drove. Traveling with Dean is like riding the slow turtle ride at the Kennywood amusement park. Except not very amusing. What a trip. At every tourist attraction stop along the way, aka “rest stop,” I’d pick up brochures to read about what we were missing. When we did stop somewhere along the way, Dean waited for me in the cab while I went out sightseeing. Since I can’t really walk too far myself, the sightseeing wasn’t usually much more than a big walk around the cab so that I could say that I set foot in every state that we drove through. I saw plenty of rest stops in Texas, New Mexico, and Arizona. I even saw a sign that pointed the way to the Alamo and one that pointed the way to Carlsbad Caverns, whatever that is. We rode through the desert in a horse cab with no name.
Finally, we arrived in San Diego, California. I always wanted to be a California girl that the Beach Boys sang about. However, I was sure that we wouldn’t be staying at any beaches when I saw the sign that read: “Naval Base San Diego.” How creative of them to come up with that name, right?
Well, we stayed at the naval base in San Diego for a few weeks. I can tell you this, if you’ve seen one Naval base, you’ve seen them all. I quickly became bored and started missing home again. I never did see much of anything in CA because we never went off base. But then, maybe Dean was right when he said, “There’s nothing to see in California.” The parts of CA that we drove through were pretty though. The weather was nice, blah, blah blah. “Dean, I want to go home.”
“Home is where you are,” he replied.
“Dean! Stop with wacky philosophy. Etna is home.”
“Okay,” he said.
You can just imagine how long the long long trip from CA to PA was. Dean doesn’t drive at night because of the lights and he doesn’t drive in the rain because the water on the windshield causes reflections, and also because he can’t tolerate the constant windshield wiper motion. He also has to be careful about staring at the lane divider lines which can cause a strobing hypnosis. Any one of those things can cause his brain to go into seizures. I can’t blame the Dept. of Transportation for not allowing him to have a driver’s license.
In Dean’s case, the song title “On the Road Again” should be lengthened to “On the Road Again and Again and Again.” Every day was the same. On the road at 6:00 a.m. Pull over and stop at 7:11 a.m. as well as every hour or so after that all day long. Check into Motel 6 before it got dark outside, day after day after day. I guess you could say that my thrill of adventurous traveling had diminished a bit. I swore that I’d never leave home again. All of that time away and what did I do? What did I accomplish? What did I see besides two naval bases, 6000 miles of highway, and a thousand rest stops? Is that what a once-in-a-lifetime vacation is supposed to be like?
Thank God for the most beautiful sight I have ever seen. The Fort Pitt Tunnels! In no time, we were across the Mason-Dixon line and back into the North Hills. Now I understand why sailors and astronauts kiss the ground when they return home from space or the sea. Out route 28 we drove and then up route 8 and, alleluia, home in Etna. Whew! What a trip man!
We pulled up to my home, my real home, my mobile home. It looked just the way we left it as if we never left. “Come on Dean, don’t just sit there, let’s go inside,” I said. He didn’t move. “Dean, what’s the problem?”
“I should go home too,” he said.
“Dean, you don’t have a home, you slept in your cab, remember? Dean, don’t be a wacko, you’ll stay with me now, this will be our home. Welcome home.” I looked over at Dean and for the 2nd time since I met him, I saw a tear in his eye.
“Thank you, Beatrice B. Goode, I love you…. “
“Wake up Beatrice! Wake up!” Someone was yelling at me and shaking me. When I slowly started to wake, I thought to myself: Oh God don’t tell me this was all just a freakin dream! I’ll kill myself! Dean was calling out to me and still shaking me.
“Wake up Beatrice!” I opened my eyes and saw Dean standing at my open taxi door, still shaking me. “You fainted, he said. Are you ok?”
“Yep,” I replied smiling as I realized that it wasn’t all just a dream. I am home from vacation and I know what I heard him say. He said that he loved me! “Help me get outta this cab! Grab my suitcase and your seabag.” I watched him limp up the steps onto the porch. I unlocked and opened the door and then turned to him and said “Welcome aboard Mate.” He laughed out loud and that made me laugh just as hard. And then as usual my mind begins to wander. Mate? Did I just call him my mate? What is a mate? Does that mean we are mates now? Noooo! Of course not, we’ve never even been out on dates, how could we be mates?
RUCKSACK GRUNT - A Vietnam Veteran's Memoir 