Ode to Joy

[SamIam]

(Note: I have no idea where this belongs, so I'm posting it here as a sort of creative essay...)

Tonight around 6:30 I shut off my computer, combed my hair, grabbed my purse, and hopped into my new old truck to hit an AA meeting. It’s a beautiful spring night here in the Rockies and the air around dusk was like magic. When I got to the intersection of Main and Colorado Highway 145, my truck decided to turn north on 145 instead of continuing on Main to the meeting. That Toyota knows it’s destined for greater things than sedate errands around town. It has been longing for the high country every since I bought it two weeks ago, and, I must confess, so have I.

145 is a splendid road through the San Juan Mountains, over Lizard Head Pass, on to the town of Telluride and the clear and remote San Miguel River – so many wonderful places! I haven’t been on Highway 145 for over two years, and my last venture up it ended in catastrophe. I had had far too much to drink and the driver had even more. He had the additional handicap of being a flatlander from Palm Springs, Cali, and the combination of alcohol and driver inexperience proved almost fatal to us both. He zigged when he should have zagged, and the car hit a boulder, flipped over off the road and landed on its roof. Goodbye, RAV, hello life as a POW (Person withOut Wheels). It’s a wonder neither one of us were killed. He escaped with a minor concussion and I had a fractured rib. Life went on.

And on and on. I got smart and sobered up and started saving for a new car. He kept drinking and ended up penniless in the county jail. I felt like I might as well have been in jail myself – stuck in the small and bizarre town of Cortez, Colorado all by myself. I learned to stop looking toward the horizon because the sight of the mountains would overcome me with longing and sorrow. I worked my AA program and worked at being grateful for all the things I still had, but the loss of the back country was worse than the loss of a lover, and I mourned.

For two years I grieved, and then by hard work and the grace of God, I was able to finally buy an old Toyota T100 truck. A friend spied the Toyota first and drove me over to look at it in the used car lot. It was love at first sight.

So, at sunset I drove 40 miles or so into the mountains and felt completely happy and at peace with myself for the first time in a very long time. The poet, Rumi, wrote, “Judge a moth by the quality of its flame.” I am too humble to be judged by such standards – the escarpment of mountains and plateaus at Land’s End; the rugged snow covered peaks of the San Juan Mountains; the meteor showers that the Leonids can bring on a clear, cold night at Island in the Sky.

This evening I drove in a manner completely contrary to my usual style which is “Whatza matter with you, idiot? This is just a punky little ten thousand foot pass with a few hairpin curves. I got campfires to make and back roads to drive instead of this wimpy asphalt. Outta my way!” Tonight I drove in awe along the Dolores River as it cascaded down from the mountains. No "River of Sorrow" for me! I watched the shapes of the still bare aspens silhouetted against the horizon by the sunset. I put on the flashers and pulled to the side of the road to take in the sight of eight elk grazing in a meadow beside the road. Even the Greyhound bus passed me which always before would have been the ultimate humiliation.

Instead tonight, I basked in the cool mountain air pouring in through my open windows. That truck has every accessory I have ever wanted in a vehicle: AC, cruise control, and a Kenwood stereo/CD player. It’s a five on the floor stick shift and you open and close the windows by cranking the handle. The only other thing I could ask for is the old stop and lock in the hubs 4wd. This Toyota, you can go four-wheel on the fly. Oh, well. You can’t have everything.

My truck purred through the curves. It shifted like a vehicle with 20,000 miles on it instead of almost 200,000. The oil pressure gauge remained on high and the engine heat remained low despite the climb in altitude. The person who owned this Toyota before me obviously loved it as much as I now do.

Now, all I need is an air mattress, sleeping bag, and Coleman lantern. I can pick these things up next paycheck. I can sleep in the camper until I get the money for a tent and I’m an ace campfire cook – no real need for a camp stove. I am amused when friends my age express horror over my proposed camping expeditions. “My bones would never let me sleep on the ground that way!” My eyes would never let me sleep in case I missed a meteor shower. And I’m hungry to see everything I possibly can while I still can. So what if I get an ache or two in my bones? The ache in my heart that the mountains fill more than compensates for any physical discomfort my body may impose.

Tonight, I am the luckiest woman alive. Summer is coming and I live dead center in what is for me the most beautiful place on earth. And I have my Toyota to take me there at long last. So what if my income is below poverty level and that I’ll turn 60 next September? And don’t tell the Toyota that it has almost 200,000 miles on it. It begs to differ with you.

I firmly believe that we both have many miles and years left to go on us both.

Over and over and over…
Going once, going twice,
Mercy God, Jesus Christ!
And I’m gone, and I’m gone, and I’m gone! ( – Shawn Colvin)