Spot, the bobble-headed dog who only wanted a potato chip...
Spot sits in the console of our car.
He’s a bobble-headed dog I picked up at some truck stop somewhere in America during my “Year I Saw America”…2002-03 when I drove an 18-wheeler from coast-to-coast.Sometimes his head bobbles along as we roll on down the road. Most of the times he’s still because there’s usually something in the console up against his noggin.
Lots of times when I look at Spot I think of my co-driver during those months of trucking: Frank the Trinidadian.
One time I was driving the thundering Freightliner out west somewhere and Frank was in the passenger seat eating potato chips.
“Spot says he’s sees you have potato chips,” I said. “He says he too likes potato chips.”
Frank pointed at Spot.
“That thing has not said anything,” said Frank.
“He’d like a potato chip,” I said.
“It is not a living thing,” said Frank jabbing his finger toward Spot. “To pretend to feed that would be idolatrous.”
I laughed and waved my hand at Frank.
“Never mind,” I said to Frank.
“You think I am kidding,” said Frank.
Oh hell, I thought to myself, what door have I mistakenly kicked open?
“One must be careful of idolatry,” said Frank in his thick Trinidadian accent. “And demons, there are demons everywhere. You know when The Lahd kicked Satan out of Heaven fully a third of the angels chose to go with him and they came to Earth as demons and imps. They are monkeys on the backs of weak souls. Demons who represent all kinds of weaknesses…addictions to alcohol, drugs, sex, gambling and such.”
Frank's ancestors came from India, he grew up in the Caribbean island nation of Trinidad and Tobago. Frank had been raised Hindu but he converted to Christianity. And Christianity couldn’t expect much more devotion from a soul than Frank’s faith in The Lord.
Frank owed everything to The Lord, or as he said in his Trinidadian accent, “The Lahd.”
Even being promiscuous.
One time while waiting to deliver a load in San Diego I awoke from a nap to find Frank leaning out the passenger side window talking to a couple of streetwalkers.
“Frank,” I said. “What are you doing?”
“I am getting prices,” said Frank.
I laughed.
“Dude,” I said, “They ain’t coming inside here. Besides Frank, what’s going on here? You’re married.”
“I know this,” said Frank in his thick Trinidadian accent, “But The Lahd has blessed me with a great sex drive and I must use it to His glory.”
Hanging around with Frank I learned stuff. For instance I didn’t know that in Trinidad whether your ancestors came from Africa or India one was still considered “Black.”
Frank was quite convinced that Americans had it in for him because he was Black.
It all didn’t matter to me. What we look like is all related to where our ancestors came from. We’re all passengers on an organic spaceship zipping around the galaxy.
This topic of Frank, race and America came to a head one day when Frank and I fueled up at a truck stop between Austin and San Antonio, Texas. An old beater of a car rumbled through the parking lot. The dweeb passenger leaned out of his window, looked right at me, flipped me the bird and yelled "N***** LOVER." I looked the jerk in the eye as he drove away and made a motion with my arm for him to come back. He didn't.
"SEE? SEE?" Frank stopped and yelled at me waving his arms around. "Americans don't like me because I am black."
I stopped and looked at Frank square in the eyes.
"Dude," I said. "How often has that happened to you?"
Frank just stared at me.
"Yeah," I said, "Like I thought. Not often if ever. Look, I dare say 99.9 percent of the people don't give a rat's ass that you're black or Trinidadian. We're all here working on our hopes and dreams. And you came here because you're working on yours. Most people are too busy with their own business to care about a dude walking into the truck stop to pay for his fuel except for THAT asshole who just drove by. His momma probably beat him, he probably doesn't have a girlfriend so he's not getting laid and he probably doesn't have a job. He’s a loser and he has a loser’s view of the world. So get over it, dude."
One truck driving night I was pushing the rig at top speed on Interstate 80 eastbound across Wyoming…wide open country. The night sky was full of stars.
“There’s just no way we’re the only ones out here in the universe,” I said as I looked through the windshield toward the sky. “Kind of big-headed of us to think we’re the only inhabited planet amongst all those stars.”
“Oh no, Grant,” said Frank. He was sitting in the passenger seat eating potato chips looking through the windshield too. “We are all alone out here in the universe. God only made the moon, planets and stars so we would not be lonely at night.”
I drove on through the night and looked at the riot of stars in the sky.
Who was I to argue with Frank anyway?
Spot just sat on the dash, his head bobbing up and down.
-30-
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ReplyDeleteThanks Lee!
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