by John Hargrave
Jade and I spent the holiday with her family in Ohio. In order to get there, we took I-80 from Boston to Cleveland, the route that inspired Techno-Shamans In Texas. It's a twelve-hour drive; we've probably done it thirty times. Fortunately, the route still holds surprises. You may know of my fascination with truck stops. Driving through Pennsylvania, we found a great one. This one had every kind of seedy filth known to humanity: X-rated movies, pornographic air fresheners, and naked lady silhouetted mudflaps. In one of the bathrooms, a hand-scrawled sign commanded: "DO NOT PISS IN THE SINK." I loved it.
As we were paying for our gas, Jade noticed a former container of beef jerky that had been converted into the Curse Jar. "What's that?" Jade asked the attractive young woman who was tending the cash register. "Whenever a trucker starts cussing, I make him put some money in the curse jar." (The Curse Jar, it should be noted, contained a sizable amount of cash.) "What are you going to do with the money?" asked Jade. "Give it to charity?" "Well, I'm expecting. So I'm trying to get the manager to give me the money for the baby." Back on the road, I told Jade that I thought the cashier deserved the Curse Jar money. After all, she had to work there.  |
