A TANK IS A TERRIBLE THING TO WASTE

The sinking of the dove will have to wait until tomorrow. Today I am compelled to write of a trip from many years ago. It's the story of a tank, a wife and a car thief.The year was 1974, I had just been run out of Sulphur, La. by the local constable. I had long hair, a leather jacket and a leather satchel, not appropriate dress for SE LA. in the seventies. I hit an entrance ramp on I 10 headed east. Maryland was calling. One of the first cars to pas was a beat up VW Thing. It's entire front end was caved in but it had headlights so in I went. The driver was clean cut,short hair, polo shirt. The back was loaded with camping gear. We talked about destinations and it appeared I had a right to central Fla. The only problem was that something about this young man made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. Nothing I could put my finger on but his body language and conversation didn't match his purpose, an extended visit to wherever the road took him. Over the course of the next few hours, two things became apparent-one, He didn,t want to talk much about himself, two, every time I light a cigarette, he light a joint. I does nearly all of the talking for the next few hours while we smoked and smoked. I did find out that he had just returned from a stint in the army stationed in Germany, that was it. We drove until late in the night, thick fog set in and gas became a problem, we had none. As the VW began to sputter, we spotted an exit, at least we were off the Interstate. By now we were both wiped out and immediately fell asleep. At day break, we both woke up to see a truck pull off in front of us. The driver came back and asked if we needed help, yes can you fill this can for us. No problem, be right back. An hour latter, no help, no gas can. The fog lifted and we were about 100 yards from a gas station. We filled up on munchies and gas and hit the road. At the first rest stop, Dave, the driver sat at a picnic table and rolled about 20 more joints. On the road again and he pulls out a couple of hits of acid. I didn't have to drive so....After about an hour of this state of mind, Dave begins to talk. The rest of the Story....while he was stationed in Germany, his wife in Texas had her car stolen, the VW. The next day, his wife and her sister were driving and say the VW. They gave chase for many miles and finally rammed the stolen car and caused it to crash. The car thief's got out and shot them both dead. Dave had been notified and flown back for the funeral. Dave drove from the funeral to his mother-in-laws, dropped of his 10 year old daughter and told the army he would be back in a month. The only problem with the plan was that Dave had been teaching tank driving while in Germany and he had been hallucinating that he was still driving a tank. He was feeling guilty because he had been teaching others to kill with a machine but killing had come home to his front door. Maybe it was wrong to kill. Maybe he should take his VW TANK and run over some army people. I let him get out the entire story, then jumped out at 70. No, I listened for hours and somehow was able to talk through the haze of acid and non-stop joints. I had but a few hours to talk him back to a better place. What do you saw to a sad, sad maniac? I'm sorry? No. You must take him out of his head and put him into the beauty of what you have at hand. at the time it was the road, the acid, the trees, life. Life could still be beautiful, it was nothing to be ashamed of. He had a daughter to raise, a part of his wife lived on. The tank driving was another matter. It was definitely time to say good bye to the army. He and a tank were no longer buddies. He would have a lot of grieve to deal with, but he was strong, he would manage. He had a daughter that needed him, the sooner the better. By now we had reached his turn off to head south, we had not spoken for maybe an hour. As he pulled over to drop me off, there were tears in his eyes, but peace on his face. He thanked me for the ride (I was supposed to thank him) dropped me off, crossed under the over pass and got back on I 10 headed west for Texas. I looked around for a rock to crawl under so I could sleep for at least three days. Alas, the rules of the road do not allow for sleep when their is still daylight and a road. My thumb was out and I was soon on my way.