7/9- Trucker's Jamboree

An action packed, fun filled, family day at Iowa 80 it was this day. To kick it all off we started out with meeting one of our absolute favorite waitresses at The Kitchen, Christi. She would not even let us dip below 3/4 of a cup before she was swinging back to top us off. We also spent a lot of time chatting her up telling her about our travels and what we're up to, and hearing her story about raising her daughter and the ordeals of single parenthood with a deadbeat dad. In fact, we got along with her so well we hung out drinking coffee, talking with her when she had a moment, until she got out of work at 3pm.

Once she left, we decided we should too and see what this Jamboree is all about. The day somewhat reminded me of my visit to Baker City, OR back when I was walking the US and was taken in by a family there for the day. Their was a Miner's Jubilee going on in that town when I arrived (odds of 1 in 365 that time) and I wandered around exploring that until they got out of work, then they took me to a rodeo on a spare ticket they randomly had.

This time, no one took us in other than the welcoming family of the Iowa 80 Kitchen, but the feeling of being apart of this community event, with families roaming around and kids eating ridiculous treats was the same. It always throws me back to The Big E which was a carnival that rolled into Springfield, MA every September and was a huge deal if you were a kid. Seeing these events like the Jubilee and the Jamboree as one just drifting through gives it a whole new perspective. Like walking through the family pictures on an unknown family's mantel if that makes sense. Being apart of something and welcome while not really belonging there.

Todd and I roamed the truck display once again for a bit, actually get a good look at them this time now that they were officially displayed. This too harkened me back to my strange obsession with the shipping industry that I had while I was walking. Although this time, it wasn't the web of truckers, mariners, and engineers tying the world together that was enthralling me. It was the history of those folks stretched out across time. Seeing these old trucks that used to rumble over dirt roads when roads were just beginning to connect the east and west coasts. When you didn't go for a drive, but went motoring. Some of these relics were over a hundred years old, which was a strange realization when you see the date 1908. I guess I never got over the turn of the millennium, because Todd had to point that out. To me over a hundred has remained as 1899 or earlier.

After meandering the grounds a bit we thought about trying to find a ride out. It was about 5pm, and we figured we'd seen it now and were good to go. A quick jaunt out to the ramps changed our mind, however. The roads were jam packed only going into the truck stop, but the ramp heading west was empty. Traffic cops were directing traffic as well, and since we weren't quite sure of the legality of hitching, or if anyone would be likely to pick up two hitchers in front of a cop also made it difficult.

We sat a the Pilot station across the way where the Greyhound had dropped us and decided that it was pointless to stay out here now. Aaron Tippin, a big country singer, was playing at 7pm until 9pm and after that the roads would be jammed going the other way, perfect for hitching. The obvious answer was just go back to the Jamboree and enjoy it, stop trying to find the quickest way out of where we were. The funny part of it was that both of us were happy being there as well.

When we got back to the Jamboree we decided to plop down at the hay bale seating arena and enjoy the show. Leaning against our packs was our way of advertising quietly to a big crowd wandering around that we were hitch hikers and might need a ride after the show. It didn't work, but I did get into a really good conversation with the lady I sat next to.

Betty was there with her husband and some friends, she was probably some where in her 60s and lived just across the border in Illinois. We got to talking just from the packs, and making sure each of us had enough room, that sort of thing. Eventually, Todd wandered off on the phone and I found myself completely embroiled in explaining every bit of what we were doing to Betty. How we lived, the following of our intuitions, and the joys and perils of this way of life. She seemed deeply concerned and inspired at the same time. One major issue she wanted to make sure she understood was how well I kept in touch with my mother, and if I worried her sick. It was a bit of a shock to her to hear I was completely supported by everyone in my family. Not even reluctantly, but enthusiastically.

I had a really good time talking with her. We talked all the way through the show and into everyone packing up to go. I was a complete foreigner in her way of life yet I still seemed quite welcome by her. She reminded me very much of my Dad's side of the family. Not so much the immediate, but more the extended parts. When she left to go home I still don't think she agreed with what I was doing, but she did seem somewhat inspired to see I was happy to share it and was going to do it anyway.

After she and her family left Todd returned and we moved over to a bale of hay acting as a seat for a display of fireworks. Most of the people had cleared out by then except for gaggle of young moms and their toddlers jumping from bale to bale. They were by far more interesting to watch than the one at a time fireworks show. Following that we made for our traffic jam out front to hitch on.

The jam style of hitching is not as affective as one might think. Either that or our hearts just weren't in it. We set ourselves up on a well lit corner, away from where the traffic cops were, just below a stop sign so that trucks and cars stopped on their way out could get a good look at us. We too got a good look at them as they saw us and kept going, or kept being aggravated that they were stuck in a traffic jam. Rain started rumbling in as well after half an hour or so, so we returned to the truck stop proper and propped ourselves up by the door in front of the gas station.

Now here was a moment that I attribute again to the weirdness of how things work. Sitting here on this bench was a nice way to see a lot of people and talk with some as they went in and out grabbing snacks and paying for gas. We were relaxed and unanxious for a ride at all, but we set our sign out for Des Moines/Denver and just hung out doing whatever. Often I would run off and explore something then come back again.

At some point while both of us were sitting there I was staring at the ground just thinking. A man and a woman walked by and something dropped out of the man's back pocket landing squarely in front of Todd and I. It was a $50 bill, neatly folded with the "50" staring right at me. As soon as it dropped and I recognized it I reflexively snatched it up and ran after the pair catching them just inside the doorway. Trying to tap them on the shoulder saying "excuse me, excuse me" they seemed to want to shrug me off until I told the guy he'd dropped something he probably wanted. There was a split second in there where the thought surfaced of maybe that was their way of giving us $50. But then he saw the bill and was obviously surprised, took it, and sort of muddled off a thanks that was overtaken by his own shock at having been handed his own fifty to him.

I went back to our bench and answered Todd's confused look on his face as he'd missed what had happened. I didn't really think much of it afterward, and we joked about how I should have just kept it, but acknowledged there's no way we'd feel right about keeping money that we knew where it came from. Had I been off looking at something, as I had periodically been doing all night, and came back to find it there then of course you keep it, but not when you know who you can return it to.

Anyway, we sat there for maybe another 20 minutes before the two came back out again. I didn't recognize them at first and thought that the woman of the two was a trucker woman we had talked to about an hour ago saying we might have a ride with her. The lady came right up to me handing me $2 saying thank you so much for being honest. It took me a second to realize who they were and we ended up chatting a bit with them.

Connie was her name, and she told us it was too bad it wasn't Tuesday because that's when they come through heading west and they'd love to give us a ride. She said if she ran across us any time and were heading our way that she'd have no problem giving us a ride, so we swapped numbers. Its worked so far with Ken for Todd, so we figured as long as we know her route this could work out really well.

A little while after they shoved off we returned to our old haunt, The Kitchen. Here our brains started churning up ideas of getting to know a bunch of truckers, possibly setting up a network of trucker friends to hook up with depending on where we're going. Thinking of Jess and Christi, we hit on the idea of becoming regulars in as many truck stop diners as we could so that they could introduce us to other truckers who might want riders along. The whole world blossomed once again.

Click here for Todd's perspective.