April the cop posted her and her sons caricature recently. She is one of my favorite road friends. Because of my very antagonistic history with cops it makes my experience with April particularly poignant. I was returning to Vermont from the Grand Canyon in the spring of 2011 after selling my best painting to a real estate agent in Flagstaff so l could get my car fixed. Driving through South Dakota, an intensely beautiful state, I noticed there was less than 60 dollars in the wallet. I needed a bar. It was getting dark so I stopped in the nearest town to read the map by headlight. A cruiser pulled up. All I needed was to be fodder for some sociopath who wanted to steal my last dollar. Out stepped an attractive, sultry, dark haired woman, obviously native American. Can I help you, she asked with an imposing serenity. After telling her my story she she said, I can help you with that but first we have to do a little business. She wrote a repair order for a headlight with lots of time on it. What a relief!!! No ticket. Now I want you to follow me to the station. I have some customers for you. After arriving at the station, April put me to work. Some of the results she posted. It was midnight when I was done. You look a little tired, Im going to get you a room, she said empathetically. After ordering 2 cops to escort me to the motel, I fell asleep fantasizing about being married to April in that beautiful little town for the rest of our lives, me painting landscapes and her hunting down bad guys like Francis McDormand in Fargo. The next day I was researching possible gigs at the Mayberry library when the police dispatcher pulled up with her two young children and tried to persuade me to stay in town for a road race later in the afternoon. I wondered if April had anything to do with it. I was severely tempted but l decided to keep heading east. After spending the next night at Walmart in Mankato, I tried to get into the air show. They rejected me. Driving into Wisconsin I came to a small town intersection. Wrapped around a phone pole was an advertisement for a horseshoe tournament benefitting local cancer victims set to begin in two hours. Pulling into the gas station for directions, I saw a billfold lying on the pavement. In it was 360 dollars. After contacting the owner and returning the wallet intact, I proceeded to the event which was held at a bar in a nearby hamlet. The tournament was organized by the widow of the man honored. She was very happy to have me. Soon everyone was plastered and I was drawing as fast as I could. At the end, I counted 360 dollars, more than enough to stay in Manestique on Lake Superior and make it home by way of the Otawa valley.
Posted on: Sun, 23 Nov 2014 05:46:06 +0000
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