I write this chapter as therapy, as a pill, as a meditation, as a prescription, as a minor lobotomy. Survival mode is only encountered a few times in a lifetime; possible scenarios, impossible scenarios, contingencies, mood manipulation, water, food, shelter, energy. Prayer. Usually, it's encountered alone. Many times it's a result of your own mistakes, your own stubbornness and stupidity, your unawareness, but none of that mattered as I sat stranded in my car on eastbound Interstate 20 west of Weatherford, Texas, helpless, as 18wheeler after 18wheeler jack knifed trying to get up the hills on ice.
It was 24 degrees. The day before I was in 80 degrees, playing golf on the border at Lajitas, now this. I pulled up on the rough stretch of highway around 5 in the afternoon, the previous 6 hours in the car flew by, I left the El Viejo Adobe in Alpine around 11am, north to Monahans on State1776-- Revolution Road, then picking up I-20, back to the east. Normally, I would've gone back roads, normally, I would've shunpiked the route home, but I was anxious to get back, I missed my gals, my gals missed me, I loved my family, let's hammer down. I clocked between 83 and 88 MPH the whole way, lots of Talking Heads, lots of Theolonious Monk.
To park on the Interstate, to cut your engine to save gas, to eat olives and sunflowers seeds, to drink your last drop of water, to be stranded for 9 hours without much hope, that is survival mode. I couldn't think of anything similar in the previous half century of my life; maybe the winter of '83 on a family Chistmas trip, ironically, on the same highway, but we were never in serious peril, we were always moving, as I recall. This was sudden, and shocking; unexpected, and gravitationally heavy...
Thaw Out Plan
'Tween the Brock Exit and Old Dennis Road.
West of Weatherford in the freezing cold.
Glazed over by ice and slick as it gets.
Stranded alone without enough rest.
Ate sunflowers seeds and a few croutons.
Midnight now, prolly be here at dawn.
Stalled out Semi's can't make the hill.
Blocking the road, causing a standstill.
Conserving my gas, got a quarter tank.
Kinda started moving then my heart sank.
Nothing but red hazard lights ahead.
Thinking bout a shower, thinking bout bed.
911 can't do much to help.
Guess we'll all have to wait til it melts.
There goes a city truck dropping sand.
Maybe there's some kind of thaw out plan.
Until then I'll just keep my cool.
Ain't gonna panic like a uncool fool.
Ain't gonna yell or scream or shout.
Eventually we'll find our way out.
At 2am TxDOT came through when 3 trucks zoomed past me in the cold, dark, icy night; we found our way out, still frozen, but free, I arrived home at 5am, ignoring the wise counsel of my family to get a hotel room in Weatherford.
