I sure am glad i was so delusional about the health of my radiator. i wanted so badly to go to the literary kicks NYC bitter end event, that i had convinced myself that my badly leaking radiator could make it, if i only drove horizontally, kept my trusty 16 yr old toyota, Bertha, and me in the country instead of driving down to the city by myself. Not to mention that i was terrified of driving in NYC; in the past, no matter how or when i went to the city, i never drove in.
so, twenty miles outside of cherry valley, my car overheated. i limped into town, and Charlie and i took it over to his friend’s after supper. we then went down to the bitter end and came back to find out that in our absence, Dick had put some weird fluid - actually called ‘gunk’ in it that had stopped the leaks, and i was able to head home Friday morning (or early afternoon, perhaps about noonish) - with 2 gallons of water as armor against problems.

the problem was, the radiator was totally toast.
so it goes...

200 miles at 35 m.p.h.
a brief history of 11 hours and 7 gallons of water
driving with the heat on high at 93 degrees

it’s only been 35 minutes,
but the dial is alarming,
temperature rising quickly.

i pull off for the first time,
jay farrar on the tape deck,
silos, barn, cornfield -
fields of wildflowers.
all waving on the hot breeze.

this radiator is toast and i’m a long way from home.
flies and bumblebees buzz round me.
i’m sweating.
waiting has always been hardest.
let’s go.

trucks rush by so large so fast,
Bertha rocks in their wake.
farrar still bleeding his heart out on the stereo,
i sit in the car.
cumulus clouds forming overhead,
some cirrus as well,
pulled apart like cotton coming out of a prescription bottle,
like dry cotton candy.

again, pull over.
waiting is the hardest,
let’s go.

found a weird blend of Christian
apocalyptic nightmares
and Y2K techno-speak,
in
newsletter and paperback book
in a phone booth at a rest stop.
interesting, weird.
i take them.

it’s been all of 13 miles.
the car smells funky.
19 miles.
a sheaf of clouds bisects blue skies,
row of oaks across the road;
in my mind i will myself underneath the the clouds,
and surprisingly, feel cooler.
bertha’s flashers (kept on for safety -beware tailgaters)
become a metronome, keeping the beat to the heat
building, building, always building.
heat heat and more heat -
gushing in the windows and pouring from the vents.

many stops later,
i reflect that perhaps this is good,
i need more re-entry time.
don’t get out of Vermont all that often.
think of Charlie and pam’s hospitality,
wish i’d gotten to know billy better.
i think of new york city,
i think of my friends,
i think of the bitter end.
what a sweet spot.

2:30
(two hours and maybe 40 miles into the trip)
a minor triumph:
19 miles before stopping.
i sit in the shade.
take off my watch.
(obsessively glancing at it making me nuts.)
my mind is own fire with ideas and memories.
i can’t wait to get out my oils - paint - type -
driving at 35 m.p.h. i settle for write:
left hand on wheel, left arm burning in the sun,
right hand madly scribbling on notebook
sliding all over the passenger seat.

7:00 pm
dangerously near boiling again, on route 4,
just before Vermont border,
i pull off again.
and surprise, here comes tim,
a good Samaritan.

wife picked up pizza.
beautiful daughters.
he takes out his garden hose
and cools down the whole car.
while his wife brings me pink lemonade
and i romp through the sprinkler with kids and dogs.

tim, rural rt. mail box #2863
on the edge of new york:
thanks so much.

from then on in, things get easier.
we reach the green foothills of Vermont
with purpling mountains rising in the distance,
it’s 7:30 and now we’re in mountain shadow.

new york was a struggle, high noon and afternoon
under merciless hot skies and flat land.
now, shadow and approaching sunset,
hills climbed slow (30 m.p.h.)
and then flying down in neutral,
heat gauge satisfyingly nearing cool:
exuberance, i get a second wind.

after 27 miles, still on rt 4,
 thermometer again in the danger zone.
another stop.
another piss.

i cherish my ratty radiator now, for the
wild rides in neutral after crawling up mountains -
gravitational power running car up to 70 m.p.h. down curving roads
a three quarter moon to my right,
boulder strewn stream to my left

almost home.

if i had known this would happen,
would i have not come?

nah.

thank you levi, brian, dick, and charlie pam bill and bebop jackson plymell.

what a rush.