Of Mule And Man

CONCLUSION

Thursday, June 12–Saturday, June 14, 2008

LOS ANGELES, CA

END OF TOUR

Thursday was a blur. Happy to be home, I was in a stupor for most of the day, vibrating as if I was still on the road, utterly useless. Shelley was beautiful as ever—maybe more so—and excited and thrilled that I was home in one piece. My sweet daughter Erin and our lovely friend Patricia, who had teamed up to take such good care of Shelley that she was up and around with only the assistance of a cane, now kept an eye on me to be sure I didn’t walk into a wall. You know how you can get yourself psyched up for a tough job and only when it’s over do you allow the stress of it all to crash in on you? Well, that was me. I did manage to go outside a couple of times to say hello to Mule and unload a few things, but that was pretty much it. I studiously avoided looking at the avalanche of mail awaiting my attention, spoke mostly in grunts, stared into space and tried to ignore the whirling in my brain.

In the evening, Shelley and I sat down to watch the Lakers run up a twenty-four-point lead over the Celtics in a dazzling demonstration of ability guaranteeing that they’d even up the series—only to sit there slack-jawed as they managed to LOSE again.

By Friday it was almost possible to think. Still vibrating, I was finally able to unload Mule and take her out to have a friend look at her crown to make sure she didn’t have any lasting effects from the Louisiana railroad track incident. Not a scratch. Am I surprised to learn she has a hard head?

Checking with Hertz to see if I can return her to a more convenient location than going all the way back to LAX airport, I’m told I cannot without paying a bunch of extra money. Okay, LAX is a pain in the ass, but it isn’t that bad. But I’m also told that if I don’t get her there by 2 p.m.—not possible since it’s already 1:40—I’ll have to pay for an extra day. Fine. I’m not in a big hurry to say goodbye to her anyway.

Saturday morning, my lovely daughter Erin agrees to meet me at LAX and bring me home after returning Mule. As I get ready to leave, Shelley says she’d like to sit in her once before she’s gone. As she settles in the passenger seat, I go through the now-familiar routine to start the engine so she can experience the silence of the electric motor. Shelley is charmed by Mule and wants a ride, so we go back and forth in the driveway for a bit, Mule beeping as we do. Then she wants to try it in the backseat. I’m happy that she’s so appreciative, and Mule is virtually purring with delight as we go back and forth again, Shelley now Miss Daisy.

My sweet wife is knocked out, says so, and it’s clearly a mutual admiration society.

But, time to go. Shelley waves goodbye and Mule honks as we head for the road once again.

The 405 is a mess as usual, and Mule is too busy to talk. It’s just as well, I guess; no need to make her jittery. But I do want her to know how grateful I am for the way she has taken care of me. How do you say thank you to a critter who carried you 8,882 miles, through twenty-nine states, through deserts and mountains, heat and cold, sunshine and downpour, dancing around tornadoes and floods, all in just under five weeks’ time? And did it without—well, almost without—complaint.

This has been a truly extraordinary—certainly life-enhancing if not life-changing—process; engaging with hundreds, maybe thousands of people in states called red and blue, offering thoughts and experiences, challenging viewpoints, and asking consideration of ideas that may be foreign to their lives. To do this and encounter such warmth and generosity, such an open and grateful embrace—even from those who may feel differently—is to have reaffirmed my belief that there is a core of decency and fairness alive in this land, a recognition that the values we all cherish do point in the same direction even if we sometimes become confused or misguided. There is a fundamental truth in the knowledge that all human beings do want the same things: love, attention and respect; and this understanding is what created the spirit of America.

“And you, Mule, have made this adventure possible. You’ve been my guide and protector, my Rocinante.”

“Yup. They’ll give you a wash and polish, curry and comb, lube and oil. Maybe some new shoes.”

As we pull up, Erin is waiting. She gets in and we move into the line that says RETURN. Men direct us into the proper spot and then it’s all business as we get out; a guy checks the papers, jots down the mileage, hands the papers back, directs us to Customer Service and walks away.

As we walk away toward Customer Service, I hear just a whisper, “Bye, Mike.”