Last Call

The rolling hills of the Wisconsin countryside, spread out before me in various shades of green. The springy compact green of the soybean fields, the taller long sheaf leafed green of the corn, the short spiky green of lawns and the various shapes of greens of the trees on the steep hillsides. The rural roads I drive on, pass through a beautiful, bucolic, landscape dotted by homes, farms, and businesses. I’ve passed horse-drawn Amish buggies, dodged leaping deer, spotted strutting turkeys, and just missed gray farm cats, as they slid into roadside weeds.  

The sun, a bit lower in the sky, gold and tinged with orange, is still visible above the distant hill. As I check the time, I know that I will easily make it back to the office, in La Crosse, before 9:00PM. Without the need to hurry, I can, one last time, enjoy the drive and appreciate the view.

I pass a sign for the next small town, coming up soon, and slow down as I pass through. One gas station/convenient store, a couple of bars, a sign for the elementary school, a bright yellow flock of machines at the farm implement dealer lot, and two small white churches, are right on the town’s main street. I stop at the one stop sign, in this town, and watch as a brown and black dog casually crosses the road. It stops on the sidewalk and looks back at me. Neat trick, I think, even the dog is polite, in this town.

I have been travelling for work, or as I call it, “on the road”, for my job for the past 28 years. I have enjoyed my work, meeting with people and organizing groups, as much as I have cherished my alone time in the car, to think, plan, and enjoy the view. Seven different cars have navigated these roads with me, over the years, and the cars have gotten sharper, as I have gotten a tiny bit slower. The last two vehicles I have been driving, beep at me if I fail to stay in my lane, show me what’s behind the car as I back up, and stop my car if I miss a sudden obstacle in front of me. Fortunately, the cars didn’t tell on me when I missed a truck coming from the left-hand side of a T intersection, that I narrowly missed, when a tree was blocking my view, or complain when I missed the change in the highway grade, due to construction, that rubbed the tire sidewalls at 35 miles per hour.

Over 250 audiobooks, have kept me company as I drove, so many hours, over so many years. I know where the best gas stations and rest stops are, and the ones to avoid, in six counties. I’ve eaten more fast food than I’ll admit to (although my waistline tells on me). I’ve been lost in the middle of nowhere, more than once. I’ve cursed like a trucker, in the confines of my car, at other drivers, construction zones, atrocious roads, frightening weather and at driving directions on many trips. Driving directions have transitioned from a book of maps, to a print out from Mapquest, to a GPS device that plugs into the car cigarette lighter, to the GPS on my phone. But, my saving grace has always been to plan for the trip and to add a cushion of time for unexpected delays. It has kept me calm, focused and perspiration free for most of my business appointments.

As I turn onto the left-hand side on ramp, for highway 90, from highway 94, to head West, I recognize that this is always the hardest part of the drive for me. It’s an hour left of very boring, and often (although not today), very dark highway. Sometimes, I have had to resort to opening a window or two, on this stretch of road, to help fight fatigue and to stay alert. But, as I know this is my last trip for my job, and for any job, my thoughts keep my mind busy. I relish the natural beauty, once again, as I drive the last leg of this trip and of my working career. The sun is setting. This was my last call. My retirement starts tomorrow.

For a few months, before I notified my employer that I planned to retire, I jokingly stated, that, “I’m running out of road.” But, I realized, while driving for work one day, that I’ve been an employee for over 50 years. There are far more miles in the rear-view mirror, for me, than roads to be travelled, as viewed through the windshield. It was shocking, for me, to realize how little road I had left. And, it is challenging for me, to figure out how to plan this next journey. There’s no GPS to navigate this life change. Planning ahead is hard, with no clear destination.  I do know that this driver will not always be the same traveler that I am today.

I make it to the darkened company office at 8:40PM and park the company vehicle in the lot. I let myself into the office, turn on the lights, and leave the last batch of paperwork and the car keys, to be picked up by the office staff on Monday. I walk around the office, one last time and say a silent goodbye to the places I’ve been and the people I’ve known. I turn out the lights, lock the door and leave.

As I unlock the door to my personal vehicle, get in and start it, I wonder, where do I want to go next?