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semi-OT: great Sam Cutler Facebook post: yesterday's encounter with Iowa cops

Posted by: swiss ()

Date: May 6, 2014 23:33

I'd mentioned a while back Sam would be here in the US from Australia, and he and his beautiful funny
awesome love, Jackee, would be bombing around America this spring, hosting concerts, doing book signings,
appearing here and there - so here's dispatch from the road that seemed worth sharing. Sam's such a fine
writer -- and jesus, what a tale!
- swiss
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

by Sam Cutler
posted on Facebook May 6, 2014 (7:43am)
TWO LOOSE SCREWS IN IOWA:

Stan (the van) and Sam (the man) and Jackie Befree left California on Friday 2nd May at 8.30pm on highway 580 headed north east to join that great umbilical cord of a road Interstate 80, to go "from sea to shining sea" and cross America. These are the facts, dry as a desert, flat as Iowa, and duller than Nebraska, but of course whilst journeys might START with the bald logistical realities, they very soon morph into something that's so much more.

Joining Interstate 80 I settled down for a night of driving headed north to the high sierras of California and watching a glorious sunset in my mirrors. Sunsets and sunrises in America seem to last forever when compares to Australia - in my country when the dawn is breaking within half an hour the sun will be in the sky. It's to do with being below the equator in the Southern Hemisphere. I like the American version though, tells me I'm in a different part of the world, because at sun-set the sun like a reluctant child slowly winds it's way to bed and the arrival of the night seems to take forever.

I was driving out of a golden pool of light towards the darkness and on either side of a winding highway redwoods and sequoias stabbed at the gentle mauve of the early evening sky - thousands of miles lay ahead, my sweetheart sat beside me, 'Stan the van' purred contentedly and changed down a gear as the road ever-steepened and the altitude increased and the night air crisped and snapped to greet us whilst we shivered into our sweaters and turned up the heater and gave thanks for the warmth from the engine. Flanking the road white patches of remaining snow clung on to the last vestiges of winter, the journey would have been impossible a month earlier with the high passes closed and temperatures of sub arctic intensity - spring was waiting to ambush the sierras and turn the Aspens from grey to green. I could feel the cattle in their winter barns itching to be let out to forage at last on fresh grass, lakes of snow-melt water lay everywhere, the country was about to burst into new found life after the winter hiatus.

California and Nevada passed in a matter of hours and soon I was staring into the lunar landscapes of a Utah dawn. Again, the sky slowly and imperceptibly chose to change it's color, a blush appeared to the east, and after an hour the mountains nestled against the crimson background of a magnificent cowboy dawn where I imagined men stirring from their camp fires and heating up coffee and getting prepared for another day. I pulled over into a rest area and joined my sweetheart in the bed happy with that wonderfully 'decadent' feeling which attends upon going to bed at dawn when one knows the rest of the world around one is getting up and grumbling into consciousness. I allowed myself two hours to sleep, for I had to be in Salt Lake City at noon, (the only meeting I had agreed upon west of Chicago) to do an interview for a community radio station and call in upon some friends for a short 'pit stop' on the journey. I closed my eyes to the soft dawn light and the crisp intensity of the morning air as I nestled beneath a swathe of blankets and felt like a baby in its swaddling clothes. Sleep arrived in seconds.

We made Salt Lake City at 12.20pm to be greeted by a bunch of pleasant folks in a garden and a man from the community radio station feeling important and fussing with his microphones. Ground rules were established, no we wouldn't do a 'formal' interview, we'd just have an open chat with one and all, and he could record that and no I didn't want to actually hold a microphone like some roving reporter, he could just record the whole thing. An hour passed in comfortable discussion with the local people and then we all decided we'd had enough, and I signed some copies of my book. Some people played a little music. I took the opportunity to take a little siesta as I wanted to drive until at least midnight before sleeping. We left at seven with thanks to Suzanne our gracious hostess who wanted to give us food and wine and goodness knows what else, all of which we declined. We possessed everything we needed.

I don't really remember Nebraska - just a series of 'images' remain of somewhat poorly-looking farms that felt as if it was all a bit of a struggle to make a go of being a farmer in those parts. The barns looked feeble, the farm houses unprepossessing, there were trailer homes a-plenty, lots of wrecked cars and old tractors, not much of a 'whiff of money' in these parts, I thought, and the wind seemed merciless as it cut across the monotonous sterile-looking plains. It was hard to imagine anything growing here, but of course it was that time which sits between winter and spring, when the snow has just melted and that part of the world is stirring from their hibernation and thinking once again of going 'courting' and 'making whoopee' and rejoicing at being alive and getting out to work the sleeping fields.

Iowa snuck up on me. Jackie had been driving for a while and I awoke to a completely different landscape of wealthy well-ordered farms, well-dressed fields, and a sense of independent Lutheran self-sufficient-settlement stretching as far as the eye could see. The place positively reeked of money and settled success. We decided we should stop for a shower and found one of those amazing truck stops that are littered across America where one can have a shower, do laundry, eat, and lounge about watching television if that is what one desires. We just wanted a shower, and we both emerged refreshed and feeling like a million dollars. We sat in the van and ate bread and organic cheese and tomatoes - life could not have felt any better - the gas tank was full, it was eight thirty on a Sunday evening and I was prepared to drive until round midnight, then sleep a little and continue at the first sign of dawn. Life felt like 'easy street' and little did we realize it, but there was 'danger at the door'.

We slipped back into the Interstate with Stan sounding just like he always did and within two minutes I noticed that the temperature gauge was rising rapidly. Something was wrong. We made two exits before I pulled off the highway into a lonely farm road some six miles from Altoona Iowa. I pulled over in the middle of 'bum @#$%& nowhere' and stopped. I got out and checked the oil which was fine and noticed that the water in the radiator didn't seem to be boiling - perhaps if we just sat and waited the engine would cool and things would be fine, but it seemed a dubious proposition so we called triple A and after much debate managed to establish with the despatch person (who might well have been in Pakistan) where we and the van were actually located. We settled down to wait, and within three minutes a police car cruised gentle to a halt behind us.

An Iowa state policeman approached the van, and I sat with my hands in clear sight upon the steering wheel. He came up to my window, grinned in a friendly manner and said, "broke down eh?"and I responded in the affirmative. He asked if it was my vehicle I said no that I was here on vacation from Australia and that I was driving across country with my girl whose van it was - he asked to see some identification. I gave him my passport, my international drivers license and my Aussie license. He wandered back to his car. He returned to the passenger side window and asked to see Jackie's identification and once more returned to his car. We waited. Back he came, did she have a social security number? Jackie gave him the number and he asked for the documents for the van and once again made it back to his car.

It was bitterly cold and I stepped out of the van to pull on a sweater and a highly alarmed police office sprung out of his car, assumed a combat position with his hand an inch or two from his pistol and screamed at me "freeze, don't move". I froze and I didn't move and he yelled at me, "don't get out of the car like that. Stay in the car." I went to return to the car and he screamed again "Freeze", I smiled at him reassuringly"hey officer I'm from Australia, you have nothing to worry about mate, I was just freezing bloody cold and wanted to put on a sweater". He nodded and looked unconvinced and said "assume the position - are you carrying any firearms or weapons, a knife?" I smiled again to re-assure him, "hell no officer, I'm from Australia we don't even have guns in Australia". I'd seen enough cop shows to know what he expected of me and put my hands on the van and my legs apart - he approached me very nervously and patted me down. He was no longer friendly. "Get back in the van, and don't get out of the vehicle until I tell you to, you understand?" I assured him very sincerely that I did and rejoined a Jackie who was growing more alarmed by the minute.

The cop returned to his car, did whatever cops do and in a couple of minutes returned to get Jackie and take her to the patrol car to discuss the papers and answer various questions. He sat her in the car and came to my window - now he was all business. "So where did you say you were going." "We're going to a pop festival in Pennsylvania" I said, and as soon as the words were out of my mouth I could sense his attitude hardening. He stared hard at me. "do you have any drugs in this vehicle?" I laughed pleasantly and told him "Officer I gave up drugs in the sixties, I don't smoke or drink and there are no drugs in the vehicle". He was not convinced. "You come with me and sit with your lady in my car, I want to search the vehicle" and with that I was in the back of his car whilst he went about his business. At least it was warm and the engine was running.

We watched as he went round the van in the police car headlights banging with his flashlight on the wheels - what on earth was he thinking? He opened the drivers door and peered inside and then walked purposely back towards his car. He got in the car. "Have you done anything to the dashboard of the car recently?" He asked, and I told him no and that the car was a recent purchase. He asked me where Oregon was !! I told him that it was the next state up from California and he nodded. Then he said, "I found two loose screws in the car, I believe you have marijuahna concealed in the car, I have called the dog squad". I laughed and said "There's no drugs in the car" and Jackie assured him of the same. We settled down to wait the arrival of the two truck and the police drug dog - I was curious to see what type of dog they used. The cop didn't say much, I think he was convinced he'd caught some interstate drug smuggler and that his promotion was all but assured.

Finally another police vehicle appeared and out stepped a cop in quasi-military gear with a German shepherd dog. They approached the van and the office encouraged the dog to smell around the fenders and the wheels, he seemed completely uninterested. The side doors were opened and the dog put into the van - he couldn't care less - finally the handler took the dog to the driver's door and he entered from there to check the dash - nothing. I saw the handler roughly drag the dog out of the van and he walked past us in the cop car giving our zealous 'Sherlock' a withering stare as much as to say "you called me out on a Sunday nite for nuttin' dick head" and he roared away.

You could have cut the air with a knife, and the tension was broken by the perfect-timing arrival of the tow truck. The cop obsequiously handed back to me all of my identification, and gave back all the documents for the van to Jackie. I had told him that I was a writer and earlier had asked him would he like a copy of my book, he said he'd pay for it! I told him, "let me get you a copy of my book, it's a gift" and I went to the van. I signed his book: "to an Iowa policeman, Thank you for your courteous and professional service, Sam Cutler" and by that time the van was on the two truck and it was time to leave. We shook hands. I know ONE thing is for SURE. His mind will be blown when he reads the book - perhaps it'll make up for his disappointment at not being able to bust us? Who knows?

(To be continued).

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