Baton Rouge is a lousy town to find yourself broke in, but my honey and I were busted flat, and we needed to get to New Orleans for a job offer. To make matters worse the sky was black, and we could smell rain.

“Let’s hitch,” Bobbie said.

“Honey, that’s not a good idea, what happens if we get dropped off in the middle of nowhere and it’s pouring down rain.” I replied.

“Okay. Do you have a better idea?”

“No, I don’t,“ I had to admit.

Bobbie said, “Before we accept a ride, we’ll find out how far they’re going.”

 So that’s what we decided to do. We stood alongside the road with out thumbs out. Ten or twelve cars zoomed by, without even slowing down, before a trucker pull over. “Where are you kids headed?” he called down from the cab of his truck.

Bobbie gave him her winning smile, “New Orleans. How far are you going?”

“Jump in,” he said, “You’re in luck, that’s just where I’m heading.” He swung the door open and we climbed in. The truckers name was Adrian Torres, and his home was some little town in Colorado. He was hauling cantaloupes to New Orleans, and then deadheading back to Colorado.

Adrian said, “I hope you kids don’t mind, but I like to sing while I’m driving, takes my mind away from the miles of nothing.” With that, he broke into song. He liked country songs, and so did we, so we joined in.

Bobbie nudged me in the ribs, “Get out your harmonica.”

 The miles sped by, and I think we sang every song that Adrian knew. It was raining now, and the wipers seemed to join in, keeping time with our songs.

 Bobbie and I had started our trek together after meeting in a California orange grove where we were picking oranges for minimum wages. We worked our way east, working small job and moving on. In Kentucky, I tried the coal mines and lasted one day, and never went back for my pay.

 We made it to New Orleans, but the job was filled, so we decided to return to California. When we reached Nevada, we got into a big row. Bobbie wanted to head north to Canada, and I wanted to return to California, so somewhere around Salinas we split up. That was the worse thing I’ve ever done, and I’d give all of my tomorrows to have her back. I’ll always miss my Bobbie McGee.      

RATE THIS CHAPTER!

Author guidance for This story

This is a challenge. Take any song you like and build a story around it. And just in case we might not recognize the song, list the song title at the end of your story. Have Fun.

updated Mar 23 '09 by WyattAapr