The Tupelo Traveler

The radar looked like someone had spilled catsup and mustard on it. Blobs of red and yellow covered the route from Memphis to Tupelo. A middle-aged traveling salesman slowly drove his rental car through the pouring rain. A flash of lightning and a loud thunderclap startled him out of his daydream. Rain hitting the windshield looked like he was driving through a carwash.

He hated trips like this. His hands gripped the steering wheel with enough force to bend steel. Another bolt of lightning hit a transformer, sending sparks showering down onto the ground.

OK. That was a sign from above to stop.

He began hoping for a fast-food restaurant or a convenience store. Somewhere to stop and pee and get a cup of coffee. Lightning flashed again, illuminating a dull and drab countryside. The heavy rain had caused the world to be 50 shades of gray. He laughed — no, the rain hadn’t caused the world to look like the famous bestselling sex book. It had just sucked all the color out of the universe. And it made it harder to see while driving.

The ponding water on the roadway caused his front wheels to hydroplane. He felt the car’s traction control kick-in and prevent a sure disaster. Fingers gripped the steering wheel even tighter. “#$%#,” he cussed to himself. This was not fun.

And then he saw him.

A lone figure walked along the side of the lonely Mississippi highway. “Poor fool,” he thought as he slowed the car to prevent accidentally hitting the soaked traveler. And then, against his better judgement, he stopped. Who picked up hitchhikers in this day in age? Sure, this guy could have been Ted Bundy’s apprentice, but years of Sunday School teaching at First Baptist Church in Swampbottom Flats had taught him the importance of being a good Samaritin. He rolled down his passenger window.

“Can I give you a lift?”

The stranger stood there silently in the pouring rain.

“I said, ‘can I give you a lift?'” the driver repeated, this time louder.

The stranger, not lifting his hat that was covering his eyes, nodded. The driver unlocked the passenger side door and the stranger climbed in.

“Where you headed?”

The stranger sat there for a moment and then said, “Tupelo.”

“Well, then, you’re in luck. That’s where I’m headed, too.”

The stranger was an older man, in his mid-to-upper-70’s and good looking. And although the driver couldn’t quite put his finger on it, the man looked familiar.

The driver, craving conversation, began asking the stranger questions. The stranger, craving silence, didn’t not answer them. After 20 miles that seemed like 100, he opened up. “I’m going to where I was born. I make this trip from Memphis once a year.”

The storm had picked up. The radio squawked about a tornado in Marshall County. The driver didn’t doubt it. Never had he driven through a storm like this. Lightning pounded the countryside like an artillery attack.

“What do you do in Memphis?”

“I perform in small clubs occasionally. I sing some but not much. I guess you could say I’m retired.”

The driver looked at the stranger. He was definitely old enough to be retired.

“What do you sing?”

“I love Gospel music. A little Country and Blues, too. Kind of hard to live in Memphis and not sing the Blues. I used to dabble in Rock, too. But that was a long-time ago.”

“Do you have any kids?”

“One.”

“Me, too. I have a son. Don’t speak to him much. I hate that.”

“Family is all you have. Friends come and go. But family — well, they’re with you ’til the end. And sometimes even after.”

The stranger seemed sad. The driver couldn’t help but notice the lines on his face crinkle when he said the last sentence. There was a lot of history on that face.

“They’re having an Elvis Festival up in Tupelo. You going?”

The stranger smiled a slight smile and didn’t say a word. And for the rest of the trip, he sat there in silence.

They stopped in front of Reed’s Store in downtown and the stranger got out of the car. The rain had ceased and a single sunbeam broke through the clouds. Ground fog shrouded much of downtown Tupelo.

And as the driver watched the stranger disappear into the mist, he never knew how famous the Tupelo traveler truly was.

Prologue:

Tupelo, MS — The 2012 Tupelo Elvis Festival Elvis sound-a-like contest was won today by a last minute entrant. The 76-year-old contestant, who only goes by the name, “Aaron,” belted out a rousing version of “Suspicious Minds.” The singer, who refused comment for this story, simply told the judges “Thank you, thank you very much.”