By Scott Sullivan
Editor
Snarl
The red truck in the left lane said “Liberty.” Took forever on the construction-constricted freeway to get around it. Relax, let the road flow through you.
Picture trucking Liberty cross country, unloading at docks using dollies, forklifts, palettes … Behind was an Amazon truck reading “Warning: Contents may cause happiness.” I would stop at other shops, constantly reloading.
I could save mileage costs monopolizing toting goods through Ottawa County, whose new board changed its slogan from “Where You Belong” to “Where Freedom Rings” at the majority’s first post-election meeting. I could furnish truckloads. But …
Did I have the wherewithal to cut rates and outscale competitors in a free market? Or tilt scales? At each stop liberty would be measured; the less weight, the less encumbered my customers would be with mass and volume. Storage and transport would be a snap; tap a button it’s all taken care of. Should one whine, “You dropped off nothing and charged me?” I’d answer, “Think: If I carried more I’d need better shocks on my trucks. Better strategy: replace my fleet with the latest, shiniest couriers. Do you have dough to help me do that?”
Finally a gap in the right lane. I went around it.
… Once I’d let free enterprise reign, I would force out competitors and spread “Liberty” nationwide. Gleaming vessels packed with Ottawa-proven and approved freedom soon would have fresh disciples raving. Once we snuffed other haulers we could name our price …
I returned to the left lane after giving “Liberty” ample clearance but traffic ahead in both lanes snarled again. The red Mack caught up and dogged me, overwhelming my back windshield, panting diesel, so close I couldn’t see driver Vin up high above even in my rear-view mirrors.
Inches from my left tires concrete barriers topped with green counter-traffic blinders — fresh when installed this spring — were crumbling in patches. Several bore black rubber scares; I wondered what fates befell inflictors. Some were knocked 3, 4 or more degrees of line; would cars carom into right-lane traffic and slow everyone to a standstill? State cops close freeways for fatal crash investigations. Seen one, you don’t ever want to see again, but some do two or three times a day.
… “Liberty über alles,” my buyers would chant, allegiance unfiltered, as I took the mic. “I brought, you bought,” I preached. Boos rang from hecklers. “Booze,” I said. “Do not get addicted.”
Vin stayed colossal on my tail till barriers ceased southwest of Holland Exit 55; I sped out of Ottawa as flow loosened drawing nearer Saugatuck.
Light was waiting. Post-noon mid-July I started studies over water in its moods and configurations: still, brackish, boat creased, 180° west horizons that show the earth’s curve on Lake Michigan. Angles, reflections, wave faces, currents below it; cloud formations, sky hues as sun crossed it clarity, haze, birds, a plane or kiteboarder up above …
Saugatuck Yacht Club was hosting kids’ sailing classes. I boyed a Sunfish on Crystal Lake long ago, graduated to crewing on Flying Dutchmen hiking out over water full-length on trapeze. C420s, the two-person larger kids’ SYC boats, flew spinnakers …
On Douglas Harbor Aquatic Doctors were spraying for Eurasian milfoil which had turned most of its topcoat green and slimy. Their 14-foot Carolina Skiff powered by 20hp Mercury outboard plowed clearwater winding rows between the expanse. One Doctor steered and another stood on the bow waving a gun shooting liquid herbicide arcs around it.
Peterson Preserve ponds offered surface slim swirls like nebulas on their mirror-flat surface. Water striders crossed them.
… I drove home the back way, minimizing Macks and stepping up slow-moving farm machinery. Stuck behind one I pictured trading packaged, consumable Liberty for bucolic settlings: Overisel, Burnips, Drenthe … The country. So many stories …
Jamestown, where freedom to read rings if it’s not LGBTQ. What was once Noel’s Lark, then The Chapel at Noel — a churchlike setting for weddings, meals, souvenirs, gifts — was now MKD Funeral – Cremation – Pre Planning.
En route home I stopped at the Grand Rapids Apple Store, which had a Genius Bar. I bellied up. “Northern Spy, Fuji, Gala … what’s ripe?” I asked The Genius.
“Macintosh,” she said. “Brand-new: iPad Air – light, bright, full of might.”
“You err,” I said. “In bright light I might need a lens filter.”
“Over here. The truck just unloaded.” There stood Vin, muscles bulging, Guardian of the Galaxy, unloading polarizers, infrareds; UV and star filters.
“I thought you were spreading Liberty in Ottawa,” I said.
“Didn’t pay enough.”
Vin Diesel, I googled. Net worth $225 million, though estimates vary. “Since when,” I asked, “did Apple make lens filters? Are they free?”
“What does that mean?” he asked. I gathered by that he meant they would never be.