The Feet of God

44 - UNDERNEATH WE’RE ALL THE SAME

We played just one night in Tie Siding, then, right after Bobby collected the receipts for the show, we headed down 287-South and picked up 34-East through Kelim, passed Brush running along the opposite side of the South Platte River from I-76, then drove up Highway 138 to our next gig at a little roadhouse called The Gambol, which is located smack dab between Proctor and Crook.

It wasn’t easy keeping up with where we was from day to day.  It didn’t so much feel like we was following a schedule or anything from one show to the next, but more like fleeing, hightailing it, and vamoosing from one show to the next.

Along about three or four o’clock in the morning I’d just have to crawl into the back of the bus with the rest of ‘em and burrow down into a pile of funky clothes so’s I could catch a little shuteye.  Meanwhile, Freddy was speeding us to our next destination.  He was amazing.  He’d be up there humming tunes, bobbing his head back and forth, chewing gum and giving every passing vehicle the ol’ thumbs-up and wink job.  The whole time I was with The Cowridge Clan, I swear, I never ever saw Freddy sleep once.  You gotta admire a man who puts so much energy into his career.

On the fifth morning of my travels on “The Intimate Venue Tour,” as we pulled through Hershey, I laid awake feeling the vibrations of the bus on the highway, the monotonous drone of tires on the road, and the rhythmic motion of the bodies around me as they rolled with every turn.

While the others slept, I crawled up to the seat behind Freddy.  We streaked through Cozad then turned up 183-North to 92-East, until around daybreak we pulled into a gas station in Loup City.

Freddy turned to me, his eyes all shiny with excitement, “Come on, let’s see where our next performance will be happening.”  He opened the door and hopped out.  I followed behind him.  Freddy approached an elderly gentleman sitting behind the counter.  “Hey there, would you happen to know where The Loup de Loup Bar & Grille is?”

The old coot’s eyes narrowed, “You all Frenchie or somethin’?”

“Oh no, we’re proud Americans.  Red, white and blue.  You bet!”  Freddy flashed his trademark thumb to emphasize the point.

“Yeah?” the codger wrinkled his nose.  “Well it sure smells like somebody’s haulin’ a load of ripe cheese around here.”

Freddy and I exchanged glances.

It hadn’t occurred to me until the old gas jock mentioned fragrances, but I’d been with The Cowridge Clan for a full five days and our hectic schedule had afforded none of us, including me, the opportunity to avail ourselves of bathing facilities.  Now in my old home in Broken Heart Park back in Bakersfield this might not have been too unusual, all things considered, but you’d expect Hollywood types for being more hygienically, well, not so cheesy.

As I pondered this the geezer said, “I figured you to be from Yurp or somethin’ what with your fancy pronunciations and all.  If you’re lookin’ for a place called The Loup de Loup Bar & Grille I can’t tell you where that might be exactly, but it’s more’n likely over by North Loup, this here bein’ Loup City.”

Freddy broke into spasms of winks.

The codger said, “Well, it’s all there in the name, ain’t it?”

I went, “Huh?”

“The Loup de Loup Bar & Grille?  Now down here in Loup City we’re just plain, simple, God-fearin’ folks, and we pronounce Loup like soup.  But not up there in North Loup, no sir.  Up there where they have places like The Loup de Loup Bar & Grille, they pronounce Loup like loop.  Hear tell half of ‘em put an ‘e’ toward the end just to be uppity bastards.  Don’t mean to offend, but ya can’t blame me for thinkin’ you might be Frogs or somethin’ for puttin’ on airs the way you said Loup de Loup and smellin’ like a spread of stinky cheese.”

I changed the subject, “Can we get six coffees?”

He nodded to his left, “Machine’s over there, help yourselves.  Ya might wanna get those in to-go cups, if you catch my drift.”

While Freddy slipped dollars into the vending machine for coffees (point of interest:  I paid for nothing out of my own pocket after day one), I looked at him like he was a real person for the first time, and not the Fabulous Freddy I knew from TV fame.  I could appreciate he was a celebrity who was an ordinary guy just like me.  And I can say for a fact that as much as The Cowridge Clan changed their costumes, and even if they drenched themselves in cologne, underneath it all, they was all filthy dirty.