Dugo

DUGO

Dugo parked his rig along the side of the highway long enough to check his map. He scrateched his head as he tried to remember where the radio DJ said the pickin' and grinnin' would be, then looked at his watch. It was 5:30. That meant he would have time to grab a fast hamburger then search out the pickin' before it grew dark. The jam didn't start until nine o'clock, but he wanted to be early in order to scope the place out. Just thinking about the jam made his spine tingle.

His dispatcher's voice echoed in his head. It was as if Bo was right there as he said, "The next time you're late for a delivery, that's it for you--no more driving for Baxter Freight Lines. I'm tired of explaining your mess-ups and making excuses for you to the boss and our customers. Either you drive a truck or play your guitar. Make up your mind, Dugo."

Dugo winced. He needed to drive a rig for a living. That was all he knew except for playing the guitar. He strummed a mean guitar or, at least, he thought so, but it didn't bring in much money. It was strictly a sideline and he knew he'd best keep it that way if he wanted to continue eatihng. Still, he daydreamed about guitars and gigs and never hearing Bo's respy voice again. He knew he could not afford to dwell on it because he might do something stupid like quit his job.

Dugo figured he would have time to make the pickin' and get to his delivery point in plenty of time. After all, he didn't have to deliver in Harrisville until after Noon tomorrow. He thought he could lmake the two-huindred miles or so in the morning. He'd make one coffee stop, then drive straight through.

Dugo found the pickin' and grinnin' in an old barn on a lone country road. He could tell it had rained. The road was mushy red clay with deep potholes filled with water. He was afraid his semi would bog down, but kept driving to avoid losing momentum and getting stuck for sure. As it was, his wheels spun out a time or two, but then he hit solid ground and was able to move on.

He left his guitar in the tractor so that he could look the situation over before making a commitment to play. Most pickin' and grinnin's were the same. The players were pretty well divided into cliques. Some welcomed newcomers--some didn't. If he felt an icy chill, he would move on, though hesitantly.

A burley man sauntered up to Dugo as he entered the door and slapped him on the back.

'Hiya, friend, how you doing? I'm Gus Dugan. And you are?"

"Dugo Finnegan."

"Do you play?

"Yes, the guitar," Dugo managed afterd catching his breath.

"Lead or rhythm?" Gus asked.

"Rhythm."

"You're welcome to join in. You have your guitar? Don't see you toting one."

"Yeah, Dugo replied. "I left my box in the rig. Thought I would feel my way around first,"

Gus stared at Dugo as he wrinikled his fat cheeks. "Your rig? You drove a rig in here on that muddy mess of a road? You'll be lucky to get out of here. Probably have to wait 'til daylight so you can see your way clear. Been raining every day for the past two weeks, found potholes we never knew existed before."

He laughed, then slapped Dugo on the back again.

"So, what brings you to these parts?" Gus asked as he led Dugo towared several other men.

Dugo's face reddened. "Haven't been here before. Just passing through and heard about this jamming on the radio."

"Ah, so my ammouncement did hit the air waves," Gus said. "The station assured me they were running it but I got to wondering. You're the only new one that's come along in a spell."

Dugo was drawn to Gus and his homey ways, but he felt uncomfortable as they joined three other men: one with a banjo, one with a guitar, the other with a bass. He knew they'd beren watching him from the moment he entered the building and it set worms to crawling on the back of his neck.

"I know you probably won't remember names, Dugo," Gus said, "but this is Bubba, Zeke and Joel."

"Glad to meet ya." Dugp stuck his hand out, but no one ventured to shake it. In fact, the only response was a "humph" out of Zeke. Dugo pulled his hand back, then looked at Gus. He didn't want to hurt the old man's feellings, but with things feeling a little frosty, he wasn't sure if he wanted to stay.

"Let's go get that guitar of your's, Dugo. I want to see what you can dop with it."

"I don't know." Dugo grimaced in thought. "I might as well be on my way. Those fellas act like they aren't exactly happy about my being here."

"Hold on, Dugo. This is my barn and my pickin'. They might not like it, but they have no say as to who comes and goes. Now, let's get that guitar of your's."

Dugo and Gus sloshed through the mud and as they neared the gleaming red semi with silver lettering, Gus said, "Aw, Dugo, this is a beaut. You own it?"

"Naw," Dugo replied. It belongs to Baxter Freight Lihnes. Fact is, they own this truck and me too. I'd like to own my own tractaor some day, but, at the rate I'm going, that'll never be."

"You sound a mite unhappy there. Son," said Gus. "Any particular reason?"

"Nothing I care to go into."

Dugo climbed the ladder rungs of the cab with Gus right behind him. The old man's eyes opened as big as bottle caps as he scanned the inside of the tractor. "Looks mighty comfy. A cot, microwave, even a frig? Gee this is somethin' else."

Dugo smiled as he used one hand to swipe the hair out of his face. "Yeah, and I rigged up a TV on the other side too." He pointed to a cabinet over the foot of the cot.

"TV? You've got TV too" Gus' mouth gaped open. "When do you get to watch it?"

"Lots of times, especially when I'm being loaded or unloaded. Seems they always take their sweet time. I get tired of nothing to do but wait. Of course, sometimes I do a little strummin'.

Gus' attention riveted on Dugo's guitar as he pulled it out from the overhead space at the rear of the cab. "I never would have guessed. You've got all sorts of nooks and crannies seems like."

"Yeah, if it weren't for Bo." Dugo halfway mumbled.

"Bo? Who's Bo?"

"Aw, never mind. I'd rather forget him, at least for tonight. Let's get back to the jam."

"Let's." Gus nodded in agreement. "We'd better hurry. Looks like we're in for another gully washer.

Gus and Dugo trekked the muddy path back to the barn. Bubba, Zeke and Joel stopped playing as the old barn door creaked open.

Dugo overheard Joel ask Zeke, "What kind of name is Dugo anyway? Never heard that one before."

"Me neither. It's a strange one to me."

Gus followed the line of Dugo's gaze. "Don't pay them no heed, son. They're not accepting of anyone first off. Cuts 'cross their grain. "Sides, they're not up for competition."

"Competition?" Dugo asked. "I'm just here for a good time, not to compete.

Gus smiled, "You and I know that, Dugo, but they don't. Come on. Let's teach them a lesson in having a good time."

Dugo returned Gus' smile. "Is that a challenge?"

"Could be. Are you up to it?"

"You bet."

Bubba, Zeke and Joel watched Dugo constantly throughout the evening. They played some new tunes, old, blue grass, country and western, even some rhythm and blues. Dugo never missed a beat.

Gus beamed with delight later in the evening and said, "I declare, Dugo, the four of you jam well together. You can come back any time."

Dugo wasn't sure about returning. He still felt the ice of those around him. Only Zeke gave him a halfway decent smile. Bubba and Joel continued to ignore him as much as possible.

Gus walked Dugo back along the mushy mess of slick red clay to his rig when the playing was over. There was a full moon that night so they had no trouble seeing where they were going. Even so, not once, but twice, Dugo almost lost his balance.

"Let me have that guitar, son. At this rate you're going to drop it."

"Sounds like you're more interested in the guitar than me, Gus."

"Now, where'd you get an idea like that? Of course, I'm interested in the guitar, but I'm more interested in the man who plays it. Humor me a bit, son. Let me say somehwere down the road that I carried the guitar of the famous Dugo Fdinnegan."

"Me? Famous? I don't think so. 'Sides, I don't have time to get famous. I'm too busy driving a rig."

As they approached the truck, Gus said, "Ever think about driving a bus?"

Dugo frowned, then said, "Me? No way. I have enoough trouble with a semi. I don't need human cargo to complicate it for me. Besides, I'm pretty much a loner."

Dugo stepped up into the cab and settled down in the driver's seat. Gus waited outside in the mud as the engine roared to life. Dugo rolled down the window, stuck his head out, and yelled, "You can go on, Gus. I'll be all right."

"Just makin' sure, son, just makin' sure."

Dugo had just rolled the wihdow back up when suddenly Gus banged on the door. Dugo rolled the window down again.

"What is it?""

"Your wheels are spinning, but you ain't going no place."

"I'll find a way out of here. Dugo revved the engine and Gus stumbled into a mucky puddle as he jumped to get out of the way., He looked down to find himself covered in wet red splotches. Dugo's wheels spun as he attempted to move forward and resulted only in splattering the under carriage of the trailer and mud flaps with oozy red slime. He threw the semi into reverse. The ruts deepened and red mud now covered the top of the cab and windshield, but Dugo wasn't going anywhere.

"Gus frantically waved his arms. Again, Dugo rolled the window down. "What is it, Gus? I don't have time for small talk."

"Small talk? Son, you'd best get down out of that cab and look this situation over."

Dugo dutifully climbed out of the cab. It looked as if red mucky mud covered everything, even Gus. Dugo couldn't help but laugh. Gus was a sight.

"What you laughing at, boy?"

"You, you're all red. I mean from head to foot."

Gus joined in the laughter. "So, you think it's funny, do you? With that, Gus picked up a handful of the sloppy mud and threw it at Dugo."

"All right, old man, you've asked for it. Dugo slung some mud at Gus and the fight was on.

They had frolicked for several minutes when Dugo slipped and fell.

Gus plopped down beside him and began to laugh..

"What's so funny, Gus?"

"Whew, it was almost liie being a kid again in a snowball fight. Only thing is, it's a lot messier. Look at you, boy. You're a mess. You're about as red as that there truck, 'ceptin' the truck's not the same red it was."

"Yeah, I don';t know about you, old man, but I had fun. I just hope this goop doesn't dry on me and I become a statue."

The two broke out in laughter again.

"Dugo Finnegan, trucker and would'be guitarist. That's what the plaque on your statue would read," said Gus.

The two grew quiet for a short while. It was Gus who broke the silence.

:You know, son, you might ought to consider spending the night with the missus and me."

"But..."

"No buts aboutg it. You're a mess and need a good cleaning. "''Sides, that rig of you're ain't goin' nowhere, not tonight anyways."

"But, I wouldn't want to put you out. I could sleep in the rig."

"Put us out? Son, it would be a joy for you to stay the night. "'Sides, like I said, you need some real cleaning up."

Dugo scanned his shirt and jeans. He was a mess. "I gaess you're right." He was silent for a moment. "I'd be much obliged."

The two had trouble standing up after sitting in the mud, but once they did, they slipped and sloshed down the road to Gus' home.

Molly Dugan heard the front door open.

"Gus, where've you been?" she asked wthout looking up from the television set. "I thought you'd be home long ago."

Only then did Molly turn around to see two muddy creatures standing at the edge of her baby blue carpet.

"Gus?" She furiously motioned for them to retreat. "Not on my carpet. You take your friend and go around back. You're not messing up my clean house."

Gus nodded to Dugo and the two dutifully started back toward the garage.

"You might want to hose ofrf," she called afater them."

"That's an idea," Dugo said. "I'm not ready to be a mold for that statue yet."

The two laughed as Gus pulled the hose off the garage wall and turned on the faucet. Dugo was suddenly immersed in a heavy spray of water.

"Gus! Do you have to have that tap wide open? You just about knocked me off my feet."

"What? You can sling mud, but you can't handle a little water?" Gus asked as he let out a cackle.

"A little water?" Dugo managed before GUs doused him from head to toe. Dugo stood in a red puddle of water. "You wait, old man," Dugo said when he caught his breath. "Your turn's coming.".

"Gotta get you clean first thought, son," Gus said with a laugh.

Dugo trembled. "That's cold."

"Hose dohn't spout no hot water. Thought you'd know that. YHo'd probably complain it was too hot anyway."

"Right now, that sounds good," Dugo said through chatteringt teeth. "You waot/ You kust wait."

Dugo showed no mercy when gus' turn came.. He'd been sprayed from head to toe three or four times when Molly called from the back door.

"You boys best get inside. TV says it's about to pour down and tornadoes coming from the west."

"Pour down? With the moon as pretty as it is?" Gus questioned as he trembled. "You mean we just wasted all this water?"

Dugo followed Gus in the door and through the kitchen. A trail of water marked their path and Molly followed behind with the mop.

"Nice place you have here," Dugo said as they made their way down a hallway.

"Thanks." Gus pointed to a door on the left. Son, there's plenty of clothes in that closet. Help yourself. They should be about your size."

"But..."

"No buts, Dugo. They belonged to my son, Jimmuy. We lost him in Desert Storm."

"Oh, I'm sorry, Gus."

"Needn't be. Been a long time. It don't hurt like it died. Now, get yourself in there and into some dry clothes. I'll be waiting in the kitche and Molly'll fix us up something.

Dugo rummaged around in Jimmy's closet until he found a pair of jeans and a green stripped shirt. The change of clothes felt good.

The bed looked inviting, but he dared not get too comfortable. After all, he still had the semi to think about. He would have to get an early start in the morning if he was going to make it to Harrisville in time. Dugo was almost to the bedroom door when Gus called.

"You ready to fill that belly of your's?"

"I guess." Dugo wasn't used to eating family style. Most of his meals came from fast food restaurants or truck stops. This would be a change.

Molly had fixed fried chicken, mashed potatoes and green peas topped off with peach cobbler.

For the most part the conversation was chit-chat; that is, until Gus asked, "Dugo? Where'd your folks come up with that name. It's different. I'll give them that."

"Dugo's face reddened. "Well, actually..."

"I'm sorry," Gus said, "if I got too personal..."

"It's not that. It's just that it's sort of embarrassing. See, my real name is Derrick Hugo Finnigan, III."

"Whoa, now that's a handle. But, how...?"

"Mom and Dad had a habit of calling me by both my first and middle names. But, Maggie, my little sister, couldn't handle it. She got the D in Derrick, but slid over the rest of it right into Hugo. It never failed. It came out as Dugo and it stuck. Thata's what I've gone by ever since."

There was a sudden lull in the conversation. Gus pushed his plate aside and began to tap his fingers rhythmically on the table. The only other sound was the ticking of the clock above the sink.

Gus finally spoke. "Dugo, you ever gave a thought to driving a bus?"

"No, I haven't, Gus. I told you that before."

"Might be an option."

"How so?"

"Well, you don't seem to be too happy with Baxter Trucking and I'm looking for a bus driver."

"Oh, Baxter's all right. It's Bo. He's a real pain, always on my back about something."

"He wouldn't be if you were to take a notion to drive for me."

Dugo clapped his hands together and smiled. "You're a stubborn old man. You know that?"

"I've been told often enough. Come on. What d'ya say? It'd be a whole new experience. You and me, we'd be like father and son."

Molly, who had been listening in silence, put her hand on Gus' shoulder. "Now, Papa, if Dugo doesn't want to drive for you, you can't make him."

"Mama, let me talk to Dugo about this on my own. If he says no, he simply says no."

"But, you're trying to make him into our Jimmy and it can't be done. Jimmy's gone, Gus, he's gone and you can't bring him back."

"I'm not either. I just..." Gus' eyes grew misty. "I just, the boys, they want to go on the road. I promised them as soon as I found a driver we could."

Molly bit her lip and her hands trembled. "What am I supposed to do? Sit here and pine away while you're out having a good time?"

"Of course not, Mama, you'll be right there with us. You'll be doin' the cookin."

"You could''ve said something about me cooking long before now."

Gus' face reddened. "Now, Molly, I just thought, I mean, well, seems like you have a hankerin' for cookin' and the boys like to eat."

Molly's forehead wrinkled. "I don't know...anyway, it's up to Dugo and whether he wants to drive."

Gus placed his hand on Dugo's shoulder. "What'ya say, my boy? Will you do it?"

Dugo raked his hand through his thick black hair. "I don't know. I'll have to give this lots of thought. By the way, when you say 'the boys' who are you talking about?"

"I didn't tell you? Bubba, Zeke and Joel."

Dugo frowned. "I don't know. They didn't take much liking to me., That could be a problem."

Gus slapped Dugo on the back and Dugo sputtered. "That's no problem, son. Once they found out you'd be driving, they'd take a real liking to you. They're really hankering to get on the road and play some gigs across country,"

Dugo smiled. "I get it. They'd like me because I did the driving, not because of me."

Gus slapped Dugo on the back once more and nearly knocked him off his seat.

"I wish you'd quit doing that, old man. That doesn't feel good."

"Used to do that to Jimmy all the time. He never complained."

Dugo frowned and his forehead refvealed deep wrinkles. "I'm not Jimmy," he said quietly,

Molly placed her hands on Gus' shoulders. "Now, Papa, you're going to make this young man mad if you're not careful. You don''t want that".

An uneasy silence filled the room. Finally, Gus said, "Suppose we'd best get to bed. The hour's getting on and you need to see about that semi early."

As good as Jimmy's bed felt, Dugo tussled and tossed most of the night. What sleep he got was dream-filled. Bo's image kept fleeting in and out of his mind. What if he couldn't get the truck out of the mud in order to make it to Harrisville in time? Would he be fired? Bo had threatened several times, but always changed his mind. This might be the time Bo didn't back off. What would he do then? What if he accepted Gus' offer? Could he make a liiving driving a bus? He's have to get an endorsement added to his comercial driver's license before he could do anything. A restful sleep finally engulfed Dugo in the early morning.

Gus knocked on the door. "Dugo, you up?"

"Aw, just let me sleep."

"Son, you've got to get up and see about that semi of your's."

"Good gosh! What time is it?"

"Seven o'clock," Gus yelled through the door.

"Give me a second and I'll be with you. Gotta get with it. Bo will be all over me if I don't make that delivery in time."

"Thaere's coffee on the kitchen counter and I've already called the wrecker. Ben is on the way out now."

"Say what? You shouldn't have done that. I need to notify Baxter so they can call a wrecker."

"I thought the idea was that they wouldn't know, that you would make your appointment on time without them knowing."

"Yeah, but I don't have the cash for a wrecker."

"Son, it's on me."

Gus was waiting outside Jimmy's bedroom when Dugo entered the hall. "You can't do this, Gus. This is not your responsibility. I'm the one who drove into the muck. I should be the one to pay."

Gus squinted at Dugo. "I thought you just said that you don't have the money."

"Well, I don't but..."

"But what? You're going to let Bo ride you, maybe get fired?

"Yeah, but that's my doing. You shouldn't have to pay."

"I want to, son. That way you owe me."

"But you never knew me before last night."

"Doesn't matter. You're my kind and I like you and I'm going to help whether you like it or not."

Dugo shrugged his shoulders. "Like I said before, you're a stubborn old man."

"No more than you."

The doorbell rang and Gus went to answer it.

"Mr. Dugan? That's the semi down the road there?" Dugo heard from down the hallway.

"Ah, Ben, yes, I'd be much obliged if you could get that thing out of there."

"I'll see what I can do. It may take a while though. Looks like it's in deep."

Dugo's palms were sweaty and he shook despite himself. He didn't like Gus taking over for him.

Dugo walked down the hall and to the living room. "Gus, let me take care of this. After all, it is my rig."

"You the driver of that semi?" Ben asked.

"Yes, can you get it out for me?"

"Like I told Mr. Dugan, it looks like it's going to take a while."

"What do yoou mean buy 'a while'?"

"Oh, probably two and a half, three hours, three and a half at the most."

"No, no, it can't be any three and a half hours. I've got to deliver in Harrisville at Noon."

"Sir," said Ben, "I'm afraid there's no way you can make it. By the way, your company pahing for this?"

"Yeah..."

"Ben, I'm paying for this," Gus cut in.

Dugo's face reddened and he slammed his hand against the door jamb. "Gus, I wish you'd let me tend to my own business."

Gus' cheeks crinkled and his eyes moistened. "I was just trying to help."

Dugo turned Gus around and put his hands on his shoulders. "I'm sorry. I didn';t mean to be so harsh. I know you're trying to help, but I'm the one who got into this fix and I have to get me out. I'll call Baxter and get authorization, tell Bo what happened. I'll have to face it sooner or later, especially since I can't make Harrisville in time., He'll have my hide."

"And fire you," Gus added.

Dugo gritted his teeth. "Probably so. I'll just have to face it. Where's the phone? I'll call right now."

Gus directed Dugo to a small office to one side of the living room. Dugo slowly dialed the Baxter Corporate offices. He was in no hurry to talk to Bo.

"Hello."

"Bo?"

"Yes, Dugo?"

"That's me."

"Where are you?"

"A little place called Dockersville."

"What in the...? Don't tell me...a gig. Right?"

"Well," Dugo swallowed hard. "I've got a problem."

"You've always got a problem. What is it this time?

Bo was so loud that Dugo had to hold the receiver away from his ear until he no longer heard the rauous voice on the other end of the line.

"The rig's stuck in the mud," Dugo said slowly.

"Mud? Where'd you get into mud? Never mind. Where are you exactly. I'll call a wrecker."

Gus had been eavesdropping from the hallway. Before Dugo knew what happened, Gus had the receiver and was talking to Bo.

"No need to call a wrecker. I've already done that."

"Who is this? What happened to Dugo." Bo's voice grew louder as he spoke.

"Never mind," Gus yelled back into the receiver. "Dugo quits. He don't need the likes of you."

"What? Who are you anyway I'd like to know."

"That don't matter..."

Dugo grabbed the receiver out of Gus' hand. "Bo?"

"Who the... What's going on? You quit?"

"No, I'm not quitting." Dugo's face was flushed."

"But, the other fellow."

"I know, but..."

"It doesn't matter, Dugo. Fact is, you're in more trouble tha being in the mud. You hear me? You get that semi out of the mud and you make the Harrisville delivery. I'll call and tell them you'll be late. After that, you need to dead head to the terminal. Go straight to Gray's office. He'll have all the paperwork you need to sign."

"Bill Gray in Safety?"

"Yeah," Bo shot back. "You got a problem with that?"

"I'm fired?"

"I can't do it, but Bill can and I'll make sure..."

Gus grabbed the receiver again. "You can't fire him 'cause he quits."

Dugo shakily reached for the receiver, but Gus backed away just enough so that he couldn't get it.

"Please, Gus, let me talk to Bo."

"I heard that. No need for any more talk. Just have Dugo get that semi in here ASAP."

Bo slammed the receiver down and the line went dead.

Gus stared at it a moment then said, Well, that's taken care of."

"Gee, thanks, Gus. Now what am I going to do?"

"That's easy. You're going to be our bus driver."

"But, I told you I don't have that endorsement on my driver's license."

"Is that a big deal?"

Dugo thought a moment. His head was spinning after the conversation with Bo. "I guess not. I'll need to do some studying, then take the test."

"Where do you do that?"

"At the Highway Patrol Headquaraters in my home state."

"By the way, where you from?" Gus smiled sheepishly."

"Alabama."

"Whoa, that's d a mighty distance from here, almost a day's travel. You can't do it here?"

"I guess I could, but that would mean changing my residence to Missouri."

"That'd be all right since you'll be driving a Missouri bus.

"Now, Gus, I negfer said I would."

"What else better have you got to do? You're out of a job and I need a driver."

"First things first," Gus. I've got to figure out what to do wi th all my stuff. I don't want to be stripping the tractaor on Baxter property and everybody gawking at me."

"What d'ya mean 'strippin'?"

"You know, my microwave, CB, such stuff as that."

"That's no problem. We've got plenty of room here. Besides, I was rather hoping you'd make your home here with the Missus and me."

Dugo stared at Gus for a moment. "Old man, are there any other plans you have for me because I'd like to know."

Gus looked at the floor as his face reddened. "No, I gess not. Not now anyway."

"That's good because I'm used to making my own decisions."

The doorbell rang and Gus went to answer it. "Oh, yeah, Ben."

"Yes, Mr. Dugan, I got that semi out sooner than expected. That'll be..."

"Shh, let's go out on the porch and I'll settle with you,"

Dugo and Gus spent most of the day dismantling the trailor of his belongings. The Dugan garage began to look like a warehouse with microwave, CB, clothes and what have you stacked unevenly one upon the other.

Gus and Dugo rose early the next morning. Dugo drove the Baxter truck while Gus followed in his old Dodge pickup. The Harrisville delivery went off without a hitch. Bo was nowhere to be found when they arrived at the Baxter terminal.

Dugo wiped his brow before knocking on Bill Evans' door. Gus waited in the recepotion area and had begun to snooze when Dugo returned.

"That was fast," Gus said.

"Yeah, a lot faster when they fire you than when they hire you."

"Ready to go?"

"Yeah, let's go home," said Dugo.