When I get to my car this morning, I find a flyer on my windshield, placed by an anonymous Scientologist, suggesting I take the church’s personality test (the “Oxford Capacity Analysis”), a queer mix of questions that run from vague to confusing to silly.

Do you have a tendency to tidy up a disorder of somebody else’s household?
Are you in favor of color bar and class distinction?
Do you consider more money should be spent on social security?

I am supposed to respond yes, maybe, or no to each question, but I always preferred essay questions to forced choice (something this “test” doesn’t ask about).

Question 3: Do you browse through railway timetables, directories, or dictionaries just for pleasure?

I don’t need their test to tell me that I have an abnormally high sense of curiosity or that I have been feeling aimless and easily frustrated lately. I’ve been in a funk. After a summer of pretty good times in Minnesota, I’m back home and trying to figure out what comes next. I’m not making enough money to call this travel writing-thing an occupation, probably because I lack the marketing skills to make it work. I have to change things up, and I have a decent idea about what I’d like to do, but I’m not sure if it is any more viable. And in the meantime, I need to find a job, something with a more reliable paycheck. But I’d rather browse those railway timetables.

Stewing about these things hasn’t been all that good for me. I’m not sleeping well, and I don’t have much enthusiasm for the things that I normally enjoy, like hanging out in smoke-choked bars with friends.

Question 91: Do you ever get a single thought which hangs around for days?

I’ve become completely obsessed with making a list of songs about the Mississippi River, something that has nothing to do with anything I need to be doing. But I can’t stop myself. It hasn’t been a total loss. Did you know that Kevin Spacey can sing? He recorded a version of Hoagy Carmichael’s Lazy River in 2004. (I guess that’s a ‘yes’ to Question 108: Do you sometimes feel compelled to repeat some interesting item or tidbit?)

So I decided to get out of the house for a day but without checking railway timetables, just a map. The weather has been unusually warm, and I’ve been feeling cooped up. Looking at the map, I thought I would drive south of St. Louis to hike at Trail of Tears State Park, grab lunch in Cape Girardeau, and maybe even see how Cairo, Illinois, is faring in the wake of this summer’s flooding. A busy day, for sure, but totally possible.

I was out the door by 8:30 and out of the city in no time. About an hour out of town, I took a couple of detours to get to the river, but in both cases I would have had to cross railroad tracks, trespass on private property, and hack my way through a thicket to reach the water. I kept driving.

Question 72: Are you perturbed at the idea of loss of dignity?

I need to empty my bladder, but I am still at least thirty minutes from the state park. I spy a gravel road shielded by two fields of tall corn. Perfect. I pull over, then decide to turn around. I put the car in reverse and hit the pedal more forcefully than usual and within seconds I’ve backed into a ditch and my right front wheel is about two feet off the ground. I’m stunned. And then I’m very pissed. At myself.

After a few token attempts to get the car out of the ditch, I get the front door open and jump down onto the gravel. My hands are shaking and unproductive thoughts are racing through my mind. (I can’t believe I just did that. I’m so screwed. I’m so embarrassed. I still need to pee.)

Question 89: Are there some things about yourself on which you are touchy?

Making mistakes has never gotten easier. In college, I was in a therapy group where I admitted as much. Their solution was to have me tell the group three mistakes I made that day, every day, until I was OK with my fallibility. I left the group before that happened. Apparently that was a mistake, too.

As I regain a little composure, I reach for my cell phone to call AAA, only to discover that I don’t have much of a signal. Every time I try to make a call it gets dropped. So I pace some more.

Question 175: Would you rather “wait for something to happen” as opposed to you causing it?

One thing I’ve learned in situations like this is that if you stand around and look helpless, someone usually stops. I’m on a county road that isn’t very busy, so I’m hoping someone will come by soon. Three cars pass me without stopping, but a couple of minutes later, one of them comes back and pulls over. “Are you OK?”

I tell her I’m fine, other than the momentary lapse of common sense that got me into this mess. I really just need someone to call a tow service for me, which she does. She lets them know that I don’t have cell phone service, but they want my number, anyway. As she pulls away, I’m thankful and starting to calm down. I have about an hour wait but at least a truck is on the way.

Question 142: Do you get very ill at ease in disordered surroundings?

What do I do for the next hour, though? I’m in a bowl-shaped valley miles from the nearest hamlet and didn’t bring anything to read, and, of course, I can’t turn to my cell phone for entertainment. I pace for a while, then get my iPod out of the car. I pace some more while listening to river music (what else?) and pick through rocks on the road. (They are much lighter than I expected.)

As I wait, a dozen or more other vehicles stop to ask if I need help, including two people on a motorcycle, a few guys in pickups, even a guy driving a logging truck. I tell them “I’m fine; a tow truck is on the way.” After a while, a simple thumbs up sends the same message. Most folks seem confused or amused by the position my car is in. If the tow truck gets lost trying to find me, all he has to do to ask anyone around Crosstown or Farrar, and I’m pretty sure they can tell him exactly where I am.

**Southern Missouri is covered in Road Tripping Along the Great River Road, Vol. 1. Click the link above for more. Disclosure: This website may be compensated for linking to other sites or for sales of products we link to.

Question 74: Would you criticize faults and point out the bad points on someone else’s character or handiwork?

After an hour-and-a-half of this, I check my phone and notice that I have voice mail. The tow truck still hasn’t shown up and the voicemail is probably from the driver. Two attempts to call my voicemail fail, so I walk across the road and grab enough of a signal for just long enough to hear a message from the tow company: “I just got a truck back. Call me if you still need help.” WTF? How am I supposed to call him? After turning away so many other people who offered to help, now I’m stuck again because someone didn’t understand “My cell phone doesn’t work here?” Time to pace some more.

Just a couple of minutes later, though, Loretta shows up. She lives just down the road from where I was going to pee, in one of the two houses before the road ends. She doesn’t have very good cell service, either, but she takes me up to her house and let’s me call AAA on her land line. Angel! And who knew people still had land lines? I will have to wait another 45 minutes, but, even though I’ve lost a lot of time, this will probably work out better. I don’t have much cash on me, so I wasn’t sure how I was going to pay for the tow. Now AAA will take care of it. (I’m counting that as a ‘yes’ for Question 100: Are you logical and scientific in your thinking?)

Question 191: Does life sometimes seem rather vague and unreal to you?

I walk the quarter mile back to my car, then try to figure out how I’m going to kill another 45 minutes. Shortly after I get back to the car, my little accident is causing a small traffic jam on the county road. A combine needs to turn onto the road where I’m stuck, so he can cut down the corn stalks whose shelter attracted me in the first place. His boss is in a pickup just ahead of him; he stops in the right hand traffic lane and puts on his emergency blinkers. Another pickup is coming down the road from the other direction and stops in the other lane to check out the excitement.

The boss comes over to me, I assume to ask if I need help, but I think he’s much more worried about how the combine is going to make the turn around my stranded car. I watch as the combine crawls forward, then slowly pivots right as the header (a wide row of spiky tines) just squeezes between a stop sign and my awkwardly positioned car. Safely around the obstacles, he gets out to ask if I need any help and to try to figure out how the hell I got my car in that position.

He’s soon back to work in the field and the traffic jam clears, leaving me alone again trying to pass the time. It’s not long, though, before the tow truck shows up and easily pulls my car out of the ditch. The car is fine; no damage to the tires or anything else that we can see. It’s in better shape than me. I’m still embarrassed and mad at myself. I was stranded for 2 ½ hours; I’m hungry; I’ve lost the better part of my day to entertaining strangers with my stupidity and playing with rocks on a gravel road. At least I feel comforted by the number of people who stopped to offer help.

Question 114: Would you consider yourself energetic in your attitude toward life?

View from Trail of Tears State Park

Back on the road, I don’t have much enthusiasm for detours, so I head right to Cape Girardeau and look for something to eat. I finally get to the river where I find a place to sit and eat a homemade meatloaf dinner I bought from a small grocery store on Broadway. After my late lunch, I make a half-hearted attempt to explore but I end up finding more dead ends than river views. (Why is it so hard to get to the Mississippi south of St. Louis?) I finally get to Trail of Tears State Park around dusk, with just enough light to see what kind of hiking I missed out on and to enjoy the best views of the day.

Question 173: Do you cope with everyday problems of living quite well?

I think I overuse the word “funk.” The reality is that the things I’ve been experiencing—not enjoying my usual activities, feeling down, having trouble concentrating—are all signs of depression. I recognize these symptoms, because I am a trained psychologist (or, at least I used to be), although they are much more obvious in other people than in myself. I haven’t just been in a funk, I’ve been feeling depressed, and today’s road trip was supposed to provide a salve. Did it work?

Oddly enough, in spite of it all, I feel better. I made a stupid mistake and no one got hurt, and it only cost me time. I met a lot of nice folks who took the time to stop and offer help, and I take solace in the fact that I probably stimulated a few dining room conversations in eastern Perry County. I can live with that. Next time, though, maybe I can find a way to improve my mood that keeps all four of my wheels on the pavement.

© Dean Klinkenberg, 2011

Community-supported writing

If you like the content at the Mississippi Valley Traveler, please consider showing your support by making a one-time contribution or by subscribing through Patreon. Book sales don’t fully cover my costs, and I don’t have deep corporate pockets bankrolling my work. I’m a freelance writer bringing you stories about life along the Mississippi River. I need your help to keep this going. Every dollar you contribute makes it possible for me to continue sharing stories about America’s Greatest River!

Become a Patron