I’ve always been curious, and I always thought I would see the world, or a major part of it. But from my earliest memories, I had no clue how to accomplish that. For a time, I settled for letting the world come to me, so to speak.

 

Like my buddies, I am sure, I always tried to learn whatever I could about the outside world from the people who moved to or passed through our little farming/ranching outpost near the New Mexico Border.

 

I can remember quickly befriending a kid from (what I then considered to be a big city) Lubbock, who conveniently moved in behind our family’s house. Another new friend came to Vega from Liberal, Kan., and or Kermit, Texas by way of his dad’s first stint as a high school principal. I don’t know where Chano was from, but I was intrigued by his tales of playing marbles with a dried-up, hardened cow’s eye. Debbie was several years older and worked at a cafe when I was in high school. She gave me insight into the New Mexican way of life, albeit quite different, although only 35 miles away. I think Robert was from Canada, and I taught him how to catch a football and to play tennis. Bob and Steve experienced culture shock after moving to Vega from Wisconsin. Pretty sure I met them on their first day in town. The Miller sisters had all kinds of “big city” experiences and music to share when they arrived from Oklahoma City. Tonya told me that the band Kansas played at her brother’s high school prom back in the Sunflower State … There was a family named Meyers who moved to town for about two weeks, their dad having been a stunt man in California passing through on old Route 66 …

 

I have many wonderful memories of all of these old friends – each one a “Johnny come lately” for a bit. Each was so interesting in their own way … but no one in my mind, was more interesting than my friend Cork.

 

As the story goes, Cork — in his early teens — had run into some trouble in his home town and therefore moved to Vega to live with an older brother. Vega or time … an easy decision, or was it?:) Cork moved from one of the toughest, most blue-collar areas in Michigan (Flint/Flushing) to Vega … population 838 back then, (… think we are up around 930 now …) Flint, you may know is at more like 100K population, and is the birthplace of General Motors, and pretty much ground zero for the United Auto Workers union.

 

For an eighth grader, Cork was already street wise and small-town me, well, I was ready to take notes. Surprisingly, after a few years he was transformed into somewhat of a cowhand, but there were a few rough times in the transition … Cork’s transformation – was much to the amusement of all of my buddies and me. I’ll get back to that in a moment …

 

As background, my friends and I were farm kids raised in a very strict school system, each one of us answering to even more strict parents … and perhaps even more important than that, we all had ingrained in us a high standard of character, morals and pride in our school … like many a small town, this moral fiber was intertwined with the importance of sports and education. We were taught and believed wholeheartedly in this way of life. And other than sowing wild oats on weekends, we were pretty well behaved … at least in school activities.

 

Enter Cork from another world. He had to, first of all, have his long hair cut off to even attend our school. He quickly learned that he also had to pull up his jeans a little to fit in. He complied somewhat … But, you know, you can take the boy out of Detroit, but you can’t take Detroit out of the boy.

 

I am guessing all of my friends can remember Cork getting in trouble from time to time .. but especially one day in an 8th grade boys science class. By most people’s standards, it was a silly thing. The rule at our school was no candy in class. We were all pretty much rule followers. So, as silly as it sounds, we were all a little taken aback when the teacher called out Cork and asked him just what he thought he was doing eating candy in her class.

 

“What is that Mr. Shaw?” she demanded in a bit of a huff.

 

“Mulk Duths!” he replied in a garbled, mumbling, smacking response deep from a mouth filled with chocolate.

 

In our straight-laced, obedient world, we found this just funny as hell.

 

But it was what happened next that pretty much blew our little farm boy minds.

 

“Mr. Shaw, spit that out, and meet me in the principal’s office … WHAT was that?”

 

To our horror … remember we were already having a little trouble digesting that someone would break the no-candy rule … to our goody-goody horror, our jaws all “hit the ground” when this purportedly troubled teenager muttered a very harsh message to the teacher.

 

“Whore!”

 

We were in total shock, as was the new teacher, I am sure. What a weird mixture of wanting to bust up laughing and fearing any and all wrath toward the perpetrator and the witnesses as well. How funny/awkward.

 

That is one of the earliest and most vivid memories of Cork. As he conformed (a little) and transformed and began to fit in he was taken under the wing of a local cowboy/trucker and his family and soon Cork was sporting cowboy boots with riding heels, a cowboy hat and a Levi jacket. It was pretty amazing to see the change. After such a rocky start, Cork was eventually named a class favorite by his peers. As freshman he and I teamed up as driving partners with Coach Miller in Driver’s Ed. We had us some quality time on the roads of Oldham County, out towards Boot Hill Cemetery and Old Tascosa … West to the New Mexico line … South to the agricultural center that is Hereford … East to The Cadillac Ranch and on to Amarillo …

 

It seemed after a while Cork fit in better than I did. He eventually drove a water truck as his job — delivering water to all the local farms and ranches and soon he knew all the backroads and ranches and the cowboys and characters who lived this rugged lifestyle.

 

But before Cork became a cowboy, you can bet I was quizzing him for information about the big city … especially the music scene. Let’s see, all of this was about 1974 … when shock rocker Alice Cooper was doing teenage rebellion anthems like the teen angst gold “School’s Out” … and Alice — a bit of a rebellious hero of mine — like Cork, for all practical purposes hailed from “Detroit City” to which Alice alludes in “Be My Lover.” I remember that Cork and I had common ground in our taste for Alice.

 

“ … Told her that I came from Detroit City and played guitar in a long-haired rock ’n’ roll band …”

 

This of course, was before Alice and his “Welcome To My Nightmare” phase and his downward spiral into horror, and bondage and all that crap … I digress.

 

So any who … all these years later, I find myself traveling and exploring in and around “Detroit City.” Day after day I have heard the local Classic Rock station use that “Detroit City” line from Alice Cooper to promote their station. It’s a natural, and it makes me think of all those good times, way back when.

 

But it wasn’t until I drove from Warren, Mich., through Flint and on to “P the UP” … to Ping the Upper Peninsula, that I remembered a crazy Texas immigrant named Cork.

 

Cork, if you’re out there buddy … Thanks for some wild memories …

 

 

So … I had one day from the Dirty Gig here in Michigan, and I headed North … past Flint, past Flushing, past Saginaw (Have I told you that I once had a huge turtle named Saginaw … because thats where we found him in the middle of the highway … Saginaw, Texas?) … and on up to Traverse City, a nice little city on the bay, across Lake Michigan to the northeast of Green Bay, Wis. The timing was somewhere between premature and perfect … because there was a noticeable change in the leaves there further north I traveled.

 

Everywhere were signs that sounded like a “Who’s Who” of the storied U.S. auto industry … Cadillac, Mich., Pontiac, Mich., and yes I see that GM also makes a Traverse now …

 

During the journey, at first the surroundings were somewhat nondescript. Sure there were lots of trees and gently rolling hills … but not much diversity in the terrain. It got better. And to my surprise, I really enjoyed the view when I hit more and more farm land. Ha … I never think of Michigan for farmland, but I saw many an acre planted in near-ripe corn, and I saw lots of sugar beet fields as well.

 

About the time I hit Traverse City, the color change in the leaves pretty much just exploded in all kinds of reds and golds and greens. So nice.

 

Apologies and pity … that I had only a few hours. In Traverse City, I started the visit in a quirky way, hitting a large impressive Goodwill store — on the lookout for bizarre local t-shirts … a fun game I started back in California a few years ago. Hmmm … I considered a United Auto Workers t-shirt … but thought some would not realize it would be total tongue-in-cheek, since I am not exactly pro-labor unions. I drove on.

 

Wow. Traverse City has a quite happening little touristy downtown area, and to my surprise, I whipped into a parking spot quick and easy on a Sunday afternoon. I hoofed it up and down both sides of the retail district, hitting bookstores, tea shops, t-shirt shops, ice cream shops. The Wi-Fi? … I found several hotspots among the usual suspects. I mean, Wi-Fi is everywhere after all …

A shame that the weather was somewhat cool, a little breezy and bordering on overcast at times … in this sweet lake/shoreline/beach resort community.

So, I will just blog about this one place that is now “kinda special to me.” The Cherry Republic. Love the name. Love the fruit. Love the concept … LOVE LOVE all things cherry, and like the “Cold War-esque bear in their logo. I sampled at least one cherry version of just about every candy, snack and pickled concoction on the planet … In my extensive research, I learned that the white chocolate covered cherries last longer without melting in your hand, than the chocolate covered cherries … not that either spent much time in my hand.

 

 

I “shotgunned” a nice cherry cola from Cherry Republic … and I checked in on Facebook using the free and easy Wi-Fi hotspot … nice people, these cherry fanatics — 6 bings … er … 6 pings.

 

The other place of most interest was the local ice cream parlor. I felt no guilt whatsoever when I skipped the vegan and ignored the gluten free … and went straight to the good stuff. My calorie overload of choice – a waffle cone anchored with dark chocolate amaretto ice cream and then a generous scoop of honey lavender on top. Yum …

 

After a break-neck tour of Traverse City … I headed over to the stomping grounds of another old acquaintance — Charlevoix, Mich. At the opposite end of the acquaintance spectrum, I have a former client who did well in retail and cashed in his chips so to speak, and acquired a nice property in Charlevoix. I had never been to the lakeside, resort community before, and had always been curious. So … don’t know when I will ever pass this way again, so I had to see Chuck’s little playground on or around the tiny passageway that connects Lake Michigan with Lake Charlevoix. Timing is everything. I got to town just in time to watch the street bridge over the waterway rise up to let boats pass by underneath … one of the hotter attractions in town I am sure, on the hour and half-hour. I did a quick walk out to the lighthouse, just west of the bridge. No Wi-Fi … then I stopped by a barbecue place called SOW — Smoke On the Water. Ha … love the name and all of its ’70s rock implied goodness. I picked up a Charlevoix t-shirt with a moose (I love any t-shirt with an antlered beast) to add to my new Detroit Triumph motorcycle shirt and my Motown Records shirt …

 

But sadly … after so much driving and so much reminiscing, it was time to turn around on this one-afternoon excursion and head south on The Dixie Highway back to the Detroit suburbs. First, the iPhone GPS app. took me through some really nice backroads. Is there a scenic backroad setting on the phone??? I had to accept not-enough chilling and not-enough Wi-Fi exploration for my taste … but sometimes you just have to take what you’re given here in Detroit City.

 

Know what I sayin?