Lost Highway to Fargo 1978

“Lost Highway to Fargo, 1978”

It was early dawn when I crept out of Minot in my Chevy. Bloated snow-laden clouds were gathering in the east, and I hoped to reach Fargo by noon. Minot, in North Dakota, on the rolling plains of the Drift Prairie, is sandwiched between the Badlands to the west and the Red River Valley to the east.

As I cruised down Highway 52, I didn’t see another soul. The bleak landscape around me was filled with vast farmland dedicated to growing wheat. I skirted the Souris River, and by the time I reached the town of Harvey, it had started to snow. I couldn’t afford to waste any time getting to Fargo. I hadn’t eaten breakfast yet, and my stomach grumbled in protest. The hotel restaurant had been closed, and dinner the night before had been lackluster, unless you could call a dried-out donut dinner. The gnawing in my stomach had become too persistent to ignore. Surely there would be time for a quick stop to refuel both the car and me.

While I was at the gas station, I spotted Lucky’s Diner across the street. It seemed my fairy godmother was out and about early this morning. But when I opened the door, a gruff male voice shouted from the back of the restaurant. “We aren’t open yet, dammit.”

Yikes, someone’s grumpy. Should I leave? But if I don’t ask, I won’t get anything to eat.

“Sir, if you could make me a sandwich, I’ll pay triple the price. I’m incredibly hungry.”

A balding man of about fifty peered around the corner to see who had made such a promise. “And why would you do that?” he asked.

“I’m traveling, and I didn’t have dinner last night, and I haven’t eaten anything this morning.”

“What’s a young girl like you doing out here in the boonies by yourself? Where are you headed?”

“ I’m on a business trip heading to Fargo,” I replied, trying to give my best pitiful look.

Sighing, he looked me up and down while wiping his large hands on his grubby apron and glared. “And what do you want for breakfast?”

“An egg sandwich would be perfect. That’s it,” I quickly blurted out, hoping he was serious.

“You want bacon on that?”

“Oh, that would be great! Do you have coffee?”

“Thought you weren’t going to ask me for anything else? There’s always one more thing, isn’t there?”

I remained silent because he had suggested adding bacon to my sandwich. I took a seat at the counter as he thumped a coffee mug down in front of me and poured me some brew. He left a bunch of creamers beside the cup, then stomped back to the kitchen.

While I sipped my coffee, I listened to him whistle a surprisingly happy tune. The sound and aroma of bacon sizzling on the grill filled the air, making my stomach grumble even more insistently. Soon, he returned with the sandwich and refilled my cup.

“Is that good?” he asked, with a hint of a growl in his voice.

“Ketchup? Do you have any?”

He threw his hands up in mock disgust and went back to the kitchen, but when he returned, he was laughing. “I can’t believe you conned me into making you breakfast when I didn’t even want to. You must be a good businesswoman, but you’d better eat up and get on the road. It’s getting ugly out there. You got snow tires?”

“Yes, I have a new Chevy that’s fully equipped for winter driving. But I’ll get going,” I quickly shoved the last bit of the sandwich into my mouth and then tucked the promised amount of cash under the edge of my plate.

“Ahh, a woman true to her word,” he barked as he pushed the money back toward me. “But breakfast is on me! Now get outta here!”

“Thank you, sir, for your kindness. You saved my day.”

“Yeah, sure. Go on now and leave me in peace!”

Outside, a raw wind nipped at my face as I hurried to the car. Within minutes of leaving Harvey, I knew it would be a rough ride to Fargo. The radio crackled and sputtered, struggling to maintain a signal, so I shoved a tape into my 8-track player. Willie Nelson’s voice filled the car as he sang “On the Road Again.”

Powdery snow swept across the flat, open terrain, obscuring the road ahead. I turned on my headlights so other vehicles could spot me. Snowdrifts were piling up across the road, but I navigated through them without issue. Suddenly, a pair of headlights emerged from the swirling snow, and I nearly collided with a pickup truck. We both stopped. My heart was hammering in my chest. Was his as well? The driver patiently waited for me to maneuver around him. I waved and pressed on.

After creeping along for over an hour, I realized I should have passed through another town by now, but I hadn’t seen one. Why had I missed it? The cramping in my hands urged me to ease my grip on the steering wheel, but the relentless combination of ferocious wind gusts and blinding snow made me hold on tighter. I should get off the road. But where could I go? My visibility was limited to just the hood of my car. When I reached a crossroads, there were no signs indicating nearby towns, only a stop sign splattered with snow. And now, I had to pee.

I stopped right where I was, got out of the car, and trudged through a knee-high drift to the passenger side. My feet got stuck, and I toppled over sideways. Once I righted myself, I removed my coat and laid it on the car's hood. Hiking up my skirt was difficult, but getting my tights down was nearly impossible. Why were women expected to wear skirts out here in the middle of nowhere? After a lengthy struggle, I finally wrestled myself into position. And here I was, out in the hinterland with my bare backside freezing in the snow, wondering where my fairy godmother might be now.

Next came the exhausting effort of putting myself back together. Snow continued to fall, and the wind howled around me. Anxiously, I worried that I might get buried out here. Finally, I managed to drag my soaking wet self into the car. I grabbed a towel from my emergency kit in the back seat to wipe my face and legs.

Despite the heater blasting at full power, my teeth chattered uncontrollably, and I couldn’t get warm. Cautiously, I started driving again, but desperation had set in as I realized I was lost. I switched off the tape player. “Sorry, Willie, I need to concentrate.” The absence of other vehicles didn’t really surprise me. Sane people were safely cocooned at home.

Where was I on the road? Was I driving on the left or the right side? Somehow, I must have strayed off Highway 52, otherwise, I should have passed through some towns. I was certain of that now.

As time passed, visibility worsened, and gusts of wind rocked the car, making it difficult to steer. A surge of hysteria bubbled up in my throat. Was I going to die out here? I kept moving, but I could feel a big cry coming on.

It was another hour before I saw the ghostly image of a grain elevator looming in the distance. Through the snowy fog, I also noticed a building with a sign that read “Ray’s General Store.” I stopped the car, unsure if I was still on the road or in a parking area. I couldn’t tell. Staggering through at least three feet of snow, I fell before I managed to reach the building. When I finally got to the door, I yanked it open. Inside, I found a sinewy, older man sitting beside a wood stove, his German shepherd lying beside him.

“I’m very lost,” I confessed, my voice shaking. As I removed my hat, I noticed it was completely soaked, and the pheasant feather was hopelessly matted. My favorite hat was ruined. My double-breasted black coat was also drenched and speckled with snow clumps from my tumble outside the store.

The man sat back in his chair and studied me. “You’re also foolish. What are you doing out here dressed like a city girl?”

His blunt but honest remark felt hurtful, although I knew I was a disheveled mess. I decided to try again.

“Hi, I’m Ellen. Are you Ray?”

“Yup, and this is my sidekick, Rocky,” he said, nodding toward his dog. Rocky’s dark, watchful eyes never left me, though he remained perfectly still. “Where are you comin from?”

“I’m traveling from Minot to Fargo for my work, but the roads are treacherous. Can you tell me where the nearest hotel might be?”

Ray chuckled, but I noticed a flicker of sympathy in his eyes. “No hotels around here for miles.”

Ray rose from his chair and walked over to a CB radio behind the counter. He fiddled with the knobs until he finally connected with a state trooper. Through the crackling static, I heard that much of Interstate 94 was impassable and that all county roads were closed.

A wave of dread washed over me, paralyzing me with the horrifying truth. Most likely, I would be spending a long, wintry night huddling in my car. “Oh no, this can’t be happening,” I whispered.

As I settled into a ladder-back chair that Ray had offered, Rocky attempted to climb onto my lap. I laughed at the thought of a dog his size believing he could ever be a lap dog. Yet Rocky seemed determined to be my friend, and I definitely needed one. I surrendered to his request and moved down to the dusty floor, disregarding the fate of my coat, and invited Rocky to sprawl across my lap. I sank my hands into his thick, wiry fur, finding comfort in his presence.

After two hours, the weather worsened. Ray went to the phone and called his wife, Nora, to explain the plight of the unfortunate girl who had been lost in the storm. “Can I bring her home?” he asked. Nora agreed, which filled me with both relief and fear. Should I really put myself in the hands of strangers? But something told me it would be okay. We were about to take a chance on each other.

We piled into my Chevy and drove just one block to Ray’s home. It was a small, faded-green clapboard bungalow with a ramshackle garage beside it. A propane gas tank, nearly buried in the snow, was tucked alongside. Vacant birdhouses swayed gingerly on thin posts attached to a fence in the yard. Snowdrifts, nearly hip-high, made it difficult to reach the house, and both Ray and I fell a few times as we navigated our way to the door. However, Rocky seemed to enjoy the challenge, effortlessly romping through the snow ahead of us.

When we reached the porch, Ray pushed open the door, letting us into the kitchen. My nose twitched as I caught the aroma of home-cooked food, and in that moment, I knew this miserable day was about to improve.

In the kitchen, Nora was waiting to greet us. She was a tiny yet sturdy woman with wispy silver hair that framed her sweet, wrinkled face and bright blue eyes. Wearing a heavy green sweater and gray sweatpants splattered with flour, she seemed completely unconcerned about her appearance.

“Come in! You must be exhausted! What a frightful day for you,” she said, fussing over me. She took my coat and seated me at a large oak table. “Here are some sugar cookies to tide you over until dinner. How about a cup of hot tea to warm you up?”

Had I just stumbled into heaven? I was finally safe and out of the storm. I wanted to weep with relief. Instead, I gave her a grateful smile.

Satisfied I was safe with Nora, Roy headed into the living room to watch television, while Rocky lingered in the kitchen, hoping for treats.

For dinner, Nora served a savory shepherd’s pie, followed by a delicious apple cobbler for dessert. We spent the evening getting to know each other until Nora sent me off to bed.

That night, I slept on a squeaky cot in a closet-like room bursting with a chaotic mix of colorful knitting yarn, sewing patterns, and whimsical Christmas decorations. Rocky refused to leave my side and curled up on the narrow cot with me. Although he took up most of our little bed, I didn’t mind. I was alive and safe.

In the morning, Nora treated me to a hearty breakfast of fluffy scrambled eggs, perfectly crisped bacon, and buttery toast. She had packed a bag with sandwiches and snacks and even cleaned my coat. Miraculously, she had somehow made my fedora look brand new again, and I felt the need to hug her for that.

While snuggling with Rocky, I thanked Ray and Nora for rescuing me. “I might have died out there if it weren’t for you.”

Ray then explained his decision to help me. “If Rocky hadn’t taken such a liking to you, I would have had to come up with another plan. But since he felt obliged to stick by you, I figured he wanted me to help you. It turned out to be the right decision. By the way, you should know that a fellow from Lucky’s Diner in Harvey called the state troopers about you this morning. He said you had stopped there for breakfast before heading off to Fargo. He is kicking himself for letting you go out into the storm alone and has been worried sick about you.”

I was shocked to hear this, especially since the guy had been irritated when I first set foot in the diner and seemed so eager to get rid of me. “Did he say what his name was, Ray?”

“Yeah, his name is Eddy Miller. The troopers called this morning to see if I knew where you were, since I had called yesterday to check the road conditions for you. I assured them that we had you and you were safe.”

Tears filled my eyes as I realized that Eddy had been worried about the foolish city girl running around in a blizzard, throwing caution to the wind. I shuddered at the thought of how drastically different the outcome could have been. I promised myself I would call Eddy at the diner to thank him for checking on me.

“So, if you’re ready to go, Ellen, I’ll lead you to the road that’ll take you to Interstate 94. After that, you should be all set. It’s bitterly cold today, but the skies are clear.”

Before I got into my car, Nora stuck a piece of paper into my hand. “Here’s our phone number. Call us when you get home, dear, so we know you’re safe. We’ll be worried about you. You really shouldn’t be out here alone like this.”

“I understand how reckless I was, Nora. I didn’t think the weather would get so dangerous. All I can say is my fairy godmother has been working overtime for me. I can’t imagine what would have happened if she hadn’t brought me to you, Ray, and Rocky.”

Nora pulled me in for a warm hug. “You’re a good woman, Ellen. Take care of yourself.”

Rocky excitedly climbed into the pick-up truck, his tail wagging like a propeller, thrilled to be going for a ride with Ray. As they drove off, I followed closely behind them. After about thirty minutes, Ray pulled over to the side of the road, leaving the engine running to keep the truck warm. He climbed out of the truck, and Rocky eagerly bounded out after him, following Ray over to my car.

“Take a right here onto 281, and it will lead you to the freeway. If you need gas, there’s a station in Jamestown about 130 miles away. After that, you’ll be about 90 miles from Fargo. Got it?”

“Yes, I’m good. Thanks again for taking a chance on me, Ray. I’ll never forget you, Nora, or Rocky.”

Hearing his name, Rocky jumped up and put his front paws on my open window. He licked my face and whined. When Ray pulled him away from the car, I rolled up the window and drove off. Soon, they were out of sight, and I felt a pang of regret about having to leave. When I got home, I would call them and then send a huge gift basket to thank them again for their kindness.

The bright sun shone down from a clear, cloudless sky, promising a better day ahead. I knew I was incredibly lucky. Pressing down on the gas pedal, I inserted a tape into my 8-track player and cruised toward Fargo as Willie crooned “Blue Skies.”