Refugee

 We never really know when we’ll meet our closest friend. Many people drift in and out of our lives, but only a rare few become the ones we can trust completely—the ones who understand us without needing an explanation.

Back in 1974, I was working days in an institutional food factory and attending college at night. One morning, I showed up to find a new guy had joined the crew on the loading dock—the place where tons of sugar, flour, and other staples came in to be turned into food for schools, hospitals, and prisons.

He was tall and lean, with a long shock of hair and a spark in his eye that told me he didn’t quite fit the mold. We hit it off almost immediately. Before long, we were inseparable during breaks. His sense of humor matched mine perfectly, and within a week, we’d developed our own nicknames for the rest of the crew—our little inside jokes that only we understood.

Did I know then that this man would change my life? Not a chance.

But through him, and later through his wife, I would meet the woman who became my wife. Without that friendship, I can honestly say my life might have taken a very different turn.

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The Ties That Endure

Over the years, our paths intertwined in ways I could never have predicted. We started out together in that factory and later found ourselves working side by side in several automotive dealerships. No matter where life took us, we always had each other’s backs.

Through every high and every low, we discovered a simple truth: while others might falter, we never failed one another.

We both endured the long hours and the family sacrifices that came with our chosen careers. There were days we barely saw home. Yet even when life grew heavy, the bond between us stayed solid.

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The Road as Therapy

One Sunday—our only shared day off—I got a call. There was a situation brewing at home, and before I could finish my coffee, he was already on his way to pick me up.

Long drives had always been our therapy. It didn’t matter whose crisis it was—his, mine, or both. Whenever life pressed too hard, we’d just get in the car and go. The miles, the music, the silence, the laughter—it all worked its quiet magic.

“Somewhere, somehow, somebody must have kicked you around some.”
Tom Petty had it right.

We’ve all had those moments when life kicks us around—when we feel crushed by work, responsibility, or just bad luck. Maybe it’s the boss at the office. Maybe it’s the boss at home. Either way, sometimes the only cure is the open road, good music, and a best friend riding shotgun.

That night, the only cassette we had was Damn the Torpedoes by Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers. We played it on repeat as the miles disappeared beneath the headlights.

We didn’t fix anything that night. We didn’t have to. But by the time we rolled back home, we knew every word to every song—and somehow, that was enough.

Even now, whenever a track from that album comes on, it all comes rushing back. The hum of the engine. The glow of the dashboard lights. The laughter. The peace. I always feel the urge to pick up the phone and say, “Hey, remember that night?”

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The Back Stretch

These days, we’re both in the last stretch of life’s long road. Two old road dogs who’ve logged a lot of miles together.

Now our conversations drift to our kids, our grandkids, and the aches that remind us we’re not twenty anymore. Getting old isn’t easy—but it beats the alternative.

We still talk about the world and the trips we’ll take someday—windows down, music up, chasing one more horizon.

He’s in Chicago now, and I’m out here in Montana, but whenever we do get the chance to meet up, it’s like slipping behind the wheel of a familiar car. The conversation flows like it always has—effortless, honest, timeless.

We both know those moments are fewer now, so we hold onto them tightly.

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The Road Between Us

The memories of those long drives have aged like a favorite old sweater—soft, worn, and still carrying the scent of gasoline, laughter, and freedom.

Time keeps rolling on, but one thing’s never changed:
Whenever I need him, he’s there.
And he knows the same goes for me.

No matter how many miles stretch between us, the road that connects us will never wear down.