A couple of local occurrences in recent months have demonstrated a difference in how people perceive race relations in rural America. Both involved truck drivers landing their big rigs in precarious situations in Colorado mountain towns.
The first incident occurred just outside of Marble last summer and was reported in this newspaper and elsewhere. The young driver, from Las Vegas, pointed his rig up the road to Crystal, known as the Lead King Loop. His load included clothes bound for TJ Maxx in Denver.
Coming into Marble on County Road 3, the driver had grown suspicious and circled back to Paonia where there was cell phone service. There, he told his supervisor something wasn’t right, but the supervisor, in a southern state, told him to stay the course. Did I mention it was dark and raining?
The driver returned to County Road 3 and continued through Marble, creeped past Beaver
Lake, then slowly started up Floyd Hill. That rocky stretch is basically a one-lane road. The driver didn’t make it far. He tried to turn around, but got his rig stuck — completely blocking the road.
The unfortunate driver spent the night in his cab, then set out in the morning for Marble to get
some help. Marble residents later told me he was afraid of bears on the hike to town. He came across the Marble Hub, which has Wifi access, and was able to call home to his family.
What happened next is what radio legend Paul Harvey would call “the rest of the story.” You see, the driver was a Black man who apparently was not only afraid of bears, but concerned about being stranded in a mostly, if not all, white occupied small town.
In short order, several Marble folks showed their true colors. Those who came into contact, befriended the worried man. Some folks drove him around town while others talked to him at the Hub and elsewhere. One good Samaritan told him he could have just knocked on someone’s door and asked to use their phone. The driver allegedly replied something to the effect of, Do you see who I am?
The driver’s ordeal lasted three days and two nights, until a crane and two wreckers finally freed his rig. He stayed at Beaver Lake Lodge, getting to know the staff and using the phone to keep in touch with his family.
Here’s the yet to be reported punchline to the story. Upon leaving town, he told folks he’d like to return to Marble with his family. A happy ending all the way around. Here comes happy ending number two …
Glenwood shows its colors
The second big-rig driver was a young Black woman. While navigating downtown Glenwood Springs, the driver attempted to turn her north-bound rig off of Bennett Avenue and onto Seventh Street to head west. A light pole got in the way about half way into the turn. She climbed down from her rig and walked to the back of the trailer to assess the situation, looking worried.
She climbed back to her seat behind the steering wheel and it looked like she might be on her phone. I was parked nearby on Seventh Street. I walked to her rig and looked up as she rolled down her window.
“You are in Glenwood Springs!” I yelled up. “The cops here are pretty good. They might be able to help you.” Apparently, calling the cops wasn’t a preferred option.
Seconds later though, a tall guy with an off-leash white dog walked up. He shouted up, “You’re in a pickle,” then headed to the back of the trailer and started giving her directions by hand, as she slowly backed up to get a better angle on the turn.
I stationed myself in front of her to signal from the front end. Sooner than you’d think, she made the turn, then headed west on Seventh toward Midland. The tall guy with the white dog and I escorted her all the way to the train station, where she stopped and rolled down her window. He gave her directions to Midland. She was all smiles as she drove off; no doubt relieved.
I brought up the rear on the way to the train station. As the driver eased west along Seventh, the tall guy yelled “Thanks!” to me and waved as he continued his walk downtown.
So, there you go. Due to the world we live in, people may not feel welcomed and get worried when they find themselves in unfamiliar, predominantly white mountain towns. It’s up to us, and little acts of kindness, to make people think again.
