A song by Dave Martin

MONTREAL TO MICHIGAN

Montreal to Michigan, at twenty-one below;
Heading up the highway, in the blinding snow.
Mascouche Quebec and Gros Pointe Woods, Toronto in between,
Take me to the sweetest girl that I’ve ever seen.

Lord, I must be half insane, to do the things I do.
Pouring rain and ninety-five, and sleeping in the dew.
Standing on the highway, feel I’m gonna die.
Cutting wind and blinding snwo, it’s straining on my mind.

The Woodstock bridge, Tibetan chant, rings like a cannon’s fire.
The rails just like the Pearly Gates, and humming like a choir.
Western Star goes flying by. Missed me by an inch;
Tore me from my standing place. God’s watching me for sure.

Toronto’s passing like a dream. I missed her warming lights.
Half way to the tunnel bus, I’m looking for a ride.
Branded by the transports with their wall of wind,
Lord my soul is burning now. I wonder how I sinned.

Mary, don’t you hear my prayer, a quarter-thousand miles?
The wind just stealing breath away, there’s visions in my eyes.
The Holy Land is drawing near. The Jordan’s at Detroit.
I’m shaking in your seizure, your name is on my voice.

COPYRIGHT 1970 DAVE MARTIN

Hitch hiking from the sleepy hamlet of Mascouche Quebec, in the mountains north of Montreal, to Gros Pointe Woods, Detroit, Michigan, just at the time of the riots in Detroit, the FLQ crisis, the Vietnam war, Woodstock, and a whole lot of other crazy events at the cusp of the sixties and the seventies was an interesting thing.

The lights near the Woodstock bridge made my hands seem purple. It made me wonder about my health at the moment. To be visible to drivers, in the blizard, I had to stand very close to the traveled portion of the road, and my footwear wasn't dry. At times, on that long ribbon of pavement, my breath was taken away by the cold. My head was dizzy, and it echoed the words of James Taylor, in " Fire and Rain " : " Lord knows, when the cold wind blows, it'll turn your head around. "

But nothing can turn your head around like the bit of love in your heart, and on this trip, I didn't even stop in Toronto. It's a long drive by car, and as you might imagin, hitch-hiking just took a whole lot longer.

I met a lot of interesting folks, and went to the end of many a secluded road, while hitch-hiking. But no memory stays with me as much as my visits in Gros Pointe Woods. The journey, in this case, was not the destination. Gord Lightfoot wrote " I would tear the threads away, just to bleed again. "