Tractors at 4am

She leaned her head out of the trailer/office and said, "Jerry says he doesn't want anything from you." Jen and I looked at each other, puzzled.
"Pardon?"
She adjusted the large frames under a honey brown bowl haircut. "He said you girls don't have to pay."
"Are you sure?" We had to be polite about it after all, even though we were sure we looked pathetic: rumpled obviously slept in clothes, knit hats taming knotted hair, sleep swollen eyes squinting into the sunlight.
"Yup. Have a nice day." The screen door squeaked shut.
"Thanks, you too." We turned around and headed back for the car where our sleeping bags draped over the trunk, over the dusty back window, recovering from the heavy dew of the night.
Last night Jen and I drove down from the woods up north after talking and taping and photographing and talking and talking. We drove down to Bangor to be ready for an interview the next morning. We got to the area around nine p.m. looked for a place to camp that wasn't in someones backyard or down a dirt road or in a sketchy half lit parking lot or crowded RV "campground."
We ended up in a mostly empty RV "campground." Jerry told us over the phone to find the grassy spot behind the really big RV and check in with him in the morning.
We spread out a crinkly blue tarp on the bumpy dirt next to the grass, the grass being illuminated by several ill-placed-for-sleeping-outdoors lampposts. We laid out mats and sleeping bags, I pulled on a hat and stuffed a raggedy powder blue blanket into the sack, zipped off my boots and left on my wool socks, climbed in and pulled the bag opening shut. Jen and I talked until the talk faded out like it did when I was little and slept in my sisters room and we talked until the talk faded and measured breathing began. What did we talk about then?
The clouds scurried over the nearly full moon, stars straining beside their brighter brother.

The semi revved to life then idled as the tractor slipped down the back of the flatbed. The tractor swung its bucket around and it's spotlight circled to two girls in sleeping bags on a tarp.
It's 4am and I'm covered with dew. I peeked out of my bag, hoping the growling semi or the rumbling tractor would shut up or not run me over or maybe I don't care if they run me over because I'm so fricken tired. I stare into the bright light, into the cab of the semi, then pull my head back into my shell and try to go back to sleep. Let em growl and rumble.

Jerry, were you at the wheel?
Jerry, what were you doing with a tractor and a semi at 4am, even if it was the last day of your season and your swimming pool is dry and the pipes are drained and the RVers are a small cluster on the other side of the muddy yard?

I'm not sure if that was you Jerry, but thanks for the free night, even if we didn't appreciate the complimentary 4am wakeup call.