The Day I Discovered Racism (1965)
The Day I Discovered Racism (1965)
By William Ehrhart
We were driving an English Vauxhall
we’d bought in Santa Rosa, New Mexico,
for $67 and the trade-in for our ancient
Chevy that had blown an engine
the night before and now sat useless
along the Interstate west of town.
The Vauxhall didn’t have a speedometer
or any other gauges, only empty holes
in the dashboard where gauges
should have been, no gas pedal, just
a metal pin through the floor, no
gas cap, no oil cap, no windshield
wipers, and no headlights until we
found the switchbox beneath the back
seat and hooked it up with masking tape;
the heat kept melting the tape, so we
had to retape it every hour or so.
But we’d gotten as far as Louisiana,
early morning, a two-lane road through
cane fields and cypress trees and bayous
when we got a flat. And of course, no
spare tire. So we’re sitting there
by the side of the road scratching
our heads and wondering what to do
next when a car pulls up and two
Black men get out and ask us if
we need any help. And we’re starting
to explain when a pick-up truck
comes to a screeching halt and two
white men get out and start pushing
and threatening the two Black men
and chasing them off with a warning
to leave the white boys alone.
Then, as nice as can be, they offer
to drive us to the nearest town
to get our tire fixed, and they treat us
to breakfast while we wait for the tire,
then drive us back to our car and put
the tire back on before wishing the four
of us a safe trip home to Pennsylvania.
W. D. Ehrhart's most recent poetry collections are Thank You for Your Service: Collected Poems (McFarland, 2019) and Wolves in Winter (Between Shadows Press, 2021). He is a retired high school teacher and a veteran of both the US Marine Corps and Vietnam Veterans Against the War.