My wife and I drove down from Zion National Park to Sedona Arizona, making fun road side stops along our eventual 8 hour car ride. We were reminiscing about how effortless and spontaneous the trip was even though we had been planning it for months. Once we settled into our Airbnb and maxed out the jets on the jacuzzi tub, we decided to go and get a nicotine vape. But the store we had went to was out, and the only other place that we could get one, was in Cottonwood Arizona. So we decided, “what’s another 20 minutes in the car?” ….
We got our nicotine and proceeded to take in the local cuisine. We were fascinated by the deafening buzzes of the cicadas and settled for a pint before venturing out further to a spectacular pizza place.
While at the bar, we decided on a Caesar salad with anchovies. (She’s vegetarian and doesn’t eat fish.) as we playfully talked as I tried to get her to eat an anchovy, the kind waitress/bartender took our drinks. Through casual conversation and upon realizing we were tourists , she revealed that only a few towns over, was a haunted old town called Jerome. Fascinated by this local’s tale, we inquired about what she knew about the town. She told us that there was a hospital, that had 9,000 deaths. She shared that she applied for a job at the newly erected hospital and while she was touring the kitchen during operation…she could see her breath.
Somewhat doubtful, but enjoying the conversation about the supernatural, we decided to get our tab and head back to go to sleep because we were planning a few hikes. As I drove through the quaint and quiet yet somewhat illuminated downtown, I came across the entrance for the main highway, and we saw a kind looking older man, with a white cowboy hat, and a big white beard who stuck his thumb out as we entered the intersection and onto the freeway. As we passed him we joked to each other about picking him up. A strange feeling came over me and I thought, “fuck it babe. Let’s do it.”
We doubled back at the nearest u-turn to pick him up, wondering if he was still there. When we saw him, I rolled down the window to ask where he was headed and sure enough, he was headed to Sedona. I hopped out of the car to greet him and learned his name was Woody Jackson, although I was weary, I moved our camping gear and folded the seat of my Crosstrek up so That he could sit comfortably. I noticed that he was wearing a faded blue shirt, with a jacket over it. But what was most noticeable was the large turquoise ring he had on his left index finger. Picture an aged Dead Head.
As I put the car in first gear and headed toward the freeway, he began to speak with us…
I was halfway distracted by him, trying to merge onto a major highway when all of the sudden, a wild pig and her offspring were in my lane. I had to brake and downshift and right after that, Woody said “nice driving.”
My enthralled and curious wife began to ask about him. He shared that he was a musician, working on a ballad about an antique piece of mining equipment that was imported to Jerome Arizona in the early 1900’s before World War 1. As he proceeded to tell us his vision for his album, we interrupted and said that the bar tender was just talking to us about Jerome Arizona and said that we should visit. Although he kept repeating himself about Jerome, we were interested to hear more of his tale…but that’s where he left it. Just talking about his ballad for this piece of mining equipment in Jerome. He leaned in to the front of the car and proceeded to talk to us about his music and how he had nothing to his name other than a 2 million dollar house and his girlfriend. And how Sue Nelson (Willie Nelson’s Sister apparently,) wanted him to move east to play music with them.
As I watched the GPS take us minute by minute closer to Sedona, he offered to have us come over to hear him play guitar. We respectfully declined, but dropped him off in Sedona. In our short car ride, I didn’t have time to fully engage with him, But before being dropped off, he left us with something along these lines.
“The world is going to hell all around us. There is a species of aliens that’s waiting to come down to us. And he wants to travel intergalacticly.”
We dropped him off but before exited the car, he pulled out a satellite phone and told us to take his number down and take him to Jerome when we headed back to California. He thanked us kindly and said “Peace” as we drove away from the Main Street to our Airbnb.
And now, we are sitting here. Reflecting on what a wild 18 minute car ride it was. And how it was too much of a coincidence to not share here. Any experts on Jerome or northern Arizona folklore, please chime in. And I hope you meet a weary traveler as genuine as Woody Jackson.