Okay, Maybe, If You Say So

Houghton Lake, Michigan

Back in the fall of 1986, my boss, Ivan Allred, the VP of Operations at Beard Oil Company, decided it was time for me to become an explorer. "Hey, want to go drill an oil well in Michigan?" he asked. Now, my knowledge of Michigan was limited to Detroit, and I wasn't exactly eager to dive into a state I imagined was all Motor City madness.

"No," I replied.

"Why not?" Ivan asked.

"It's not my territory," I said, hoping that would end the discussion.

"Oh, but it is! You're the District Drilling Superintendent of the Western Division, right?"

"Right..."

"Well, Michigan's a Western state," Ivan declared confidently.

"Wait, what? I'm pretty sure Michigan's east of the Mississippi!"

"True, but it's in the Midwest, and 'west' is right there in the name. So, it's your territory," Ivan explained with the logic of a well-oiled politician. "Now, are you going to drill that well in Michigan?"

"Do I have a choice?" I asked, still picturing Michigan as a giant Detroit.

"Not really," Ivan said.

"Alright then, I guess Michigan's in my territory if you say so."

My first adventure was meeting with the Michigan Department of Environmental Quality. They were the gatekeepers of oil and gas operations, and since our well was near Houghton Lake, a resort area, they were going to be watching like hawks. I flew into Detroit, rented a car, and headed to Mount Pleasant, home to Michigan's largest Holiday Inn, complete with a golf course that moonlighted as a cross-country ski resort in winter.

To my surprise, Michigan wasn't one big urban jungle. Driving from the motel to the well site, I discovered lush forests and highways that looked like they had been groomed by the world's most dedicated gardeners.

Once on site, I teamed up with a surveyor and a DEQ inspector to find the perfect drilling spot. We staked out the location, and I discussed my plans for drilling, completion, and cleanup in case the well turned out to be a dud. This was a wildcat well with several zones to test. Then, I flew back to Denver, dreaming of the mountains of Colorado.

After getting all the paperwork and contracts in place, I returned to Mount Pleasant. I hired local companies to build the site and set conductor pipe. Once that was done, I had the drilling contractor rig up and drilled the well, setting casing without a hitch. We tested six zones over six months, but alas, none were producers. I capped the well to the DEQ's satisfaction and started reclaiming the site, which included planting trees to replace the ones we had bulldozed. After the reclamation was complete, the DEQ inspector gave me a thumbs-up, and I headed home.

While in Michigan, I even caught a basketball game at Central Michigan University. I had to see what all the buzz was about. CMU's star, Dan Majerle, was a towering 6'6" shooting guard who could sink threes and dunk with ease. He ended up being drafted by the Phoenix Suns and became a three-point legend.

On weekends, I played tourist, exploring the sights or just relaxing. Once the job wrapped up, I drove home. I drove it straight through from Mount Pleasant to Evergreen. A 1,275 mile trip in the days of 55 mph speed limits. Fortunately, I drove a full sized K5 diesel Blazer that got a little over 600 highway miles on a tank. I made the twenty-two hour drive with just two stops about ten hours apart. Both to fuel up, hit the restroom, and grab a bite to eat. I was only thirty-one years old then. Now, almost seventy, I don't think I can make that same drive again with ten hours between stops. Hell, I know I can't unless I have a large mouth bottle I can pee in.

Six months later, I flew back to Michigan for the final inspection. The DEQ gave my reclamation efforts a gold star and told me I was welcome back anytime. With the inspection done ahead of schedule, I decided to explore the Upper Peninsula. Crossing the Mackinac Bridge into the UP was breathtaking. The Upper Peninsula was equally breathtaking with forests, waterfalls, and lakes galore. I even made a spontaneous trip to Sault Ste. Marie, Canada, back when a driver's license was all you needed to cross the border.

In Canada, I marveled at bilingual product labels and enjoyed a cheeseburger and fries, French food has too much garlic for my taste, while eavesdropping on two elderly ladies speaking French. People-watching is my secret weapon for crafting believable characters in my books.

I was also struck by the difference in the two port of entries on that trip to and from Canada.

When I was entering Canada, a woman about my age (at the time I was thirty-one) came up to my window. I rolled it down.

"May I see your Driver's License or passport?" She asked with a welcoming smile.

I showed her my Driver's License. She read it and handed it back to me.

"Ronnie, may I ask you why you are visiting Canada?"

"I flew in to Michigan to do some work. After I finished, I had a few extra days before flying back to Colorado, so I thought I would visit the Upper Peninsula. Then, I thought I would visit Canada since I was this close," I said.

"How long will you be staying?"

"Just overnight. I need to get back to Detroit for my flight day after tomorrow."

"Have you ever been to Canada?"

"No ma'am."

"Welcome to Canada. Enjoy your stay," she said, still smiling. It was a genuine smile that could be seen in her eyes.

"Thank you."

She was polite and inviting. Quite a contrast to what the American port of entry was like when I left Canada the next day.

"Driver's License or passport," the old man told me after I pulled to a stop. His scowl looked like he had had a lifetime of perfecting it.

I gave him my Driver's License. He looked at it as he walked around my car.

"Where are you from?" He asked after he returned to my window.

"Evergreen, Colorado. The address on the Driver's License is correct," I said.

He looked the license over again as he walked to the back of he car. He looked at my license then he looked at the license plate on my rental car. He came back to my window.

"Why does your car have a Michigan license plate when you say you live in Colorado?" He asked. He didn't look too happy about the discrepancy.

"Because I am driving a rental car. I flew into Detroit then rented this car," I said. I wanted to add 'duh' but I bit my tongue instead.

"Why were you in Canada and how long were you there?"

"I was sightseeing and I only stayed overnight."

"I see. Do you have anything with you that you bought in Canada?"

"Just a few essentials - toothpaste, deodorant, that kind of stuff."

He looks in my back seat. Then he again walks to the back of the car.

"Can you open the trunk for me?" He asked.

I pulled the trunk release then got out to raise the trunk lid for him.

"Son-of-a-bitch," I said, after I looked into the empty trunk.

"What? What is it?" He asked as he took a step back and put his hand on his gun.

"There's no spare tire," I said.

"Where is your suitcase?" He asked. He did not seem the least bit amused by my little attempt at humor. His scowl never wavered.

"Back at my motel. This overnight trip was a spur of the moment decision," I said.

He looked again at my Driver's License which he still held in his hand.

"Well, Mr. Richards, I guess you can get back in your car and go." He hands me my license. I shut the trunk, get back in the car, and drive off. Canada made me feel more welcome than my own country.

Hope you enjoyed my tale of drilling in Michigan. Stay tuned for more of my life stories next Friday, featuring Hurricane Sandy. Until next time...