When was the last time a running gun battle erupted on the Canadian border at Calais?

To quote the old comic strip character, Pogo: “I have met the enemy and he is us.”

Such a confrontation occurred recently at the border crossing at Derby Line, Vermont, and Rock Island, Quebec.

Our giant northern neighbor greeted me with courtesy. The two women who staffed the trucking portion of the customs office were relaxed, friendly and bilingual. One handed me a sheaf of papers and gave me quiet instructions on how they should be filled out.

When I finished filling in the blanks, one of the officers accompanied me out to my truck, placed a customs seal on the back doors and bid me “bonjour,” with a wave and a smile.

It was late and I was tired. After turning west onto AutoRoute 10, I began looking for a rest area. I found a series of restaurants complete with ample truck parking and signs in French and English instructing drivers who wished to sleep to please park in the back row. I did so.

The next morning (3 a.m.), I walked to the nearest restaurant for coffee. As might be expected the menus and banter were all in French. When I was approached I simply said “coffee” and closed my mouth. The server smiled and replied, “Will that be all?”

It amazed me that the server was bilingual; in fact, all of the servers I dealt with in Quebec spoke fluent English as well as French.

When I paid my check, not only was my American money accepted, but also the current exchange rate was used.

I delivered my load without incident and retraced my steps to the border. Having an empty trailer, all I needed to do was pull up to an oversized American tollbooth.

I informed the officer in the kiosk that my trailer was empty. He frowned and told me that it would still cost me five dollars. I opened my wallet only to find that all I had now was about $15 in Canadian currency. I told the officer this.

“This is the USA,” he snarled.

“We don’t take Canadian.”

I calmly tried to explain that that was all I had.

His demeanor became tyrannical, his expression one of disgust. “Next time, remember, American! Now get the *@%# out of here,” he said.

I was dismissed. Without another word I put my truck in gear and moved quickly through the raised barrier, my $5 still in my pocket.

A story about three goats crossing a bridge flashed into my mind.

“Brother Gruff, where are you?”

As calm returned, I wondered why the American officer had been in such ill humor. Then I remembered another crossing I made at Calais a few years earlier.

Upon returning to the American side on that occasion, I witnessed two burly American customs officials haranguing a family of three who were attempting to return home. It seemed that the young boy (9 or 10 years old) had picked up a very old and worn set of moose antlers somewhere in the Canadian woods. The father had strapped these to the roof of the

family car with their luggage.

The customs officers had the mother and child in tears and the father stammering and apologizing for being so thoughtless as to attempt to smuggle animal parts into the United States. They told the father he could go to jail. They forcefully intimidated the entire family and seemed to actually enjoy the misery they were causing.

What is it with these American customs agents, I thought. Why must they act like Wyatt Earp with hemorrhoids?

Then it occurred to me. The Canadian officers were courteous, helpful and unarmed. The Americans were threatening, demanding and armed. Somehow, when these good Americans strap on that “big iron” they become surly law officers. When was the last time a running gun battle erupted on the Canadian border at Calais?

America’s history is filled with violence; from the first shot fired at Bunker Hill, through the smoking powder of six guns, to the LA fires and riots. But we have learned from all this, haven’t we? A gentle giant is respected far more than a tyrannical troll is, even if the troll has a gun.

Billy Goat Gruff, where are you?

Guy Bourrie has been hauling on the highways for 20 years. He lives in Washington, Maine, and can be reached at [email protected].