A Walk Of Faith

A story of my travels back in 2004. I woke up, packed a bag & started skating.

 

A Walk Of Faith (Summer 2004)      Written By: Adam Jacob Cram

                

                                         Part One

 

     The first car to stop was a small white Saab.  It pulled to the side of the on ramp not far ahead of where I stood. As I approached, I noticed the little car was looking rather full. To my surprise, the car was filled with some Springfield kids for whom I’d spent a good chunk of my childhood times around. Their mission: I was not sure. They were excited to see me; I’d been out of the area for the last couple years. I listened as they updated me on how horrible the town still was. The voices sounded tired, sounds of just gettn’ by… unhappy, but alive. It was a nice way to start this trip; though the ride did not last too long. I was let out only two exits down, which in Vermont is still a nice distance. We said the things people say when parting ways and I started walkn’ down the road. I knew where I was, and had the plan to head south for the day. I was tryn’ to get down to Connecticut. Not for any solid reason really, just a point to be at. I started to skate, my legs gearing up for whatever lay ahead. The bag was okay, given to me from Dianna. Dianna was my old brother’s wife. They have two boys, Kien & Cole. The bag was Orange; a metal frame was fastened for proper weight distribution along the spine, plenty of zippers & compartments to hold whatever unnecessary item I felt I needed. My shoes, it turned out, were my worst choice of foot wear to bring. Plus I didn’t bring a back-up pair. I had on my feet a pair of leather loafers. They’re nice for Church; but kinda rough on ‘ya feet. I did not think with much logic as to what I should bring. I looked around my room for what I thought at the time would be small items I’d want along the way. I grabbed note book, sketch book, random pens & pencils, music, tools and a few other things.

 For now I was comfortable. The road started a mellow decline, which I knew would become a steep hill with no shoulder.  So I got off my board before I got going too fast to control. These became my first steps along this path. I don’t like to stand still & expect someone to pull over. Instead I started walking, with my thumb out to the side as I heard cars drive by. If I didn’t get picked up, I was still making distance. It wasn’t long before a car pulled over ahead of me. I hurried my pace a bit, without running. I opened the side door, greeted the gesture with love & got in. Board & bag between my legs…tight fit. I was now with a father & his two daughters. He told me he usually doesn’t stop, especially with his kids, but he looked at me & felt he had too. He expressed how he loved to see me out there, and how he felt that not enough people had the guts to take a chance like that. He told me he didn’t have very far to take me. So our chat was not long, but he wanted to get me that much further. Right away I had a beautiful connection. I was taken to the outside of the town Bellows Falls.  Luck was sent with me via verbal charm & I began to walk again. Most roads in Vermont are hard to maintain due to the extreme temperature changes through the seasons. The town paves and within two years the cracks are already pushing apart.  This makes finding a place to skate was far & few at times. I walked for what seemed like twenty minutes, when a bus pulled up next to me. The little doors swung open revealing a little old man sittn’ behind the wheel. “You lookn’ like you could use a ride young fella’. The bus is free.” He said. This sounded good to me. I made my way up into the bus and notices I was the only one on the bus. I got comfy and relaxed as the bus took me most of the way to the bottom of Vermont. I fell in and out of sleep as we slowly made our way along old roads. The driver would stop at little stops along the way, nobody was around. I thought of the life of the driver. We didn’t speak, though I felt a good energy between us. Perhaps in a younger stage, he too was picked up while back packing & this was his day to return the love. I was there for at least a couple hours. I looked at my books a bit, slept a bit & thought of where I wanted to go. I concluded that I didn’t want to make a specific destination; my thinking was I didn’t want to set myself up for a failed path. I simply wanted to go & let Jah guide me. I was let out at a Friendly’s parking lot, the bus turned & headed back up into Vermont. I was at an exit ramp, one way going north through Vermont, the other heading down through Mass. I walked to the South facing on ramp & began to fish for a ride. This was a slow process. I looked at hundreds of cars, all types too. Full of different people with different lives all passing me by onto the interstate. As I was beginning to feel I needed to start walking. As I gave myself the ‘five minute countdown’ a car pulled up. A small old red sporty car rumbled beside me. The inside was full of papers, clothes, and empty food containers. The driver: A young woman full of big dreams & stress. She was friendly right off, let me cram into the car with all my shtuff & get a ride to New Haven. That rocked, finding a ride across a full state can be hard. So I felt I was off to a good start. The radio kinda worked, but the atmosphere was nice. I rolled up a joint, at her request and I relaxed in the small red car. Even the inside was red: seats, floor & ceiling. I zoned out: sat and listened to what she had to tell me. My ears took in her words, while my eyes take in the passing billboards molesting my view of the Earth. I was let out in New Haven, in front of a coffee shop on a “cool” street somewhere. I’d never been here before, plus now I was sleepy from being in the car for so long. So I didn’t think to chill & see what the vibe was around there. Instead I rolled a smoke & began to walk to a gas station. I knew a map would be in a gas station. It was only a minute or so before the car rolled back up to me. “Adam, you forgot these!” My sun glasses came flyn’ out the car at me. “Hellz Yeah” I spat out. I am really bad at keeping sun glasses; I lose and or break every pair. Next was the map finding mission. T’was an easy mission; I scoped out a path to take for the next couple days, got a coffee & started to skate. Right off I noticed how once you leave the area full of neon signs & cafes; the town became isolated & run down. I grew up with this image in my life; Vermont can be the same way. An all the towns & states I’ve seen going back & forth, to & fro… all over. For hours I walked & skated, flowing in and out of towns & wooded areas. I slowly flowed like water along the twisting roads along the way. I have skated for so long I find myself lost in thought, while still able to read every inch of the road in front of me. I would take breaks, and walk up most of the hills along the way. I did like to challenge myself and skate up hill, but I wanted to hold off the stink as long as possible. I still held out my thumb as I listened for the rushing of cars passing from behind me. Although I skate inches away from them, I still have never been worried about being hit. It’s not something I even think about when I’m skating. If it happens, I will survive or I won’t.

 Without foretelling, the road came to a T. I had no idea where I was. I had been skating along for hours following one route. All I could see are big houses, perfect lawns & shiny mini vans. Not my neck of the woods. From my sight, no signs gave me any idea where to go. The road ended. I stood for a bit, thought for a bit. Crossed the road & sat under a fine patch of shrubbery. Although it was not the finest of shrubbery, it was indeed a fine patch of shrubbery. I could see down the road, shrubbery which had rounded trim, lawn gnomes & perhaps guarded by a little white fence, even a path down the middle… hmmm.

  I checked my board, drank some water & had a snack. I was looking to see which way the most cars were driving. I thought around the time of day it was, most of the cars are coming back from the city. So I followed what I thought was the way to the city. Thinking I’d see a sign, pointing me in a way I could use. The blocks became pristine, the roads smooth as can be. Each lawn had the same amount of trees, one. It was gettn’ pretty dark & I had no clue what to do, how to get out of the area. It just seemed to pop right up. I guess I was closer to where I didn’t want to be. I was tryn’ to find some woods to camp out in, but I went with the flow, following the path I was on. I stopped and chatted with some college kids standing at their steps. Asked them where I was, and how to find woods. They told me on foot it would be a while, I’d be better off finding a hotel around here. I knew that would cost at least $120.00. I had around $50.00. I was riding my board at a slow pace. The wheels like a metronome, clanking along the best sidewalk I’ve ever skated on. My sight was filtered by yellow street lights. It put a great tone to my night, quiet & warm. I was no longer thinking about finding woods; instead I focused on trusting my place in the world. Be here now. Be here now. After a while, I came to a gas station. Out front was a Moving van. I sat and rolled a smoke. A couple walks out from inside, see’s me sittn’ and said hello. A quick and friendly conversation started about where they’re moving too & asking where I was going. They left, and I decided to get some juice.

 

 Inside the small building, there was a long line. I couldn’t imagine that this many people would be inside at once. I didn’t even see anyone going in…strange. I grabbed some juice & stood in line. Not a moment passed, when someone said to me, “Hey man, you one the road? That’s pretty cool.” A dude standing in front of me had seen me walk in. “I’m going somewhere brother”. I told him. By the time I reached the counter, I had made a new friend. He quickly invited me over to his place for a couple beers & food. This sounded just fine with me. I can’t for the life of me remember his name, so for the sake of the story we’ll call him ‘Bob’. So Bob had a sweet apartment with a fenced in yard, screen hut with a fire pit. The inside was well lit. I notice lighting where ever I am, photography has been a passion of mine for a while now. I was impressed with the place; it felt as if he made a good chunk of change in whatever it was he did. “Why do you live on this corner?” I asked. “I study cancer at Yale”. He replied. “Go on…” Spoke I.  He informed me his studies at Yale, a project so profound & inconceivable; my mind dare not recall what it is. We made our way out to his fire pit. He made some food, and I sat & sipped a beer. The environment was mellow; the night was young in this city I knew little about. Bob did his thing inside the house, leaving I outside like I was an old friend. Blessed was I to be trusted by people I run into on the street. I hold I drink up to the Most High & Give Thanks. Bob offered that I stay & sleep in his yard. This offer I did not deny. We set up a pile of things for I to sleep on inside his cool screened in chill zone.  After some franks, we went for a drive. He drove around the city, showing me the school, the laboratory facility of medicine & secret stuff. And we drove around some clubs, bars & the places where folks was at! Cool town, though I was too young to be in the clubs and bars. At this time in I life I was only 18…cha-chong. So we went back to the house. He didn’t stay up too late, and I was soon alone to chill next to a fire with a beer & my herbs. I rolled a spliff & Gave Thanks. The sounds of the city around me left me in a daze. I felt good at being in a strange place with a bag & my board. Going nowhere with little money was comfortable to grasp.  Be here now. I listened to the sounds of the city until I fell asleep.

 

I woke with the sun, stretched & packed my stuff. The area I made sure was spick & span. I was awake a while before Bob walked out. He had work to get to, I ate a bagel & left. I was on the road at 8:15am. I headed the way we went last night. I remembered seeing an intersection with big signs that had white arrows & numbers. That was my mission. The houses no longer surrounded me, now it became vast valley of shops, cafés & other. The city was alive with coffee drinkers, peeing dogs & early morning meetings. The day was young, very young. I didn’t know where to go & I wasn’t in a big hurry to find it. I was feeling the vibes of people watching, plus I wanted to chill out to let the sun rise a bit more. So I rolled around slowly on I board.  I came up to a park. It wasn’t too big, a circle framed public nature zone with a big fountain statue in the middle. Loads of people sitting on the fountain; faces full of coffee & cell phones.  I felt the urge not to go to it, so I turned left. In front of me was a path cutting through the side of a couple large office buildings. I decided that was I path, and headed down between the buildings. This led to a neighborhood, hiding behind the center of the city.  I followed the alley & came to another park. It’s funny I came to it, right after turning away from another park, just a block away. I guess I’ll go and sit; I had nothing else to do. I wasn’t finding my way out, so I’ll just rest a bit.

 

                So there I was, in a park. It’s probably around 10:00 in the morning. I was looking for a place to sit, my bag was heavy & I had no real plan for the day yet… plus I didn’t know where I was. So plop. Music playn’ on my headphones…Skateboard wheels still spinning & warm.  This brought memories of burning my hand on the trucks a couple times after long days of riding around my town. There was little for the youth to turn to, other than ego driven sports or trouble, in that town. Anyway, my stash of herbs was already low… not unusual. It was nice to burn a spliff in the morning before a day of being on my feet with my bag & board. The thought of finding herb began to clutter my thoughts. The chances low, but I enjoy the challenge. So I begin by emitting the vibration into the air with I thoughts. Soon enough, a tall heavy set man walks, slowly, up I way. I felt he was going to stop & chat with I…which he did. “Yo man, that’s a nice smell. You let me in on that?” His voice was clearly on a mission. I don’t mind, herb is the healing of the Nations. So I pass the spliff & introduce I-self.

 

His head spun back & forth, puffn’ like he was in the gym locker room. We chatted for a bit, he told me about the area. He let me know that herb was close by, and it would be nice to smoke a blunt. It sounded good…I chatted more, figuring out if it was a good idea for I to chill with this dude. I didn’t mind, I like to trust. So I said a blunt sounded fantastic & he had me follow him a couple blocks to a corner store for some blunts. Soon as we left the park, the area changed. I was no longer in rich New Haven area. Now I was in the real city, where the poor lived. The park was the fine line between rich and poor. Nice marble & glass buildings on one side, then old brick & wood houses, most with chipping paint & dusty windows. The corner store was clearly old. Two men stood outside the door smoking. One was wearing a “wife beater or A-shirt” with black paints. His hair was picked out into a tangled mess. He looked like he’d had a tough life. Most likely eatn’ a few fists, along with dishn’em out too. He spotted me from a far & I could feel right off that he knew I wasn’t from around here. I’m sure he knew who I was with & that probably stood out. This is, by now, eleven or noonish. Nothing was said when I got to the door, I just looked into his eyes as I passed, so he knew I wasn’t scrrrd. The place was tiny & filled with food, boxes, crates & random items which sat without order around the shop. I grabbed a bottle of cheap Orange Juice & said to the clerk, “four Philly Blunts”. It’s always a nice feeling to buy the two products together. The walk was nice, I was mainly listening to what he had to say…which is now lost in my mind. I know it had to do with his life. We sat back in the park, same bench. People jogging & hobo’s waking up. He asks right away if I’m lookn’ for herb; “Well I’m not high on funds, but I’d rather at least have herb for my path.” I gave him some money, even though I felt a little weird about the way this dude was presenting himself… shady or dodgy as my English friends put it. He told me to chill & he’d be back. Which I didn’t mind, then he asked if he could listen to my music while he ran. I thought right off that he wasn’t going to return. Then I thought of the Sage. I knew that if someone wanted my shirt, I should give it to them without question. The true separation is to bring that ideal into the materialistic world. Thus, I handed him the CD player & head phones. It was playn’ Nirvana at the time… He said to wait for him & walked off.

 

  What started next was a hazy period of confusion & paranoia, the key factor being I had no watch on me. Plus I was feeling kinda outta place in this park at this particular time of day. The night before was still fresh on my mind, along with the physical energy this trip was taking. On top of that, I was pondering the direction I would head after my park fiasco. All this was sending me into small states of day dream. I would soon pop out of it thinking I’d been sitting there for hours, if not days, if not years.  When in reality it was only maybe possibly twenty minutes… or two. So this went on for some time, I looked around for Mr. Dude, who was getting me herb for us to smoke blunts. Well, my head got filled with madness & I was so sure that I had been in the park all day & that he was not coming back with my CD player or herbs. So I stood up & started walking. “Whatever” I thought. It had occurred to me that I had worn headphones for a good percent of my high school years. If I was walking around, I had them on. I also had with me a large book holding about 200 plus CDs. It was a very nice collection of music; ranging from Bob Marley to Erykah Badu, Mozart to White Zombie. I had no use for this music, and I knew I wouldn’t get much for it at a pawn shop. Walkn’ down a busy part of the city, lots of people & cars. It was nice though, people on the street selling flowers & shirts; It wasn’t just business suits walkn’ from box to box. I thought of walkn’ around & letting people pick out a CD. I walked up to a couple sitting with their dog. “Hi, I’m walking on a long trip & I’d like to give you some free music. It no longer has value to me, so I’d like to share them with the people around me.” There was a moment of pause, the man smiled & started to look at the book. He came across an old Metallica album. He smiled & mentioned another CD from Slayer. I let him have both. The Queen picked an Aerosmith & Grateful Dead CD. This clearly put them both into a great mood. It felt great to shed I music on other people,  bring music to their lives. Each album I had was part of who I was today. Each album had a strong part in I growth, and I was like passing on a torch.

In front of me was a Gelato stand. I walked up & introduced myself. I spoke of my trip & morning. Behind the freezer was a middle sized man.  His voice was bold, and he was also a warm person. I offered all my music. Again I said the book had no value to my trip & I felt it would be in better use with someone new; like passing a book or something. So the man filled a cup with espresso gelato & handed it to me. He took the music & looked through it; so much music in perfect condition with booklets & put in order by genre. He was amazed. He repeatedly asked if I was sure. Happiness became his name. He told me to put down my bag & chill. He then started talkn’ about his stand & refilled my cup with each flavor. This was nice, the sun was hot. An Idea hit him like a brick! “Adam, stay here & I’ll be right back. You see the corner down there!?” he pointed down the road, which had many corners & intersections. “My bank is right there, I want to get some money out. If someone comes, take an order…don’t over charge.” And like that he rushed off. So, here I was, in Connecticut…running a Gelato stand right in downtown somewhere! Not bad… No one came for Gelato, the owner returned with money. He ordered a pizza. Not just any pizza, this one was goin’ to be good. For thirty bucks it should be. It was delivered right to us on the street. We ate, it was damn good. He was happy, I was full. It was time for me to leave…the day was getting late. As I was getting ready, the man repeated just how happy he was about this day. Something he’d never forget. I like to be in people’s lives like that.

 

  The rest of I day was simple: Skating, walking, skating, walking. Crossing roads, waking up hills…guessing what Route will take me where. I look at signs that say South, West. I may be on a big ‘zigzag’ down the coast. I didn’t talk to anyone for the rest of the day. Just moved along, looking at the world around me. All the buildings looked broken & run down; far away from the wealth & cafes. People sat around on porches with neighbors; drinkn’ beers & burning smokes, while kids play on the sidewalks. People check me out as I pass by, bright orange hair, bright orange bag… that day I also let go of another weight for I to carry. I took with I a sling bag, or “Man Purse” full of Art materials. It was adding weight I did not want to deal with the rest of the trip. I had only just started this, too heavy a weight.

 I made the choice to stop at the next trash can available for public use. The can sat at the edge of the property, currently occupied by an Italian Pizza house. With a deep breath, I opened the sketch books for one last glance. I mind, without effort, began to find options so I did not have to let go of another strong attachment. It was time, I left the whole bag next to the can. Someone was sure to think it was a good find. Now that I stopped, I was thirsty. I made I way into the Pizza joint, setting I stuff at an empty booth. I then went straight for the bathroom. Let go of some liquids, made sure my face wasn’t full of grime and gave it a rinse.  After the wash, I walked to the register to ask for some water. Right away I was asked if I was hitch hiking. “Why yes I am” I answered.  “I have much respect for you! I too spent many months of I young life thumbing around the country. And I just don’t see people out on the roads like I used to”. The man at the register said. “This is my place, I would love to give you a good meal tonight!” I was not smooth at my emotional response. At first I giggled a little, and then said,” That would be awesome”. I did just have pizza, but whatever.  I sat down at the table, what a feeling. I could’ve slept right there. The boss man made up a nice pie. I took I time and enjoyed another free meal.  It was getting late, so I Give many thanks and took off. I didn’t even think about the bag I’d left behind.

 The Sun set as I followed strange roads, coasting along at a numb pace. At this point, my feet felt as if they’d been on fire. My legs felt weak, so I began to think of what to do with my night. I had zoned out & when I realized it, the Sun was almost gone. I knew not where I was, but it was late. Along the road, the grass was grown in real high. I could easily hide in the tall bush & sleep for a couple hours. I was far enough from shops & houses, I didn’t feel sketchy. It was really quite nice. The bank was a nice curve to guide water along the road (it was dry at this point) & the Sky was amazing.  I laid back on my board, feet up on my bag. I sunk into my hoodie as best I could, the night got cold when I stopped moving, each night thus far felt cold. This made for a lot of tossn’ and shiftn’ around.

 

                        Part Two

 

  I awoke. Blackness surrounded me. I forgot for a moment where I was, the tall grass confused me. It was the sounds I heard that woke me. An incoherent mumbling of what sounded like two men. As I studied the sounds coming from the road, I concluded that alcohol was most likely the drive & reason for there being where they were at such an hour. I was kinda concerned for my well-being. I couldn’t see them, for I was still in the ditch. I didn’t want to move, making noise & potentially causing trouble for me. It musta been like 3:00am, what are they doing out here? I didn’t know my location, all I knew is their sounds kept gettn’ closer. I didn’t want them seeing me, or messing with me. Layn’ low in the shadow…ready to fight, ready to kill at this point. I was ready for the s**t to go down…then, without any clear reason, they stopped. “What’s that s**t?” One of the shadowy figures mutters. “I don’t know…” Both men stood there lost at what lay before them. I didn’t even look up, feeling sure enough as if they’d seen me. My mind was going crazy at this point, heart racing. Then something funny... “I think it’s a light, man.” His thoughts drizzling out of his face,“A light? Goddamn!” The men had been startled by a yellow flashing construction sign down yonder from us, about one hundred feet or so. I quickly felt better, even facing the new challenge of not laughing out loud. After mumbling some more, they stumbled away & I took that as a sign it was a good time for me to start moving again. I grabbed my stuff in a slight frantic manner, shoving it into pockets on the bag. I later learned I’d left my sun glasses & some other small things, like my lighter, in the ditch. Oh well… 

 

  I rode on down the road, following some stars that stood out among the trees & clouds. The night was cool, and the sky was I guide. For me, skating this early/late is surreal. There are times I remember doing so, getting back from friends’ houses, or skating at night cause I couldn’t sleep…getting out of a night shift job for break. The energy of the human influence on Earth is very still. Few engines humming, electricity can barely be heard. Something we seldom feel, let alone drift through. It was very quiet, only a couple cars had passed by in the last hour or so. I remember hearing a deer following me in the trees for about five minutes or so. At first it was kinda uncanny, but when I thought of the pattern of the steps, I could tell it was a deer. My mind will take off in a dash of figuring out sounds, patterns, and whatever else will catch my attention throughout life. It’s helped me more than I’d figure. I can recall a time when someone had hit a baseball over a wooden fence into a grassy field. They had to get the ball, but became frustrated when they couldn’t see where the ball went over the fence. I walked around with them, explaining about the speed & bounce of the ball, along with the resistance of the grass adding up to the most likely place for their baseball. It took only about two minutes to locate the ball. It felt pretty good when that worked out so smooth.

            Back on the road… I figure it’s about 5:30am. The slight tint of orange was sneaking up on the horizon. I was running out of energy, and I’d been skating since the two men woke I from I bush nap. So after some eye balln’ I made a spot in some bushes, beneath a pine tree, behind a super market, inna plaza somewhere. I didn’t have many choices, and it didn’t look like this dense brick & window landscape was going to change. Still sleepy & getting hungry… I was having trouble ignoring it. I knew I only had a couple bucks on me, so my chances of a full breakfast were slim. So I gave in for a maple doughnut & a small cup of water. This would give me a bit of energy to get me till noon. I liked to sleep when it’s hot outside anyways. Went back to the bush, ate & sat. Breathe… I place myself within the Great Awe. Into the Nothing. From the sight of the people around me, the day is rising. Trucks drove around the back of the stores, unloading todays merchandise, one after another.  The smells of diners, coffee, the first smokes on the job being lit was all around I. I sat back, began to breath and detach from the smells distracting I.  I appear as the tree, which rests my weight, and the bush, which guards my sight. The dirt that grounds me. Here I am, now. Alive. Me. I am all that surrounds me, the elements that bound me to flesh & bone. I call it home, Om. The Temple is me, for I house consciousness, oneness. I feel the past, the land that was before domination. A place of wild forests now lay in ruin to Strip Malls & Fast Food. How Mankind can see it as progress is beyond me. People file in, pick a box. Pay for box. Drive back to your box, in your mobilized box. Eat what’s within box. Watch propaganda box. Sleep, repeat. This is Freedom? To I, it only looks like chains, lies & illusions. Not I.

 The Sun was up, the sound of cars crept up on me like the tide. So I felt it was time to move on. I decided to walk for a while, wasn’t quite sure where I was.  The road led me through the day, in and out of neighborhoods that blended together. The weather was nice, I didn’t have to worry much that day about the heat. My feet had been hurtn’ all day. I knew this would happen, so I didn’t think much of it all day. I just skated until it felt numb. Today was a quiet day for me, I kept to myself which helped me get a good distance. I easily find hours lost listening to the tales of strangers… well I don’t feel like people are strangers, maybe that’s why I can walk up to most anyone without freakn’ them out. This doesn’t help when I’m tryn’ to get things done, or traveling with other people.. They stop for gas & a minute later I’m inside the station talkn’ it up to the workers, people in line, the police sippn’ coffee, it don’t matter.  It’s fun to approach people who would normally judge, or not expect I to interact with them. Sometimes I search them out… It’s those people I like to listen to.

 

The day was in full swing. My feet burned, and I couldn’t ignore it any longer. I felt I was heading out of the populated area, so I decided to make a camp in the first good spot, which was the corner of what looked like a nice sized farm. The rim of the land was grown in, so I was hidden inside eight feet of bush & trees. It was early in the year too, to the ground was still clean, no bugs. I took some time & made a nice hut. I bent vines, sticks & leaves together, creating the perfect little hut for me to rest. I couldn’t see the any buildings on the land, so I felt okay about sleeping on it. One last thing, I wanted to wash up. Some could say I was starting to put off a “musky” smell. There was a McDonalds across the road. Feet hurting so much at this point, I was making a strange face as I walked. I didn’t notice until I saw an old lady looking at me. I went inside to wash up & for a cup of Orange Juice.  I had just enough on me, just enough meaning it was my last of my funds  as well. I felt it was well spent, juice is always enough for me. I returned to my spot & took off my shoes. I was ready for them to fall right off..they didn’t.  My feet felt better already in the air. I made a pile of fresh soil & rested my feet right on it. Leaning back on my sack, I enjoyed my juice and drifted off into a nice sleep.

 

I woke the next day, nice and early. The air was chilled, my feet felt cold. I must have slept for ten or so hours.  My feet felt a bit better, though I knew I really needed better shoes. After a couple handfuls of granola, I packed- up the site. Leave no trace. Again most of the day was on my board. I decided to hit the interstate. It wasn’t hard to find an exit ramp, and I wasn’t bothered my cops when they passed. Sometimes it takes two cars before I get a ride. Other times it took 200 cars to pass before somebody stopped. I never had people mess with me, ‘ya know, by slowing down or stopping. Then driving off as I get close..

 

One morning I remember walking through a neighborhood around 5:00am. I wasn’t sure if I was going in the right direction, and as I was dwelling on it, a man spoke from behind me.  “Well where you heading this early?” spat out in a kinda goofy way to quickly make him seem friendly. It was a skinny man, likely in his mid-40’s. I could tell right off that his life had been full of tribulations most commonly around alcohol and or violence. I didn’t want to ignore him, as most people likely do. I told him of what I was up to, and how I was looking for a general path away from the city sprawl. He said I was right on route, and then asked if I was hungry. Being the hour it was, a local food shelf was getting ready to serve a handful of local homeless & crack heads. I was told if I was hungry, to just follow him. I thought of following this guy & how that could be a bad choice, but again, I try to actively trust people. So off I went with Larry; we’ll call him Larry.  Sure enough I was headed right to a shelter. I felt the stare of an entire room soon as I entered. Nothing really negative, just a sense of “who is that?” or “What is Larry up to now?” I felt a little odd being there, like I wasn’t welcome. I asked if it was okay that I was brought here. It was just fine… The table in the middle of the room offered your basic breakfast options. The shelter was being run by a handful of lovely little old ladies. I’m sure at first they thought I was some junky kid, but I smiled & introduced myself and they quickly turned off any judgment. They asked where I was from, what Vermont was like. They chatted about my hair and how they had color in their hair at one point. They all came down to the shelter to help a couple times a week. They were already awake, some had lost husbands, or partners already, so this was like a filler as they awaited reuniting with our ancestors.  I ate a bagel covered in a thin layer of cream cheese. I’m not much of an eater in the morning. When I wake I’m usually ready to go for half the day. I seem to work well with a good intake of H20. Along with the warm food, the ladies insisted I filled my bag with some canned goods.

   At the time the donations felt like an awesome idea. Yet, later that day I quickly felt the strain of all those cans. On top of that, the weight began to take effect on my bag. Holding the fabric on the metal rim was made of thin metal loops. They looked like an alternative way to sell paper clips. The bag was not the best to use, although I was ill prepared for what I was in the middle of. The bag was given to I from Diana, mother of I Eldest brother’s two boys. How could I not use the bag? It was the best I had to use, so Give Thanks. This was all part of I path. I could see the stitch was starting to loosen along corners and stress points from all the weight within. Without wasting any of the food, I began to lighten the load. I had two or three large cans of Pineapple Juice & Orange Juice. The labels looked as if they were printed in the 60’s. I screwdriver worked well to pop a hole in the first can…perhaps not the best or cleanest way, but effective none the less. I punctured a can, riding along the road sippn’ on free juice. I questioned the year this juice was made, but only a little.  They sky was getting dark, the air cooling down.  My knuckles, knees & feet started to feel uncomfortable…rain. I knew I didn’t have much time before I became wet. I was close to an interstate, but I didn’t want to stand along the on-ramp while getting rained on. So I ran into the forest running along the interstate looking for a giant Pine. Just as I got under, the sky broke open.

Rain fell like bricks. I was sitting under a tree waiting for the rain to stop. At this point I was soaking wet, tryn’ to get a can of beef stew open with just a screw driver. This became quite the task for me. As I pounded the top of the can, tryn’ to break a hole into the top, the rain fell harder & harder. I couldn’t hear the interstate which was only a couple hundred feet away. I had violently pounded a hole in the top of the can of stew. Now I was tryn’ to get another hole in the other side of the lid. Every time I hit the can, juicy splashes of stew sprayed all over me. After a couple splashes, I accepted my fate & just embraced the stew. It was a wet & beefy combo of liquid sensations, wrapped in a strong stormy wind. The few mangled pieces of potato or beef I picked & sucked out of the sharp gouges, made by the tools in my bag, felt like an accomplishment to my hunger. I was soaking wet, tryn’ to stay warm & sprinkled with stew… If I was in Yellow Stone, I’d be the perfect snack for a Grizzly...take a moment to picture..mmm, bears. After thinkn’ about my options, I came to a conclusion: I can sit & stay cold, or stand cold by the road with a slight chance of getting picked up. To the road I went. I sat with my back against my bag to keep it a bit more dry than I. Being under Pines during a down pour is a magical place to be… I will always feel like a gnome in places like that.

 

    Part Three

 

      On the road, few cars passed by. To my surprise I did get a ride without waiting long. An old white van pulled up. The van quickly reminded me of vans I’d seen in skateboard videos...beat up & ready to rock. Or to most people, it looked like the classic white van from a murder movie. Spots of rust along the trim gave it character. The passenger door swung open exposing a round, semi-nude man sat in the driver’s seat. “Hope ‘ya don’t mind me in my boxers, I’m on my way home from work & this rain left me soaked;  Jump in if ‘ya lookn’ for a ride”. I jumped in right away & the van spun off down the road & onto the interstate. The driver was a friendly fella; talkn’ about his busy life. I was happy to be out of the rain, even if it was in a old creepy van with a half-naked man. Being such a large van, I didn’t notice the speed at which we had been gaining as he went on… “Our exit is up here, sorry it couldn’t be more” he noted verbally. We made it maybe four miles…eh, it was a ride. Now, this is the good part: As he turned for the exit ramp, the van kinda stayed in, we’ll call it, Turning Limbo…or you could call it hydroplaning down the road at 50mphs. I watched from the corner of my eyes, this dude turning the wheel all the way to the right, yet we just kept going straight toward the guard rail. I remember feeling rather calm. Growing up testing my body in various ways, gave me the acceptance of “near-death situations” as some people put it. Time seemed to slow to a barely visible speed. The van was now gliding towards a guard rail, large drops of rain seemingly exploding onto the window as it descended from the Heavens.  My legs still crossed, arm still resting on the door; I sat and watched as the driver sat back in his chair, no longer able to control his future.  We hit the rail head on & slid like a skateboard down about 50 feet. When it came to a stop, I was nearly falling out of my seat toward the driver.  I looked to check if all was well. The back of the van was near empty, so no tools or other objects broke. So I then jumped out of my door, which was the highest point at this time & took a photo. The rain had already stopped. I couldn’t see any major damage to the van; it seems we had a perfect crash. Bob popped out & walked around to me. “I am so very sorry to do this to you” he started. I didn’t let him go on, telling him how happy I was to experience this with him… It didn’t take long before a car stopped to check on us. A Silver Oldsmobile & the driver was a nice woman from the area. We told her that we didn’t need medical attention, so she stayed to help figure out what our next move would be. Bob asked if I’d like a ride into the town with him while he figured out how to get the van moved. The woman was more than happy to drop us off at his place, which was right down the road. The silver car pulled up to a blue house in a little neighborhood. A few possible family members sat on the porch and were confused as to why their friend was getting out of a strange car with some dirty youth they’d never seen. Normal greetings was had, my existence was explained so that I could enter the porch area. Bob told me to hang low while he got the van moved. And like that he was gone… So, there I am. I was asked a few familiar questions: How do you do that to your hair? Where are you heading? Does anyone mess with you on the road? How do you wash your hair? Can you even wash it? I answered in a friendly tone. I noticed one of these folks smokn’ a Newport, so I asked for one. Bouncing between the ‘adults’ was a few teen-aged girls, I tried to engage in small talk. I’m never any good at this, so instead of chattn’ it up, it would be a couple words, then silence. At least I don’t lose my cool by such silences. I liked this house/ neighborhood. I reminded me of Vermont, poor but happy. No fancy cars, paint falln’ off the walls. Sidewalks cracked & locals aimlessly walkn’ about talkn’ to people at each house. This went on for about an hour; small talk & simple interactions. I didn’t realize the time for a while, and then it kinda took over my thoughts. So I grabbed my stuff & walked away. Plopped the long board down & jumped on gliding down the new road. I didn’t get more than a mile when a police car pulled up. “Get off that board right now” he told me as if he owned me. I put my foot down & asked why? “Skateboarding is illegal in this town. If I see you on it again, you will have a night in jail.” I laughed in his face, then gave him a good stare down. “So, even though I don’t live here & I’m clearly passing through minding my own life, you’d still arrest me?” I asked bluntly. I could tell he was waiting for me to make my move; ready to have a ‘hippie beat-down’. He didn’t answer, just glared at me. So back into his eyes I looked…with the fire of a million skaters. And with a quick move, I said “Fine”. I grabbed my board & started walking.  The cop followed behind me, driving at the pace of my walk. I let the board bounce off the ground, poles, and cracks until I came to a bridge that led out of the town. The bridge dropped down into a tunnel. After the cop turned around, I grabbed my big black marker & wrote “Free your minds” in fat letters on the bridge. I signed & dated the words, spit on it & walked away. It was getting dark, so I walked with a mission in my pace. After crossing the bridge into a new state, I was now looking for a place to sleep for the night. Right off the bridge, I saw only a quiet neighborhood layout. This didn’t leave me with confident thoughts of finding a warm hole in the woods. I passed houses for about a mile, much nicer than the ones right across the river. After about a mile, I came to a Pennsylvania welcoming center. This was snuggled right next to a couple on ramps for the interstate. Since it was pretty much dark, I was ready to find a place to crash. I went inside the center and used the restroom to wash my essential stink spots. It was real quiet, only two men sat around getting ready for the night shift of cleaning, waxing & polishing everything inside this little building. I headed back outside to see what I could do. The sky had changed plans for the night & began to release and ever so soft rain on me. It was the kind of rain you don’t notice, than a minute later you are cold and moist. I felt the best place for the night was under a bench that was outside in the lawn of the center. Cold concrete and a steady rain became my bed. I used my skateboard as a pillow & my pack as a make-shift wall to guard against the rain a bit. On this night, the rain shifted and lightly hit my face. I tried to ignore it & sleep, but that just was not going to happen. Perhaps rolling over would help, nope. Like the smoke at a camp fire, no matter where I turned the misty rain seemed to follow me. Now I was damp & cold. The concrete pad the bench was on did not improve my situation. I had enough.. I crawled out and onto my feet. Maybe if I offered to mop the floor of the welcoming center, they’d let me sleep on the floor or in the closet. It wouldn’t hurt to ask.  I asked, and was turned down. I walked back outside, grumpy & sleepy. My feet hurt from standing all day, my clothes had been rained on earlier & now I was being rained on again. This was making for a long night. What to do…I didn’t really want to leave from this ramp, cause who knows how long I’d end up walking before I hit another one. I stood, thinking.

 Across the street was a brown house with a brown garage. My gut told me to pay attention to this house. I looked as if no one was living in it from the outside. The garage was calling to me. Anything looked good at this point, and even though it seemed a bit crazy, I walked over to the house. I found a square on the garage door was popped out. I looked around as if someone was watching me. First my pack, then my board & lastly I squeezed into the square. The garage was dark & empty. The only thing I saw was a large carpet which was rolled up. So, I unrolled it. It didn’t smell too nasty…I laid down on the carpet, rolled myself up in it. Within moments I was one warm kid. I slept so well…

 

I woke to a wheel right in front of me. A wheel! Someone has parked their car in the garage I thought was empty. Since I was rolled into the carpet, I could just reach out to see what was going on. I had to unroll myself from the cocoon. Now that I had an object in my way, getting out became a challenge. I was able to make half a rotation before I hit the wheel…damn. I pictured walking in on myself tryn’ to get out of a carpet in a strangers garage. The places I put myself in amaze me at times. Needless to say, I figured out my escape. I was able to This was not easy, and I’m sure I looked ridiculous. I don’t think that if someone walked in they’d be alarmed as to the ridiculousness of the situation. As quietly as I could, I put the carpet back. The garage door was shut, so getting out & away from the house was a bit more intense than the entrance. I stood at the square hole in the door, mentally preparing for being busted. With a deep breath, I took the faithful step out the square back into the world. First my pack, then the board & lastly I squeezed out the small square hole. I casually gathered my things and walked down the driveway, passed a few windows which exposed my presents to those who may have been inside the house. When I reached the road, I felt my stress level float away. I had successfully managed to sleep in a carpet, in a random garage for the night. And nobody came out the house guns blazing. I guess I can check that off my list of things to do in life. I didn’t think till much later the fact that the car could’ve easily parked right on top of my head..ha!

 The sky was blue, the air was warm & I had fresh energy for the day. I walked up to the on ramp, lifted my thumb & took a deep breath. Not a minute later a big red truck pulled up. “I’m driving to work, so you can ride along till I get off again; should be about a half hour or so”. I thanked him for the offer and quickly tossed my stuff in the back. This dude was real nice. He was happy to see me on the road. He thanked me for doing what I do & that it meant a lot to him to see that kind of trust I have for people. “Too many people just walk around with their heads down” he shared. “When you can trust you place in the universe, you really can glide through anything”. He was a spitting image of a pick-up driving man would be. Blue jeans, old shirt & a ball cap.

 

I was dropped off & left with positive energy to take with me. I usually walk off the road and sit for a second before I take post for another ride. It was now around 10:00am; the day of the week was unknown to me & had been for some time. I sat on a guard rail, rolled a smoke & thought about what to do. I saw a cool VW Hippie Bus heading my way, but in the opposite direction of the road I was on. As I sat the van slowed down. From the other side of the interstate, a friendly looking human came running across the street & approached me. “Sorry we’re not going your way” he stated. “Here is a beer for your travels, this is all I have to offer”. And with a smile, he turned and headed back to the van. I don’t drink beer, especially not a Budlight, and still I couldn’t deny such an act of consideration. I knew I could make use of this beer.  I held it up high to signal my item, offering in trade, for temporary transportation. It didn’t take long before I got a “bite”. Another big truck pulled up, it was the day of the ‘Man-Truck’. “I’ll give you a ride until I finish that beer”. It’s hard for me to explain every person I ran into. It’s like tryn’ to talk about each tree as you walk through the forest. For the sake of the story, it was a middle aged man. He had a scruffy face that hid under the rim of the baseball. I handed him the beer, tossed my weight in the back & climbed in. This dude was nice, we didn’t say too much, but the energy was comfortable. He took his time sippn’ the cold brew as to make sure I got a good ride. This made me very happy. I went at least a half hour before I was again sitting on my board thinkn’ of what to do next.   Being accepted into a person’s car without them ever knowing me is like being smiled at by Jah. Every time I step out of a vehicle, I am filled with such child-like joy. Like I glow! To feel at peace sitting on the side of an interstate you don’t know, in a state you don’t know, a town you didn’t even see the name of, or having no idea of what the next 5 minutes will bring let alone the next 5 days; is a comfort that has & will forIver be my drive in life.

 

****

 

 I remember one day I was walkn’ along. I thought about smoking a responsibly sized joint. I had a little herb on me, and I knew it wouldn’t last. So instead of tryn’ to make it last, I just twisted it up like normal, until it was gone. I knew if it was ment to be, I’d find more herb later. It’s funny, I remember a cop passing by me as I was thinkn’ of where I’d go to smoke. As the cop passed, my thoughts took off. “What if the cop turns around and follows me..?” I mean, I’m just some dude walkn’ in this town… who knows if a million people live here, or if I stand out like a burning bush.  I felt if I turned off the road now, and he does turn around, he’ll notice that I’m possibly hiding on him… then when I do start walking again, he’ll pull me over. So this went on, and I ended up walking a few minutes more… I stopped at a gas station. When I sat down outside, a van pulled up and a family poured out. They got out, toys falling onto the ground...dog sniffing the rocks near us… It was a nice bubble to be next to. I remember the mother figure kept peeking at me, and smiling. I thought of where they might be driving to.  I didn’t stay long, just a spot to think about my next couple hours.  Find water, fill it…roll a smoke & I’m off!  The road was a nice in that area.. My board coasted along in a steady pace, as I took in the world around me.  I came across a nice patch of a woody area, under an over-pass. So I lost myself within the patch of dense vegetation.  It was a beautiful day, sun was out, wind was mellow & warm.  I was in a green world of tall bushy trees, which smelled fresh & happy.  I took of my shoes & tied them to a high branch in the sunlight so they’d dry out a bit.  My bag always doubled as a resting pad, even if it was filled with tools, cans & paper. When you’re really exhausted anything seems like a bed. So I stretched out, I knew there was no way anyone would walk up on me. I feel unless it’s kids, people don’t really hike around areas like this.

 

 I locate my herb jar…an old mint tin. Inside is just enough left for one last joint.  It was lovely… not the best herb, but enough to make my time in the brush a little better.  Of course, soon as I smoked it, I felt the energy to get on the move again. This is something I do a lot, get ready to relax, than I don’t. Herb makes me relax while doing things...like dishes, painting, or walking. Plus I was now a little irie and thinking about the cop I’d passed a little bit earlier. Stupid paranoia; I mean, someone could’ve seen me walk into the woods, than called the police. What would happen to me if they walked up on me lounging in their woods? Not good, so I stretched & hit the road. I knew it was for the best, I didn’t need to be sitting where I was all day. If night came, I’d be stuck in a pretty busy area. I always tried to be in an unpopulated area by night fall…this was a great idea in theory. In reality, it didn’t always pan-out as so.  Some nights I found myself walking until sunrise, tryn’ to find a place to sleep.  Walking in a place you don’t know, at hours where most are lost in a dream, can be very surreal. I reach a point where I am half asleep, and half awake.  Mindful walking, my thoughts seem to connect with everything around me. In the middle of the night life seems to be quiet, but everything becomes loud. You hear every step, every animal around you, even the wind seems to become amplified. Life is very much alive at night, we just become lost in our electricity. When we turn things off at night, life becomes pure again.  It’s silly to me, how much we don’t turn off. I walked by hundreds of shops with at least half their lights remained on all night… We leave so much on all the time for little more than appearance.  All just amazing amounts of waste in the name of glamour.  When I lived in Saint Louis, I remember street lights above street lights…what is the point of that? As if it was such a bad neighborhood, that even street lights needed more lighting.  Americans complain about lack of this & that, always something not good enough, yet Americans waste soooooooooo much of everything. If America was half conscious of the life style they lived, things would be much better off.  I don’t understand why we can’t just turn technology off more than we do at night.  Why do we feel it’s important to have a set of lights on in every shop at night, just for the sake of keeping something pretty?  Oh well, I guess it’s all part of my overstanding of the world around me.

Back to the road: I feel it was around 2:00pm or so. I had just smoked a little herb, and relaxed for about 45 minutes. Now it was time for me to head back onto the road. I had been eating trail mix & drinking water/orange juice for the past week or so. My bag weighed at least 50lbs, along with a little side bag & a skateboard.  So I was traveling with a nice load on my back. The bag I had wasn’t very nice, right from the start I had to constantly adjust the straps so the weight was balanced on my shoulders.  The bag was very bulky, with a metal support “thing”. I didn’t like it. I know I could’ve made better choices on what to bring, but it was my first trip like this so naturally I “could’ve” done many things different.

The road was nice; this day of skateboarding was fun. Where I was the road had been on a steady down-hill path. It was a new road; the pavement was fresh & smooth. I had plenty of room along the side of the road, so I didn’t have to think much about the cars. This makes things a lot more fun for the skater. I try to not ever worry about cars; it’s a little mindfulness of being alive for me.

 

 I feel like this was the time when I ended up on a road that came to a dead end in the middle of a suburb. I remember being on this road all day, so when it ended like it did, I was kinda put off by this. I found myself tryn’ to figure out what to do. Left or Right?? I crossed the street & sat down on some mulch, under a big bush. Soccer mom’s drove by & looked at me like I just escaped from prison. Must have been a small town, I knew I stood out. I sat for about ten minute’s thinkn’ about my options.  The air was perfect, the ground was warm. It felt good to sit. I couldn’t relax much, as my mind was thinkn’ about being on the move… the longer I sat, the quicker I want to sleep. Moments after I was rolln’ down the road. I am a little fuzzy on what happened around that time…

 

This led me out to a busy road, so I followed the cars away from the shrubs & mini vans. Like a line drawn in chalk, the landscape changed dramatically. What was fine homes & evenly colored lawns; became crumbling bricks & dented cars lining a little filled street. All that was open was small bars & auto shops. By meow it was around 3:00pm, and by then I begin thinkn’ about how long until a patch of woods to sleep in for the night. I had no map & from looking around all I could see was more development. So I skated on into the afternoon.

 

  ****                                Part Five

 

The sound of cars rushing by was drowned out by constant wind racing through the tree tops around me. Tall Pines surround the horizon, and one big interstate sliced through this massive forest. The long board is under my sack, as to not show that I have any way to move faster than walking. Ways of physiologically based ideas flowed through my brain when I stand, thumbs extended, and posture presentable, alongside the ‘on ramp’. As to my surprise, a few police drove by me without any question as to the laws of hitch hiking. This, at first, was kinda scary. After the third car, I felt like I was okay to proceed with said ‘thumb extended standing’. I did so with confident thoughts.

 

   Little Blue car, piloted by an old man. Several papers, empty bottles & socks lay around his little blue car. On top of the car was a little sky-view window. The essence of pipe tobacco surrounded my smell of a dirty hiker. “If you want a ride, I am going to Canada now.” He pulled the pipe to his lap & began to repack it, signaling me to take a moment to choose. With a smile, I said yes. The engine stopped & thus began the packing of my stuff into his even smaller little trunk. We introduced the names which we are labeled as & took off down the interstate. Few words needed to be said, as we both enjoyed the wind being the main auditory entertainment for the next hour or so. I learned that Frank was heading to Canada with the goal of buying a new little blue car. He was looking specifically for a car which displayed Kilometers, as opposed to the American standard of Miles per hour, on the speed meter. Frank was Canadian & Frank worked in America. It was a weekly routine for Frank to drive into the States for work, and drive back to the land of the Mounties at the end of his labor filled weeks. As he spoke, I found it hard at times to understand his words. He would start to mumble in my direction with no real aim of making sure I understood. It was kinda nice, I didn’t need to feel bad for dozing in and out of vivid day dreams. We drove out of the seemingly endless forest, into a vast networking of farms. It was early in the season for corn, so all the fields had little vegetation at that point. What the fields did produce was a strong smell of cow manure. We stopped at a small gas station which felt like it was smack dab right in the middle of all the farms. As the bell jingled from my confident opening of the sticker filled door, a wonderful wall of cool air embraced my entire being. I had on me little cash, so I went for the one thing I knew I wanted: one half gallon of concentrated Orange Juice. I had nothing to eat, but the juice was exactly what I needed at the time. Frank filled up his little blue car, and we again sped off down the road. After an hour or two of driving, talking, and daydreaming, we came to the Canadian border.  He told me to not say anything, if asked, about my aimless wondering. He noted that if questioned, I was going to stay at his house for two days, get a small tour of his town, then return on Monday into America. Our stories matched…the car crawled down the row, right up to the window. The American side was quick. With a flash of our ID’s, we pulled away into the limbo like bubble was the gap between the two Border booths. The Canadian Border Security Representative leaned out slowly & asked for identification.  We both handed what we had to show. Then the usual quick questions shot to us via lifeless eyes & numb voices.  “Why are you here? What are you going to be doing? Do you know anyone in Canada? When will you be leaving?” Frank said all the words we’d thought of sayn’ in this situation. And to my surprise, we did not get a smile followed by “Enjoy Canada” Instead, the officer asked us to pull into a side parking lot. We pulled in & after a minute or two; another officer walked out to the car, and asked for Frank to now pull into a garage. At this point I knew that we about to be searched for some security screening. An officer walked into the garage, where we had been sitting next to the little blue car. One by one every item I had with me was held up, turned & inspected by the official glare stare-down method. “What is this screw driver for? What would you need all these tools for? Why the skateboard? Why do you have canned food?  What was the screw driver for again? So why are you here? You think it’s safe to just trust people? How much money do you have? So these tools are only used to maintain your skateboard?”  The questions stopped suddenly & as the officer walked away, he told me I could put my things back in the bag. Now it was time for Frank to explain his actions to men with guns. They looked through his car, pulling out nothing & asking stupid questions. He had a couple hundred dollars for the purchase of the new car. The officers asked if I had asked him to hold any money or bags. In my head I thought of a couple funny puns, but I only said “no”. I knew all they wanted was to harass us about being too cool for typical paranoia of killers, strangers & all the other bull that we are so carefully trained to fear. It wasn’t so bad, Frank was cool & was having fun for being locked in a garage. His car became a target for a search for anything they didn’t want us to have. The money was apparently for drugs… On and on with the questions, leaving the room, returning for a new round of the same questions slightly reworded in an attempt to catch us in a lie. Unfortunately for them, we had nothing to hide; Just a couple of dudes enjoying life.  The officers told us to drive over to their building & come inside. I was taken to a counter & was asked to present my identification. They gave me a speech about trusting strangers & that Frank was someone not to be trusted. They also told me cause I had no money, that I was not welcome in Canada. I was a threat to their Welfare system if I just stayed in the country without saying anything. So they let us go. Frank was nice enough to drive me out of the border and into Buffalo, NY. The sun was now setting, the sky glowed a fantastic orange. Frank was still going into Canada, so I told him to let me out along the exit ramps. We laughed, said our goodbyes, and I took one picture of his face. Off into the orange abyss went Frank & his recently molested little blue car. What a day…

 

  Okay, now it’s getting dark. I am nowhere close to some woods, or a field, or anywhere I can sleep without being seen. Buffalo was a city, filled with noise, cars & construction. I stood on the ramp for about an hour to see if I could get picked up. My theory about this is that you ask for a ride in a city or crowed areas, people will assume that your destination is not ‘that’ far away…so they drive right by. If you are in the country, on a long lonely road, people will see that any populated area is far off & will feel that much more obligated to help out. On this evening, I was not so lucky. By this time I was sleepy. Dealing with the Government was a drain on my sanity. I could see a Mall close by, I thought perhaps I could sleep in a bush or something. I walked over & scanned the parking lot. Nothing… I did a couple laps inside the building, just to see what was what. I went to the bathroom & cleaned my face, feet & pits. When I got back outside a security guard drove up. He was cool. “We see you inside wandering around, where you from?” I told him I was stranded here & I was looking for a bush to sleep in. He was okay with the idea, than left me alone. Ten minutes later he came back & told me that he’s getting bugged from the people watching via TV screen & had to tell me to leave. I was polite, but inside I was so sleepy & just wanted to scream. I didn’t know where I was, I didn’t know where to go at this point. When I reached the end of the parking lot I kinda just looked from left to right, scanning the world for options. I spotted a truck stop. Without thinking, I just walked right over. The place was quiet. Outside was one bench with a coffee can filled with butts. I looked for the longest butt, picked it out & lit it up. I knew I was safe here, at least for a minute or two. My bag was on the ground, my shoulders temporarily freed of my weight. I was really hungry, but had no money at all. I had a pocket of my sack where trail mix spilled along my travels, so this made due for my meal. I had to figure something out, but I really had to figure out where to sleep. After returning the now shorter butt to the can, I went inside to inspect my ‘options’. What I found was a small theater room which played a channel of local news. The room was dark, and had about 20 little theater style seats in it. I grabbed my stuff, snuck into the room & passed out cold.

 

  I woke. At first I’d forgotten where I was. It could have been midnight or 4:00pm, all I could see was darkness & one big screen. Alas, the stale smell reminded me of my location. Soon as I started to function, my back reminded me of the chair I just slept in…painful. The news spoke of a Tiger which walked off his land into a New York neighborhood & was shot by a single officer 60 times. This meant the officer shot 7 rounds, reloaded & repeat. The Tiger was ‘owned’ by some guy who played Tarzan in a 70’s TV show. The camera displayed the man’s horrible loss of a friend. He cried out against the officer, sayn’ the Tiger was causing no threat. “Why didn’t you wait for me; why didn’t you wait for a tranquilizer!?” The man cried. Of course the officer didn’t have to answer to why he brutally destroyed such an amazing creature. And just like that, the viewers were taken into a happier distraction about things worth buying, 100% guaranteed to improve your quality of life. With that on my mind, along with a sensation of urination; I got up & headed for the door. I didn’t notice until the Sun reached my retina’s that both doors to the outside world had been tinted as to relax the sleepy truckers who wander around the property like prisoners waiting to get their call. At least I slept; how long I wasn’t sure. The sun was a morning sun.

 

  The sounds of lighters flickn’, the word ‘yut’ and the rumble of diesel engines became the soundtrack of my day. I chatted with folk, asked simple questions & shared smokes. The topic of “vaporizing” deer when they hit them at full speed came up from more than one trucker. Sadly most of the drivers couldn’t let me ride along due to insurance & lawyers. “If you want to find a ride, you got to ask someone not driving a logo cab. That means they own their own truck & get paid to pull trailers”. Most people treated me nice enough. A couple dudes sat in their truck & called on the radio to see if I could get a ride. Nothing came of it. Then rain came of it…lots of rain. I couldn’t leave meow, I had to wait. So back inside I went, right back to the dark room, with the little metal-framed chair. My bags lay on the floor next to me, tryn’ to stay out of sight as best I could. The smell of food constantly teased my senses, but I was too worried to ask about earning anything. I felt if they said no, they’d know that I was in the building without any money. In America if you got no money, than you are nothing. So I stayed quiet & sat through my hunger.

 

 It rained all day. I sat inside, watching mindless news…shifting my weight tryn’ to figure out the best way to sit; there was none. After that became numbing, I would go outside to see what the sky was thinking. On that day it was just dark grey & full of water. By now the day was rounding its end & I was going to have to sleep here again. Not too many people wanted to talk about rides when the rain was pouring like it was. It’s bad enough that the drivers were so tired, but to add a rainy day to the mix just made everyone that much more detached. The few peanuts I had left became my dinner. I felt if I ate one nut every 20 minutes, that I’d be slightly nourished for one last night in the Truck Stop. Back to the chairs, into the darkness I sat. Sleeping wasn’t easy, it only was accomplished when my head was too worn out to think about how uncomfortable the situation was. I thought about sleepn’ in the woods, and how nice the ground felt. After a while, I passed out.

 

When I woke next, I jumped up thinkn’ I’d missed something important. I checked the sky & it was looking much better for me to travel. It looked as though it had stopped raining within the hour. I made sure my stuff was ready to go, but I wanted to try to get a ride out of the city. So I chilled on the bench outside the building. After a little while, I was approached by a trucker. He asked if I was good at lifting, and if I wanted some work for a couple days. He told me he had to check in with his company, but if I was asked, I knew him already. This helped so I wouldn’t look like a stranger to whoever controlled his fate on the other side of the phone. I waited, he talked. All I could think about was getting the hell out of where I was. He talked… I waited. When he came back to me, I was ready to work. But he had to say no, talkn’ about how his boss knew I wasn’t his friend. He offered a smoke, which I accepted, than he was off. Thinkn’ about having to walk away, I lit the smoke & mentally prepared myself for the day.

 

 “You lookn’ for a ride?” A voice said. I turned around and a middle aged man was leaning out the door. “Yes, that would be a big help” I spoke. “ Well I got room for ‘ya. I’ll be going down the coast for two weeks & if ‘ya want you can help out making me coffee.” We had a deal. He then told me to hang tight as he did whatever it was inside the truck stop. So after about another 20 minutes, he came back. We loaded up my things & began our departure from the city. Matt was from Florida. He’d been truckn’ for a few years now. The first thing he handed me was a pack of Marlboro Reds. I didn’t really want a pack, but since I was now in his bubble, I just went along with the ‘ride’. Within the next week I must have taken a week off my life via Reds. This guy always had three things going: Air Conditioning, A cigarette, & coffee. In the cabin of his truck, there was a little coffee maker. The truck was an apartment style cab. It had one bed which lifted up to reveal storage for mine & his belongings. On either side of the bed was who cubbies/shelving units. One of the cubbies was a mini refrigerator. My job was to make him coffee, so he didn’t have to stop at all unless for sleeping.  At first this was a challenging task. As the truck flew down the interstate, I tried hard not to fly around his cab. Luckily for me, I’d grown up on a skateboard so I saw the situation as a game. My first batch of coffee was a 70% clean task. At this point I still hadn’t eaten anything other than old peanuts for two days. I knew I needed something more than that soon. When that first drop of coffee hit the glass, it was like a brick of hunger sensation to the face. I felt like I was going to pass out. The pot was now full, time for the final task: Filling his mug without spilling on my skin. Nice and slow…steady now…bump! Ahh s**t, all over my shoes. Matt laughed as he noticed my first attempt at room service. I handed him his mug, and pour myself a mug of the coffee. After loading it with stimulants, I made it back to my seat. Right away I burned my tongue on the coffee. This happens from time to time… I know it’s hot, I just poured it & I’m inside of a giant moving truck. Still, I go for a sip right away. The coffee was boring, watery & lacking character. The only thing it wasn’t lacking was lots of sugar.  Though to the driver, who was not at all drinking coffee for its flavor, found it to be just what he “needed” to keep motivated. It was a nice ride thus far, he didn’t talk too much. I like that in people. For the next few hours we just smoked cigarettes, drank coffee & watched the road. If I hadn’t been so cold from the air conditioner, I would’ve passed out right away. Instead the temperature was on my mind, I was thinkn’ when he’d turn it off. Turns out he never turned it off. All I needed was food or sleep, and I couldn’t sleep. At times I’d start to pass out, then in the back of my head I’d think of how to get warmer…not happening. I’m not the type to ask that the cold be turned off. I am in his territory, and I’m here for the adventure. So I’d sip more coffee, and spark more smokes. Every now and then Matt would ask I another question about life. Nothing would turn into a full conversation, and yet it wasn’t an issue.

 That night we pulled over down the street from a drop off point, the truck stayed on all night just to run the ‘AC’. I was a little worried about the night & sleepn’ in his truck. I hadn’t known his guy for more than a day, so I was thinkn’ of all the ways I could be murdered, or worse, by him. I made space between the two front seats. My hoodie was now my pillow & a couple shirts my blanket. My legs wrapped around the giant gear shifter. I also thought of kicking it in my sleep & making the truck roll down the road into a tree or something. So for the night I kept waking up & checking my feet. The truck was so very cold, so this was also keeping me from sleeping for more than an hour at a time. The driver was nice enough, he told me that he always sleeps in the nude. So if I had any problem with that I could sleep outside. I felt that he wasn’t a creep, so I didn’t care. So on and on the night went, kind of a rhythm of waking up to check my feet. Waking up to rotate in an attempt to find a warm zone, this did not happen. Needless to say, I didn’t really sleep too well. A few times I’d wake up, not sure of the time or year. I would be stiff, cold & hungry. Spark a smoke, stare out at the sky. It had now been almost three days since I’d eaten a real meal. And for the last twelve hours I’d consumed coffee, water and tobacco… yeah, well life is short.

 

 The next morning I made us coffee. We both had a cup & sat in the field next to us, smoking our smokes. When we hit the road, I made my way into the back of the truck and fell fast asleep. I didn’t want him to know I was exhausted, but I must have slept for like three hours. It was a challenge at first to sleep, with the momentum of the truck, I had to figure out the right style to sleep so I wouldn’t find myself flyn’ out of the bed. So I figured out to curl up fetus style…wrap one arm under the mattress and make it so my knees faced the front of the truck. That way if he slammed the breaks (which I think he did for fun a couple times) I wouldn’t roll off, my legs acted like a brace. So take notes all those who feel they may be sleepn’ in a semi-truck. You never know…

 I was now rested, but still hungry. I joined Matt up front & lit up a smoke & started more coffee. He told me that we’d be stopping soon to get some food. Since I hate asking for things, I never mentioned that I hadn’t eaten anything in a while. I just drank a lot of coffee to suppress that pain. It was now day four and I was out of any snacks. When we stopped I washed in the gas station sink: hands, feet, face, pits. This didn’t really matter cause my clothing hadn’t been washed for around a month. It wasn’t long before we were back on the road, these days were spent in his truck. I spent the day looking out the window at life. Matt purchased me a grinder (Or sandwich for people outside New England), just what I needed. I ate this as slowly as I could, I didn’t know when I’d get food again. For the next few hours I was lost in a world of passing cars, buildings, and road. So many people on the road at any given time. I thought of the size of the truck I was in. The resources it took to make & take to run such a machine. I thought of how this truck brings Matt a life of work, yet making the truck was likely just a day in the life of a human at an assembly line. I didn’t know or ask what we had in the back, hmm. I now question why  never thought of it. The experience of being in the (Then) now, living with someone in a very small & moving object without any plan of tomorrow is something that left me without any room to question little things like what cold be in the truck. For all I know, he could’ve been trafficking stolen Dolphins…Perhaps part of the underground Walnut black market. I say that due to a news report I heard talkn’ about how people stole Ten Million dollars in Walnuts…that’s right. Took the trucks and all; right from the factory over the night. Reporters asked the owner of the factory about the strange theft, and they took it quite well. “I don’t know what they’d even do with that many Walnuts. You can’t sell them to markets fast enough without doing big business”.  Such  news reports reminds me that Humans are in fact a unique and “special” creature. Look at the rambling, good gosh! 

Hitting a deer in the truck was quite the experience. Well, I didn’t see much; just the deer poppn’out into the road, close enough that we only saw it for a split second. No sound, the truck didn’t skip a beat; it just turned the once whole being into a liquid splatter.  I later saw that the deer had covered the lower half of the grill & under belly of the truck with blood & fur. I was a little confused at first, but Matt told me not to worry. We just kept on truckn’… That was the only large being we hit. I can’t tell you the number of insect beings we must have destroyed, so that we can have whatever object was within the back in a convenient matter.  I thought of the deer for a while, thinkn’ of where it may have been going. I thought of I own death, the endless ways it could happen at any time. It’s nice to think of at the right time. For me it reminds I-Self to only be conscious and work to live in the present. I must focus on doing what I can do best to help the Unity of our minds & lives. Thus when Death comes, I will only greet It with a smile.

With an hour of mindful thinking, I turned to Matt and let him know I was happy to be part of his path. He too was happy I was there, he knew us meeting was only going to be a positive part of his life. He said he’s never really met someone like me; and when he was my age, he & his friends only thought about beer, girls or trouble. I hear this from people who are ahead of I by twenty years or more. I’m not sayn’ I don’t think of girls and trouble, but I don’t let desires or ego lead I path. I’ve learned early on the pain a life of such blindness can bring from the endless examples I got from the adults around I.

 Later that night Matt started to look around for food. After about a mile of ideas, he pulled into a parking lot. He told me about the buffets in the south.  A white building which looked like a model of “grandma’s” house sat in the back of the lot. The engine purred to an end. I got out of the cab & looked for the deer remains. There wasn’t much... my imagination saw much more than reality had to share. So in an instant, the deer was no longer a thought. Now I was interested in the smells that took over my head. The place was nice, a perfect diner style interior. We walked up to the long food bar which curved along in a smooth bend. The plate was warm like the employees sat on them like birds on an egg.  This was amazing to me. In Vermont, there are no giant buffets. This was like being in big belly heaven. I was now looking down at everything from a basic salad, to full lobsters, steak cooked to your liking, many dishes of pasta, Chinese style food & a smorgasbord of deserts. The aroma of the almost one hundred options was so intense, I only grabbed one plate & was full with that. Matt went on for another plus ice cream; and while said mastication was in motion, I thought of the science of this place. Perhaps each dish is made to over stimulate the mind so that you just don’t want to really eat that much; even if your goal in going to a buffet in the first place was to eat a large mass of different food. I often think of ways capitalism could work the mindless into giving away money for illusions. Now it was time for me to release a little waste. Next to the bathroom door was a pay phone. It hit me, I should call my mother. So on my second pass, I put in the quarters. I picture the house where the phone on the wall would ring. If a phone sat in one place on a wall for say 40 years, putting out the same frequency which would send that sound wave into the same spot on said wall…got it? Could the sound waves then change the integrity of the wall on a small scale? Like the earthquake machine. My call was answered, and it was my mother. I don’t like phones much, so I kept things short & sweet. She was happy to hear where I was, and that I was safe. I told her I just ate dinner & what my “mission” was for the moment. Being a pay phone, I was cut short before I knew it. Our belly’s full we got back to the truck and onto the road. For the rest of the night we sat, but only one of us had to pay attention to the world around them. I was happy that it wasn’t me…               

                                      Part Six

 

 It felt as if we were flyn’ in a space ship. I was now el Captains second hand man, at the controls. And by controls, I mean a Mr. Coffee. The dash was more a wall full of buttons, switches, small lights that glowed ever so softly in a gold tone. I could feel the power it took for to move at such speeds, yet within our bubble all we could hear only a soft hum of the air conditioner. The road became a blur; the headlights gave us a slight warning of what was ahead. Seems funny to think about, when hitting a deer left little marks on our immortal feeling ship. As a child I often pictured a large truck driving along the side of the road & smashing through everything in its path. When that became boring I could think of someone on a dirt bike chasing us. It was nice to know my childhood was not dead, for there I was again thinking of all the things we could now smash through.

 

   Matt was sleepy, I knew this cause he’d turn on the radio when he was tired. He often listened to classic rock or country. The world became a blur when inside this beast of a machine. We listened as other truckers chatted on the radio, all the strange people who drove. Matt told me about a man who once flew past his truck on a motorcycle around 120mph in the middle of the night. The bike was in the left lane, and ahead of the bike was another trailer. This trailer was not only hiding in the dark of the night, but also had no lights on in the back. The biker without having time to react, slammed into the back of the semi-truck in front of him. Both trucks stopped, Matt call him via radio. As he ran out onto the road, he saw blood printed onto the back of the truck where his face & body became on with the back door. The biker lay on the ground, broken and mangled. He recalled the man moving after a moment, drunk on adrenaline. With the little life he had in him, he crawled onto his elbows in an attempt to raise his head. “Is my bike okay?” he asked, coughing out blood. “Is my bike okay?” Matt told him is bike was fine. The biker smiled, took a deep breath & dropped dead right there. His bike which lay in pieces scattered along the road for a hundred feet at least. There was no one around, except for the two truck drivers & the warm lifeless body on the pavement. Om.

 

   The tails of the trucker life was entertaining. I told him how a book of these tails would be fun to read. He told me of truckers racing in the middle of the night. Imagine being in one of these trucks traveling at 100mph. The night passed on with tales of trucker folklore. The light sound of the radio balanced with the air being blown in kept the mood mellow. We had been driving all night and the world again, was just a blur. I didn’t know where we were, or what direction we were traveling. This was okay with me, for I felt a comfort in not being in control of thy path. I just relaxed, high up in my thrown, in our spaceship; flyn’ down the dark & empty interstate.

 

It was early morning when we pulled into a large warehouse. Matt backed up the truck to a dock, than got out. I sat inside for about 20 minutes while he did whatever it was he had to do. I looked through my stuff, checking what I had. My bags sat under his bed for a few days now. When I opened the clothing bag, I realized that my sweat had begun to mold. The gassy smell hit me like a brick to the face. I wanted nothing to do with what I smelled. I just shoved it all back in & closed the bed. I needed to find a place to wash them. Matt came back, we pulled out & headed back onto the road. We had started in New York, now we unloaded in South Carolina. Matt was ready to drive straight up to New York again. He was motivated to get things done. I was amazed at how many miles this guy could drive in one sitting. 

 

     ******

 

Matt had the night off, so he wanted to sleep in a “real” bed. So on his dollar, we found a hotel for the night. While he figured out the room it was my job to spend $40 at the KFC across the way. I wasn’t too excited to eat that crap, but it kinda changed when I walked in the door. Something about the south and how fat the people are, even the KFC was a buffet. The whole wall was a metal contraption of fake food designed to smell like something your body “needed”. I thought about how much was here, and how this was only one shop. I’m sure there was another like one mile down the road. Millions of chicken murdered like the jews of WWII so that “free” Americans can treat food like toys. Our lack of a relationship with anything but our desires is why kids today are labled with s**t like ‘ADD or ADHD’. In reality, this should be called ‘Nature Deficit Disorder’. Yet we just write the youth off as troubled, fill their minds & bodies with whatever pill the government hands out & watch as they’re grown into drug addicts, criminals or just poor people. What a set up for our prison driven society. America has only 5% of the world population, yet we house 40% of the world’s prison population. So I got three big boxes & filled them to the brim with food. 

 

  Back at the hotel, Matt was layn’ around watchn’ TV. He picked up around 20 beers & was half way into his third bottle. I walked in, arms filled with greasy food. And for the next half hour, we gorged our faces with all of those products. Being on the road & tryn’ to embrace the lives of those whom I was traveling with, I didn’t say anything about my practices of conscious eating, non-alcohol or mindless television. Instead I took it all in. It only took a couple beers before I noticed the buzz taking over my usual balanced self. We sat around watching cop shows for a while. I was thinkn’ about the food & beer in my system. Both of which do not settle well with me. My eyes hurt from looking at the box, so I gathered my senses and headed outside for a smoke. I felt as if I was walking through water as a strong wind was tryn’ to blow me around. My depth perception was on leave, instead I was relying on what my eyes translated as the ground. I was happy, the night was warm. A young man walked up to me, askn’ if I wanted any herbs. It’s funny how many times this happens to me, strangers asking to sell or acquire the holy herb. I always feel happy when people do so. I told him I had nothing to give him in trade, and that I was hitch hiking around. He was impressed and a little confused about how someone still does that. Knowing he had no opportunity for making any money, he politely walked away.  I finished my smoke, found a can to put it in, and wandered back inside. Matt was on the bed, flippn’ through the channels. We came across Def Jam Poetry on HBO. He watched for a minute, then asked if I was into it. I told him how spoken word was my first step into spreading the conscious message. He’d never watched or listened to this, so he put down the remote & tuned in. For the next hour, we sat listening to the words of the people. I’ll never forget watching DMX walk out on stage, the last person I thought I’d ever see on that show. I knew him as tool he was on MTV, exploiting Queens, talkn’ s**t & making guns look cool. On this night, I was able to hear what his heart really had to say.  And for the five minutes he was talkn’, I felt connected. It was good to see that he was still human, and despite the crap he produced for the machine, he still had something positive to say. Matt asked if I could share anything with him. How could I say no after all he’d done for me at this point, so I spoke:

 

Poets play with words to keep themselves sane

While others using bullets to point their blame.

On & On it goes, eye for an eye,

This is the excuse we use to justify?

Now ya’ll can’t tell ‘ya night from day,

Cause ya’ll sacrificed ‘ya precious vision for corrupt politicians.

Fast cars, movie stars, retreating for comfort in bars.

Easy woman, and guns for fun; slowly & blindly we’ve become undone.

States & Countries, they all just a brand,

Just another way to keep lines drawn in the sand.

It’s more than we, it’s not just about us, so hit dem brakes I want off of this bus.

I look at she as he looks at me & we are all just one nationality:

It’s Earth, there is no “land of the free”, and we are all stuck in this rut of no morality.

And like a cop, ya’ll tend to snoop around, tryn’ to bring another lonely soul on down.

But my feet rest in the same sand that left the first tracks of what we call a “man”.

We are only children of this sweet mother earth, so why ya’ll tryn’ to make life not even worth:

Living proud & singing loud on this Land of the Weed, can’t ya’ll put the guns down & just try to be?

Be One, One with each other, why ya’ll tryn’ to kill one another

 ‘Ya know we’re only here until we die, so can’t we put the guns down and just try;

 to be One.

 

He sat for a moment, looking into the void. When he came too, he told me how powerful it was for his life. He reached over, pulled out two beers, cracked them open & said “cheers”. “I hope to see you in the future gettn’ your word out”. He turned the TV back on & for the rest of the night, he watched movies. I was sleepy, the beer & food slowed my system way down. I could tell that Matt was a regular taker of such a diet, but I was not. I felt dirty as if the food was oozing out my skin, tryn’ to escape. So I felt it was a good time for a shower. First in…oh I dunno, a month. It’s funny how I didn’t even think about a shower until late into the night. Most people in my place would’ve ran right into it as soon as the option of a shower was available...I guess I’m just a dirty, dirty boy.  The water was as hot as I could get it. I often sit in the shower, directly under the water in lotus position. I meditate as the water hits the top of my head & finds its way down my locks and various paths around my skin. I breathe deep, thinking of another stress or expectation to let go of with each exhale. Being a Hotel, I don’t have to worry about sharing the water; so I lose myself within the element. This is one of my favorite places to be. In an attempt to clean my clothing, I washed my socks in the shower with me. I knew despite how clean I became, I’d have to put on my stinky clothing when I got out. For now, that was in the back of my thoughts.

 

 

                                Part Seven

  After the long shower, I returned to the main room & made a nest on the floor. In my life time I’d spent more nights in hotels on the floor than in the bed. This was due to traveling with my large family as a youth to Chicago for holidays. So I didn’t even think about sharing the bed. I didn’t mind the floor. Matt had some movie on, but he was passed out at that point. I just rolled over and drifted away.

 

 The next day was spent on the road. Left over KCF was our breakfast, washed down with cigarettes & water. The day was simple, nothing big to unfold or explain just driving & small talk. I spent the next two weeks with Matt and his truck. Life became a routine; I slept in the morning on the bed after a night of rolling around between the seats. I never could get over the fear of kicking the gear shifter & still had yet to hit the thing at all…

One day we had to stop at a weigh station. I had always thought about these as I drove by them growing up; thinking about what our car full of the family weighed. Matt told me it might be illegal to have me in the truck, so I hid in the back out of sight, inside the bed. For a second I was a little paranoid about getting busted. Nothing happened, it really was uneventful. I crawled out of the trunk

 

One day we got my clothing washed at a truck stop, it was Sunday and the first thing I noticed was a church semi-truck in the parking lot. The trailer was a rolling church and they’d drive around from truck stop to truck stop. The truck stop was like a small mall. This place was equipped with a full buffet, shopping, an Arcade, and there were movies to watch inside their very own theater room. What I needed was a laundry room. Moldy salt ridden clothing made for quite the face of disgust when Matt opened his bed and smelled my stank.  Anyways, the morning was nice. I drank some coffee & looked around as he did what he needed. It wasn’t long after we were back on the road again. Looking out the window for hours became my meditation; I didn’t even hear the engine anymore. The land we drove through was amazing. The mountains of West Virginia were vast and something I’d never seen before. We drove along a road that dropped off hundreds of feet veering straight down to a vast forest. The town which scattered throughout the forest, from this height, looked like scares. Run offs lay every mile or so, which allowed out of control vehicles to drive up a path cut out of the mountain into a pile of sand. I was thinking how fun it would be to just test one out. Time went on as we became lost within the life of the truck; Coffee & Daydreams.

 

                 *****           

 

The day came where I was going to be dropped off. I’d spent two weeks with Matt driving up and down the east coast. It was a great bond, and at the same time I still felt like a stranger. Knowing from day one that he could kick me out at any time kept me a little distant for some reason. By this time I was out of my rhythm of walking around & finding places to sleep or eat. We pulled in a place, maybe in Mass. Before we got out, he spent a few minutes talkn’ to other truckers askn’ if I could get a ride. No one really was down for it. So we filled up the truck, and he gave me the receipt for a free shower. If they spent like $50 or more on gas, they’d get a free shower which was set up in the station. We went upstairs and found a hallway of showers. You had to slide the receipt into a feed & the door would unlock. You were free to shower as long as you wanted, just no leaving the room. The door would lock again once you walked out. So one more shower for me, and then I unpacked my pack and skateboard. We said our goodbyes and before ‘ya knew it he was lost in the world. I spent a while at the station. First I just sat down outside the building on my board and rolled a smoke. I noticed a lot of trucks with Nascar trailers, so I asked about it. There was a race in the state & all the trucks had the race cars inside. If I cared about that “sport” I would’ve asked to see some, but I don’t. I watched the different faces & people who lived in the trucks. One trucker came up to me and asked if I wanted a ride. He looked Hispanic, wore a pink bandana & talked with a lisp. I felt a little strange for some instinctual reason, so I said I was okay. He was driving out to Arizona and said I couldn’t go along. I didn’t want to risk being stuck in a desert. I had never been to the southwest, but I knew nothing about surviving in that terrain. My first offer I denied, not what I wanted to be doing. My gut has not let me down, so I don’t question I-self. People watching is fun, so I lost track of time while checkn’ out the folks. I only counted a couple female truckers. I noticed a bunch of young drivers, some chatted with me. Most of them mentioned how they can’t smoke herb while working for the truck companies. Although they could drink every night if they wanted, yet if any trace of the Holy Herb in their urine, it would be the end of their job. I learned about their pay, most getting $.30 per mile. It was funny to me how I didn’t ask Matt that the whole time I was with him. That was part of why I liked the ride, just being quiet with a stranger & just being in the moment. Not many people looked anywhere but the ground, and no smiles. In Vermont, everyone looks at you & smiles. Others walked around like zombies, burnt out from being on the road. I ended up with a little money after dwelling on my hunger. I sold my camera to a driver for 50 bucks. I went inside to another truck stop buffet. It was a mix of the classic American fun food: Chinese, Fried meat, a little Italian and some salads. 

 

 After eating, I sat around for a bit more. I was handed another ticket for a shower, but I never used it. I ended up gettn’ a ride with a couple who lived in a truck that was filled with garbage. I sat in the back on their bed, which was the only spot not covered in the mess. It wasn’t a look ride; I ended up at another stop about two hours away. I felt I was going to have another mess getting on the road. Luckily, a young crew working for Mayflower moving offered a ride in exchange for help. They were headed to a city in Mass. By the time we got to the city, it was dark. The trailer was double high, so as we got deeper into the city, the truck felt smaller and smaller. The drivers were on a mission, looking for a house of college kids on a small street. All the houses looked the same. We rolled around slowly, all eyes on the street signs. This was fun for me, ‘ya know, cause it felt as if we became a big inconvenience on those driving behind us.  I liked watching how the common folk reacted to such situations. Such activity was a big part of my life at a younger me. Once the street was spotted, the truck squeezed down the lane. The trailer seemed that it was going to get tangled in the power lines. We took up the whole street, so the cars which became stuck behind us quickly learned they weren’t going anywhere. To some people, honking without end is the only way to describe how they feel. Personally, the sound of horns, alarms & clocks drive my mind crazy. So when after ten seconds of the honking, I walked out into the road & began to mime to the people that they are idiots. One older man stepped out and yelled to me how he was going to use his trusty police service to make us move. Some people just have no ability adjusting to situations they do not control. So one call away, a parole car pulled up on the other side of the truck. The officer approached us with a calm stride. We told him what we had to do, and that we would only be here for as little time as possible. He was okay with that. So he walked around the truck; and told the people to wait or turn around. The college dudes came out and as a team, we moved out all their stuff. Couches, TV’s, Bags, Chairs, a fridge, some boxes, bed frames came out with ease. A couple of their chairs challenged us a bit, tryn’ to get into the new door frame. In the end, it was a fun task. The kids were cool, and smoked a joint with me after I was done. The driver was eager to leave, so I only took a little & ran back into the truck. I was paid $60 for helping out, and was dropped off about a mile or two down the road. By this time, it was 2:00am or so. I feel now that I was let out in Lowell, MA. I recently drove through the area and I really felt that I’d been there before… so I’m thinkn’ it was that same city. As I was saying: I said my thanks for the ride, and for the work. I loaded up and they left. Across the street was a taxi. I thought about the area, and if the driver ever had any walkers out at this time. I wasn’t even sure of the day of the week. I didn’t have to do anything and the driver came up to me. The window rolled down, inside was a comfy taxi driver. For the sake of the story, I feel like calling him Jack. Jack said he’d give me a ride for a while for free. I took the offer and got in the back. I love taxis and I’ve never been in one outside Chicago. So I was in a great mood about getting a free ride. I was taken outside the city. I was so sleepy from the day, so I was thankful but not looking for a long chat about this and that. I didn’t was any time looking for a place to sleep. I found refuge in a small patch of pines along a main street. It was late, so nobody was driving. This made it easier for me to feel comfortable to crash. My skateboard became my bed, my bag my pillow. It didn’t take long for me to start another trip into the dream world. Sleeping is amazing! It’s funny how people long to hallucinate when we do it naturally for at least 5 hours a night.

 

When I woke, the day was in full swing. From my perspective, the cars near me sounded like a river. I looked at the sky for a while, letting myself to wake up slowly. I felt something on my leg, so I looked. I was covered in Ants. They had crawled all over me during the night. I can’t blame them, I must have been warm. Still, I was freaked out; so I jumped up to remove the little creatures. I gathered myself & than my things. It was time to skate for another day. Down the street was gas station, so I looked for a phone to call home again. My mother picked up again & told me she would be in Keene, NH that afternoon. If I could make it there from Nashua, NH I could then ride back. If not, what’s a couple more hours at that point? I took the challenge and began to ride. It was still early in the morning; therefore I wasn’t really in a big hurry. The road was well made, so I was ready for a day of skating after a couple weeks of sitting. I loaded up my bag & started to roll down the road nice & easy. The weather was nice & warm, and I felt well rested for the day. Nothing really happened that day, just try & picture 5 hours of skateboarding at about 10 mph. Stopping to run  into the bush, keep skating. Stop to adjust my backpack straps, skate on. I stopped to try and spend my last couple dollars for a lunch. This doesn’t really buy you anything, so I ended up with crap food. I sat behind the super market, in the shade of the stores shrubs. I thought I’d be able to ride until the end, but my feet started to burn. I was familiar with this sensation, and it never got any easier to deal with. The sun was hot already, and my mind was tired of all the movement of the last few weeks. This last stretch of road was already weighing on me.  My snack was just enough for me & and after a few minutes in the shade, I was ready to get moving again. I could never really sit for too long. Even if my thoughts were to sit for an hour and drift away, I always would sit for maybe 5 minutes before I felt antsy. I like the pain of my burning muscles, I like feel tired and still pushing myself to skate more. I didn’t need to be awake to skate, just balance & push. Many nights of my life had been spent skating back to my dwelling in a zombie like state of mind. I knew the roads of my town so well, I could sense when the next crack in the road would be. I did not live in a city, so most roads after the sun went down, would be very dark. Trusting yourself & the flow of the universe is what skateboarding at night taught me. It was always a place I could relax & think… even if I was exhausted from the physical aspect of skateboarding.  It was time for me to get moving, If I sat for much longer it would be harder for me to get up. Workers from within the store had made their way out to the area where I was sitting, for a smoke or whatever. I can tell when I’m in a town where everyone knows everyone; so when I show up and sit under some bush behind the local shopping center, I look like an “outsider” or a dirty a*s hippie.  I save the last bit of the snack I had for later consumption & I walk to the road leading west toward Keene, NH. The sound of my long board wheels smashing to the ground is always something I like. I pull the bag up onto I shoulders and step on the board with one good push off the hot tar. It was smooth sailn’ for the next ten miles or so. I was following some highway in NH that connected to Vermont.  Today’s ride was wonderful. Most of this road had been remodeled recently & felt very nice under my big wheels. Everything I’d learned, seen, felt was still new to I path. While riding on a nice road, it’s effortless to reflect on Life & Time; whatever the two may be. I had been thinkn’ about Matt, what he’ll be doing in ten years. What he would be doing if he had a month off. He was very quiet, yet was not shy to laugh at the right time. A life of driving an incredible machine; floating around the country.  Bringing one thing to the next.  At this point in I life, I have been blessed to overstand the world around I. Give Thanks. Endurance keeps I moving, rooted deep within the fire that drives I on I path. Give Praises for the weather on this last day. It was a perfect day to skate.

It was then the backpack could not hold my weight any longer. I felt lifted as I rode, and without time to think, the bag hit the ground as I sped along down the road. I still had the spine strapped to I shoulders. I jumped off the deck into the grass overgrown along the highway.  Little metal rings which held the bag to the spine had bent open. I looked only for a moment before thinking about what I had on me to replace the lost rings. The sun was nice and hot. I was tryn’ not to sit as not to let the need for sleep set in. I opened up the smaller outside pockets on I bag first; thinkn’ they’d be the place to look for odd random items…nothing. Well perhaps I grabbed some zip-ties from something…nope. Rope? No.  I didn’t know what to do. So I took the string from one shoe. One foot is always on the board, so I don’t really need to have the shoe super tight. I cut the lace into smaller pieces & began to fix, I hope, the backpack. IF that doesn’t work, I’m leaving it for someone to find. There was no need for such leaving of stuff. The shoe lace worked like a…well a shoe lace. I tied it and it held. Back to the road, it was nice have had to stop on the top of a long but shallow grade hill. One push and I coasted along for at least the next ten minutes. This feeling is one of my favorites in life. Different than a bike or in car; standing on one small piece of wood is pretty cool. I feel it as an extension of I body. I can ride without effort. I feel I stumble more when I walk than I do riding on the skateboard.

As I rode along, a car pulled up a few feet ahead. It was a NH plate, a station wagon. I slowed a little and rolled up to the passenger’s window.  “Hey, looks like you’re on a long trip. This road doesn’t get anywhere for a long while. So I figured I’d see if you wanted a ride…” Seemed like a chill dude, so I took the kind offer. I sat in the front, and It was a nice change. “You got the time brother?” I asked. “It’s about 3:00pm”. I’d been skating for a good chunk already.  I must have started the day around 7:00am..I usually wake up around then or earlier if I sleep on the ground; Plus the Ant wake "up got me going in a rush. So the I was doing pretty good. I had made it a little past the half way mark between Nashua and Keene, NH.  This guy (Tom) was on his way home from work. And he was heading right to Keene, so it worked out quite well. He told I of the seventies, being here & there, living in New England. I shared that he was likely to be that interaction on I trip, and he was honored to be in I final chapter. I then insisted that I chill out & he turned on some music. I looked out the window at the passing Earth. I love to catch things with I eyes, and try to make it look like they’re standing still for the spit second you’re driving by. This always leads to I battling to not pass out. I sleep so well in cars, funny. I must have been in them a lot as a young I.

I woke up to see familiar sights. Shops, streets, and mountains I knew. I was in Keene. Tom asked where I needed to go. So we pulled into a plaza I’d been to as youth. The sun was still awake, but the day was a little past it’s peak. I Give I Thanks for the love, and Tom wished I the best. With that, I sat in the parking lot. After a smoke, I called I mother (From a Pay Phone) to let her know I’d made it to the “city”. I knew her path, so running into her wouldn’t be an issue. I trip was done, just like that. I couldn’t even think of what just happened. I was just in the moment, able to feel tired. Ready for a shower. Ready to challenge I mind, body & passions in life forIever in the Name of OneLove. This I work. I sat in the plaza, small among the large commercial buildings and endless amounts of pavement which held all of this weight above the savage dirt trapped below.

 

 

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