A collection of short but intense events that covers a span of over 30 years in a multitude of countries and exotic locals. Tales of reckless abandon, sexual hijinks, consuming mass quantities of almost every drug know to man and all the while having a hell of a lot of big time fun. Read about San Francisco and the bay areas hippie scene from the mid 60's to the late 70's, or Mexico from the mid 70's to the late 80's, or Southeast Asia and India from the early 80's to the mid 90's. Or the Southwestern desert right here in the good old USA where we ran wild naked and free from the late 70's to the late 90's partying our stoned asses off, fringe dwellers all.
A RIDE WITH AN ANGEL
I've been hitchhiking for three years now pretty much non-stop. I've been in almost every state in the Union including Alaska and Hawaii. I hitched through Mexico though I spoke no Spanish at the beginning, down to Acapulco and back up the Baja. I hitched in BC up in Canada and I would have done more but the chicken shit Canuk cops caught me in Vancouver with a roach then deported my ass telling me never to return to Canada again. I've even hitched Europe through France and Germany and northern Greece, but the good old US of A is still my favorite.
The people here are not only the most generous but the most fun and interesting too. Almost every one has a story to tell and I believe them all. After all, it doesn't cost me a penny. In the three years I've met a lot of weirdoes but have never had a bad experience. I've been dirt poor too, working for Manpower a few times a week busting my ass for $10 a day in cash, but I ain't complaining. It's been a good life. A free life. Mostly I just go where the rides take me. They stop and ask, "Where ya goin’?"
"Where ever you are." I answer.
Although I do try to stay out of the north in the winter. Sleeping in the snow even inside of my small tent in a down sleeping bag still sucks big time. But mostly it's been great, like now.
It's early morning, the sun is shinning and the birds are singing. It's autumn so all the leaves are turning. There’s every color on earth in those trees except for blue, and that is provided by the sky.
I'm on a little two lane road somewhere in rural Kentucky and here comes an old rattle trap pick up truck that’s going to stop. I stick out my thumb and it does. I run up to the passenger side and look in.
There's an old black man about 60 wearing a clean white long sleeve shirt and worn blue coveralls. “Where ya goin’, Son?" he asks.
"Where ever you are, Dad." I reply.
He smiles and tells me to get in. I throw my pack in the bed then get in front with him and down the road we go. We chat a while with me doing most of the talking. Some folks pick you to talk, others to listen. He asks me where I've been and what I've seen. I tell him.
Every now and then he'll say, "Now don't that beat all." or, "You don't say."
He asks what I do for money and I tell him that too. He just nods. He knows, he's been there.
He says, "You're looking a mite thin, Son. When was the last time you ate?"
I tell that him last night I had a pint of milk and a bag of peanuts and they should hold me until lunch.
He picks up a small brown bag and hands it to me saying, "That's my lunch. My wife made it for me. There's a boiled egg and a baloney sandwich in there. You take it. You need it more than me."
I tell him no thanks. It's too early for me to eat but he insists. I tell him I don't care for boiled eggs but I will gladly split the sandwich with him.
"That's fine, Son." he says.
I take the sandwich out of the bag, unwrap it and hand him half. We go down the road together eating a piece of baloney with a little yellow mustard slapped between two pieces of Wonder Bread. I sit there thinking that I’d rather be eating this half of sandwich and riding down this road with this man than doing anything else in the whole wide world right now. We ride in silence a little while longer, there is nothing that we need to say. We have taken communion together and are content just to be alive.