Cross-country move, Indians, collisions, and more...
I departed the City of the Damned on Sunday, and stayed at my friend Mike's house in Redondo Beach, before heading out Monday. The heat of the California desert was brutal, and many cars were pulling over on the upward inclines to cool off, including myself. I rarely complain about the weather, so this was a landmark day in temperature hell. Appropriately, there is not much to look at in that desert, not until you reach AZ. That first night, I bought a few beers and stayed at a campground in the AZ desert, playing guitar and chasing off raccoons from my car where the food was.
On Tuesday, I had breakfast at a casino for 3 bucks and played some slots like a good lemming before heading out again. All of the old folks there wanted to know what prompted me to make such a trip, and sent their blessings. I have become adept at saying "it's a long story." I passed by some natural landmarks, the Navajo Reservation, Meteor Crater, Painted Desert, and I did some off-road driving to find some interesting rocks. On my way East, I stopped to explore a horrific abandoned farm. Most ruins, such as abandoned mansions, etc, have an eerie quality to them, but this place had something nauseating about it, like a scene from "The Hills Have Eyes." I had not been so creeped out by a ruin since visiting Wyndcliffe while out of my head one night. I could not find a campground, so I stayed at a cheap, "public"-hair ridden motel in Milan, New Mexico. I think in the night I brushed off at least two bugs, a mosquito and a roach.
The next day, I decided to stay in NM, but at a campground on the east side of the state. On the way, I decided to climb a mesa, and in the process of parking my car, met an American Indian who insisted that I visit after I complete my climb. So I reached the top of the mesa, tried not to be thrown from the 400-foot height by the gale-force winds, and found a strange old stone circle and some pottery shards. I have them in my possession and hope that they are genuine. They have some intricate patterns painted on them. Afterwards, I visited G. Valley, the Indian who let me park at his ranch, with whom I shared a long discussion of shamanism and apocalyptica over a few beers. I have his card, and can visit any time, he says. He gave me a mysterious blessing when I left. BTW, he says that in his tradition, a person who is struck by lightning and survives is born to be a shaman. But a person who begins that path and fails to complete all of the tests will be horribly cursed. He would not reveal all of his people's secrets to a white stranger, but he said he would tell me more should I return.
Waking up at 5am from my NM campground on Thursday, 5/22/08, I realized that I could not do the sleeping on the ground thing forever. Basically, my bed consisted of a shower curtain to block moisture, then a kitchen rug, followed by a towel, and then a blanket. I was really roughing it, and some of the RV-driving types were probably thinking I was insane or homeless. It's sad what passes for camping for some people these days, what with all of the satellite dishes I saw outside of those campers. I firmly believe that if your equipment costs more than a couple day's wages, it's not camping. That day, I passed through Texas, and far into Oklahoma. I really enjoyed TX - these are a people who are often thought of as slow and simple, but there is an undercurrent of wisdom and keen mental acumen there. If you are a snake-oil peddler, this is not the place to market your wares. Plus, women are women, and men are men, at least outside of the cities. I got the sense that I would not be suffering through a performance of the Vagina Monologues there. Oklahoma, however, is a dull place to which I will not be returning.
On Friday 5/23, I passed through OK into Missouri and then IL. Yuck! Illinois had me feeling ill and "annoised." Missouri is just blah. Just a vibe. The one good thing about Missouri was this long, almost abandoned stretch of road, Rt 32, which had a 65mph speed limit and hairpin turns. :) I guess I was feeling daring. Normally I do not espouse forcing a car to do something that it does not want to do, but there is something to be said for "vehicular diplomacy," that is, coaxing a little extra out of your petroleum-grazing steed. It's amazing just what that station wagon is capable of - if only I had one of those shiny new Dodge Chargers that are ubiquitous from coast to coast.
Saturday, 5/24 found me in Kentucky, which is my favorite of all states thusfar on the trip. NM takes second place. I drove on the Interstate through Lexington, and then decided to explore the country a bit. I wound up in Salt Lick, KY, which is a nice, quaint little village with an unfortunate name. Found a beautiful brick fixer-upper there that I liked, and imagined, just for shits and giggles, how I would renovate it. My second piece of property will likely be in Kentucky. I spent the rest of the day there, and camped again.
On Sunday, 5/25, I drove 1000 miles from KY to MA. This was accomplished via naps, hypnosis, willpower, and buckets of caffeine. 18 hours of driving would normally be difficult, but I was eager for the trip to end. There is much for me to do in this town, and I was feeling time passing me by. I did get clipped by a hit and run lunatic on I-95 just north of the George Washington Bridge. I was in the middle lane, driving within the speed limit, fully alert, when suddenly I heard the sound of a racing engine coming up on my right side. I staid my course, figuring he would just pass, but instead I was met with a jarring collision. The impact occurred on the passenger side door, which dented in a good 7-8 inches. I temporarily lost control and almost hit the concrete wall on the left, but thankfully, I regained control and there were no cars in that lane. I was lucky not to be injured. Up ahead, the other car seemed to be pulling over, and as I approached, he took off again at full speed, obviously uninsured, or simply too cowardly to face responsibility. What could I do? I just kept driving, a little pissed, determined to get to Easthampton before the sun came up. I did wish him dead - he deserves it before he kills someone else - and I sent some mind bullets his way. Hopefully his next point of impact will be a telephone pole, and not another person's car.
I arrived in Easthampton at 430am Monday morning, Memorial Day. Slept for two hours in my car in a municipal parking lot. I'll post some pics from the trip later.
Life takes some peculiar turns, doesn't it?
On Tuesday, I had breakfast at a casino for 3 bucks and played some slots like a good lemming before heading out again. All of the old folks there wanted to know what prompted me to make such a trip, and sent their blessings. I have become adept at saying "it's a long story." I passed by some natural landmarks, the Navajo Reservation, Meteor Crater, Painted Desert, and I did some off-road driving to find some interesting rocks. On my way East, I stopped to explore a horrific abandoned farm. Most ruins, such as abandoned mansions, etc, have an eerie quality to them, but this place had something nauseating about it, like a scene from "The Hills Have Eyes." I had not been so creeped out by a ruin since visiting Wyndcliffe while out of my head one night. I could not find a campground, so I stayed at a cheap, "public"-hair ridden motel in Milan, New Mexico. I think in the night I brushed off at least two bugs, a mosquito and a roach.
The next day, I decided to stay in NM, but at a campground on the east side of the state. On the way, I decided to climb a mesa, and in the process of parking my car, met an American Indian who insisted that I visit after I complete my climb. So I reached the top of the mesa, tried not to be thrown from the 400-foot height by the gale-force winds, and found a strange old stone circle and some pottery shards. I have them in my possession and hope that they are genuine. They have some intricate patterns painted on them. Afterwards, I visited G. Valley, the Indian who let me park at his ranch, with whom I shared a long discussion of shamanism and apocalyptica over a few beers. I have his card, and can visit any time, he says. He gave me a mysterious blessing when I left. BTW, he says that in his tradition, a person who is struck by lightning and survives is born to be a shaman. But a person who begins that path and fails to complete all of the tests will be horribly cursed. He would not reveal all of his people's secrets to a white stranger, but he said he would tell me more should I return.
Waking up at 5am from my NM campground on Thursday, 5/22/08, I realized that I could not do the sleeping on the ground thing forever. Basically, my bed consisted of a shower curtain to block moisture, then a kitchen rug, followed by a towel, and then a blanket. I was really roughing it, and some of the RV-driving types were probably thinking I was insane or homeless. It's sad what passes for camping for some people these days, what with all of the satellite dishes I saw outside of those campers. I firmly believe that if your equipment costs more than a couple day's wages, it's not camping. That day, I passed through Texas, and far into Oklahoma. I really enjoyed TX - these are a people who are often thought of as slow and simple, but there is an undercurrent of wisdom and keen mental acumen there. If you are a snake-oil peddler, this is not the place to market your wares. Plus, women are women, and men are men, at least outside of the cities. I got the sense that I would not be suffering through a performance of the Vagina Monologues there. Oklahoma, however, is a dull place to which I will not be returning.
On Friday 5/23, I passed through OK into Missouri and then IL. Yuck! Illinois had me feeling ill and "annoised." Missouri is just blah. Just a vibe. The one good thing about Missouri was this long, almost abandoned stretch of road, Rt 32, which had a 65mph speed limit and hairpin turns. :) I guess I was feeling daring. Normally I do not espouse forcing a car to do something that it does not want to do, but there is something to be said for "vehicular diplomacy," that is, coaxing a little extra out of your petroleum-grazing steed. It's amazing just what that station wagon is capable of - if only I had one of those shiny new Dodge Chargers that are ubiquitous from coast to coast.
Saturday, 5/24 found me in Kentucky, which is my favorite of all states thusfar on the trip. NM takes second place. I drove on the Interstate through Lexington, and then decided to explore the country a bit. I wound up in Salt Lick, KY, which is a nice, quaint little village with an unfortunate name. Found a beautiful brick fixer-upper there that I liked, and imagined, just for shits and giggles, how I would renovate it. My second piece of property will likely be in Kentucky. I spent the rest of the day there, and camped again.
On Sunday, 5/25, I drove 1000 miles from KY to MA. This was accomplished via naps, hypnosis, willpower, and buckets of caffeine. 18 hours of driving would normally be difficult, but I was eager for the trip to end. There is much for me to do in this town, and I was feeling time passing me by. I did get clipped by a hit and run lunatic on I-95 just north of the George Washington Bridge. I was in the middle lane, driving within the speed limit, fully alert, when suddenly I heard the sound of a racing engine coming up on my right side. I staid my course, figuring he would just pass, but instead I was met with a jarring collision. The impact occurred on the passenger side door, which dented in a good 7-8 inches. I temporarily lost control and almost hit the concrete wall on the left, but thankfully, I regained control and there were no cars in that lane. I was lucky not to be injured. Up ahead, the other car seemed to be pulling over, and as I approached, he took off again at full speed, obviously uninsured, or simply too cowardly to face responsibility. What could I do? I just kept driving, a little pissed, determined to get to Easthampton before the sun came up. I did wish him dead - he deserves it before he kills someone else - and I sent some mind bullets his way. Hopefully his next point of impact will be a telephone pole, and not another person's car.
I arrived in Easthampton at 430am Monday morning, Memorial Day. Slept for two hours in my car in a municipal parking lot. I'll post some pics from the trip later.
Life takes some peculiar turns, doesn't it?