Chapter Twenty-Nine - On the Road

My time coming, any day, don't worry about me, no
Been so long I felt this way, I'm in no hurry, no
Rainbows and down that highway where ocean breezes blow
My time coming, voices saying they tell me where to go.
Don't worry about me, nah nah nah, don't worry about me, no
And I'm in no hurry, nah nah nah, I know where to go.
California, preaching on the burning shore
California, Ill be knocking on the golden door
Like an angel, standing in a shaft of light
Rising up to paradise, I know I'm gonna shine.

The Trip

Southbound on old 95 in the warm embrace of an early June night. Joe started off behind the wheel because he was the guy looking for the party in Norfolk when we just turned right and kept on going. Several hours down the road I double checked the map and it looked like we had missed our connection to I-40 West in Raleigh, NC. We got off the road and pulled into an all night grocery/gas station. There were three old coots sitting on the porch and we asked them how to get to where we needed to go. They took one look at we two long-hairs and cackled a bit to each other. Then one of the old farts said "Y'all gots to go North to git thar." Whew! And here we thought we were lost. We navigated through Raleigh in the wee hours and when we got on I-40 I got behind the wheel.

A few hours of driving along the unfamiliar highway took me into the dawn at the Tennessee border. I was approaching Douglas Lake, and the sight almost took my breath away. Patches of fog stuck to the hills, sunlight on the water and what looked like the whole country spread out and waiting for me. The image is still soft on my mind as a sign that I was doing the right thing. We were to find out that although Tennessee is only 30 miles wide, it is an incredible 451 miles long! It took all day to drive through. We wanted to get to California as quickly as we could, mostly so Joe could cuddle up to his girlfriend, Ginger. Reasonable, no? Along the way we passed within shouting distance of Pigeon Forge, a tiny burg that would become Dollywood in later years. And a place where at that very moment a young hula dancer was getting ready for her daily show.

Here we were, two guys rolling down the road without a care in the world and plenty of dope in the glove compartment. We drove and drove and drove, digging the scenery and goofing on each other. I had a foam 8-ball hanging from my rear view mirror and Joe liked to smack it now and then as a rim shot to his jokes. Once he took a swat while he was driving and yanked the wheel, causing us to fishtail a bit before getting back on the groove.

"Yeah, I can just see it now, bro'...'Well see, officer, my cousin thought his joke was pretty funny so he whacked the 8-ball and we lost control and that's why we're in this ditch. The dope? No, that's not ours. It must have been there already...'"

We cruised on, hitting the ball more cautiously.

Onward

Now we came to Mississippi, and across the mighty eponymous river. We rolled over a cantilever bridge and I saw the brown, churning water beneath, moving on to the sea. I was really doing this. The song kept coming back:

Goin' to California with an achin' in my heart...

What was I doing? Fucking crazy. Across Arkansas and into Oklahoma that same day, driving relentlessly and in a pot-induced fog. Finally that night we decided that stopping the car for a few hours of sleep was better than dying in a horrible wreck. We pulled into the lot of a Super 8 Motel in Oklahoma City with more gas in the tank than in ourselves. After a quick meal at the diner we checked out our room. What a true dive this place was. Both beds had several layers of thin comforters and sheets. We guessed that this saved the maids having to change them, as they could just strip off the old ones each day. The bathroom was an adventure in science, with mold on the walls, a huge hole in the ceiling and no glass in the window. But the real treat was the TV's. Plural. There was a big cabinet model on the bottom, then a mid-sized one on top of that, topped by a third, tiny set. The big one was just a stand, didn't work. The one in the middle had a halfway decent picture but no sound, and the one on top had sound but no picture. And none of them had tuning knobs. So we had to use the conveniently provided pair of pliers to change the picture set channels until we saw something interesting, then change the sound set until they matched. Since there were only four stations in town, that didn't take long. We ended up dozing off minutes after hitting the pillow.

Sunday morning broke and after freezing cold showers we were ready to roll. At the diner I had biscuits and gravy for the first time in my life. Oh my God! Where has this delicacy been all my life? Maybe it was just the constant hunger born of marijuana munchies but I was in love with this dish. As I sat sopping up every last drop of this ambrosia a scruffy looking fellow shambled into the place and sat next to me at the counter. The middle aged waitress came over and asked "What you want, hon?"

"Well, m'am, I'm passin' through on my way to my sister's place in Albequerque and I'm pretty low on cash. I just need a little somethin' to keep goin'"

She gave him a quick appraising look and said "I'll get you a short stack, darlin'. Want some juice with that?"

"Yes'm."

I thought about what I'd just seen. Was that guy going to be me in the next few months? I had about $500 in my pocket and no job and no place to stay for long. I resolved right there that I would not screw around like I had in Norfolk. Get a job and get on my feet pronto or end up begging for scraps. Never. Not ever.

What a Blowout!

Now I was the pilot, steering the big land boat across Oklahoma into Texas. We saw gas on sale there for 72 cents a gallon. Hell, milk cost more than that! Joe was dozing at one point as I was approaching a truck rest stop. I was flying along at 70 mph or so and a semi decided to pull onto the highway right in front of me. I locked up the brakes and we went into a full power skid. I held the wheel and got us straight again in time to get around the semi and avoid becoming roadkill. Joe woke up and said "Wuzzat? 'Tsappenin'?"

"It's cool, man. We didn't die and that's real good."

Not far down the road the effects of that skid came back to haunt us. One of my back tires blew out and I guided old Bessie to the shoulder. Joe and I got out and inspected the damage.

"You have a spare?" he asked.

"Yeah, I think so. Never had to use it."

The air was hot and still, not a thing moving for miles around us in the desert wasteland.

"Pretty quiet out here."

"Yeah........too quiet."

The trunk was packed with all our junk so we had to pull it all out to find the tire. I fished it out of the trunk and bounced it on the road, checking it's inflation pressure. We were overjoyed to find that the spare was good and we had tire changing tools available, except for a lug wrench. Looking up the road we saw we had really lucked out. There was a rest stop not more than 100 yards ahead of us, so we could get the tool we needed and change the tire in safety in the parking lot. That's when Joe came up with the Brilliant Plan.

"OK. Let's put all the stuff back in the trunk. Then I'll drive the car to the rest stop and you bring the tire."

"Cool."

We packed it up, he took off and I started rolling the tire along the shoulder in the 150 degree heat. Cars were whipping by, nearly knocking me into the ditch. By the time I got to the rest stop I was dripping with sweat and covered in road grime. Joe had secured a lug wrench from a friendly fellow traveler and was waiting for me.

"Man, why the hell did I have to do that? It's a fucking oven out here and I'm rolling a goddamn tire by the side of the road! Why didn't we both go in the car?"

Joe shrugged. "Seemed like a good idea at the time." True. Should I quit smoking pot? Why? What a stupid thing to think about.

Gettin' There

Our tire troubles behind us, we sailed on into the Southwest. Each mile we traveled brought sights and smells I had never experienced. The mesas of New Mexico and Arizona passed in the distance. Albuquerque had always just been a funny name in a geography book. Now we were speeding through town in an ever more desperate rush to get to California. Weird thing: We didn't see a single cop the whole trip. I know that would have made things more interesting but getting busted in such a remote place was not my idea of fun.

I saw the exit signs for towns I'd heard of in song. Tehachapi, Tucumcari, Tonapah, Winslow and so many others. This trip was turning into a blur of roadside attractions and gas station stops. World's Biggest Steak, Petrified Forest, Meteor Crater, The Friggin' Grand Canyon. But were we going to any of those places? Hell, no! It was California or Bust for these freak brothers. Finally, at about 3AM Pacific Standard Time on June 18, 1979, the old Ford rolled into a gas station in Needles, CA. That Grateful Dead tune was humming away in my head as I pumped the 99 cents per gallon gas, the most I'd ever paid for fuel. A warm desert breeze wafted over me and I had the sensation of being on another planet. I told Joe that I would take the wheel and we cruised into the Mojave.



Sunrise was beautiful in the desert. I watched as each passing minute revealed more of the alien landscape, from the soft blue light of early dawn all the way to full, scorching daylight. Cacti right by the side of the road! Little desert critters scuttling for shelter. A buzzard making lazy circles in the air. Heat shimmering off the road like a mirror from the sky. Little flashing lights and the inner redness of my eyelids.....oops! Time to pull over and let Joe drive. I was dead asleep in seconds. Joe piloted us the rest of the way into Ventura. I occasionally raised my head to see where we were but it all looked like a set from The Rockford Files. I noticed after a while that we were cruising much slower, but the lack of quality sleep on the trip was getting to me. The Ford had a horn ring on the steering wheel that was vibrating in a most annoying way. So annoying, in fact, that I wanted to yank the wheel out of Joe's grip and send us plummeting down a cliff. Sleep at last! Just as I was about to implement my plan, the car stopped. We were there.


Part 30: Livin' on the Wrong Side of the Tracks