...continued....

After eating biscuits and gravy at a T&A Travel Center Cafe, I hit the road again.

I drove through desert..........
.........I drove through El Paso. It looked like the ghetto of Puerto Rico, with colorful dirty little box houses. I drove and didn't stop, since everyone told me specifically not to stop in El Paso. I kept going, and going and going. I got gas in Van Horn, where Aurelea had suggested I stop. It was a quaint little Texan town miles from anywhere, with bare earth mountains on one side and desert stretching out the other side. I saw a biker getting gas. I thought about following the signs to some caverns north of there, but I wasn't in the mood. I was too broke to have too much fun, and if I wasted time, I'd have to pay to spend the night someplace. Better just get back on the road.

Texas is huge.

Driving through western Texas felt like running on a treadmill in a parched, empty valley. For 400 miles. At first there were mountain ranges in the distance, and I could chart my slow progression with the changing angles. Then there was nothing. And more nothing. My eyes started to close at about 2 p.m., and I pulled over onto the side of the road and fell asleep.

I was awoken by a young trucker. "Excuse me ma'am, I'm sorry to bother you but your headlights are on." Oh shit. I started the truck to make sure the battery was still good, and in a daze I got back on the highway, my gas tank on empty.

O please let there be a gas station soon. O please o please o please.

I pulled into the first exit of a town called Ozona, and wandered down the little road til I found a Chevron. I pulled in and had started pumping my gas, then I turned around and saw a biker parked behind me. The same biker.

"Where in California?" He asked me.

"Mendocino County..." I began to explain. He had just come from Vacaville, where his wife lives.

"So," he began. "Have you met any good people on your trip?"

I told him I hadn't really had any interactions with anybody so far.

"Well start talking! I had a three hour conversation at a truck stop yesterday with a total stranger. It set me behind schedule, but it was worth it."

We stood there in the shade of the awning and shared stories for twenty minutes, surprised we had been on the same road but hadn't seen each other the whole time.

I got back in the truck and drove down the main street of Ozona, which I've decided I like. It had that dusty pioneer town feel, and original brick architecture. But I had to keep moving. If I stopped anywhere I was sure to spend money. So it was back on the road, and I was aiming for Austin this time, just 200 miles away.

I think I actually gasped when I saw a patch of lush green grass, and saw flowing water again.
I got off the I-10 and onto the little Texan highway 290 that leads directly into Austin. I got gas (again) in a charming little town called Harper. The sun was setting, casting rich pink light on everything, and I passed by a pasture of longhorn cows, a little antique store, and a little church. This was the Texas I was hoping to see. Nothing but sweet charm and cowboys.
I got to Austin pretty late, and a humid fog had set in, though the temperature was in the 60's. I got lost trying to find a hotel and going the wrong way down one way streets, til I finally called Anna and had her look up a hostel. A bed cost 25 bucks, but I was too tired and sore to keep going, and there was no place safe enough to sleep in my truck. The hostel looked almost identical to every one I've stayed at in Europe. Everyone was nice, if indifferent. I kept to my self and woke up early to get back on the road. Maybe I was the indifferent one. I just wanted to keep going.

Once I'd left the city I started to kick myself. I could have explored. I could have enjoyed myself. Dammit! I'm not turning around! But the next cute little town I come to I'm stopping at, and that's final.

The town of Giddings presented itself as a likely candidate, and I parked my truck outside Whistlestop Antiques and walked the block to the nearest restaurant in a chilly wind. I got a cup of coffee and a peach cobbler, and tipped the sweet enthusiastic waitress. Then I gave in, and walked into the antique shop. I bought an apron and set of yellow, blue, and red enameled pans. Satisfied, I got back in my truck, and kept going.

Eastern Texas was far more beautiful. More frequently than anything were antique shops, firework stands, and strip clubs.

I drove across the Louisiana border that evening, and decided to spend an early night at the KOA in Lafayette. I would make a head start on the city of New Orleans first thing in the morning.

O my back hurt. I got back in the seat of my truck for one last long haul. Not too long, fortunately. I ate at a Waffle House outside of Baton Rouge, and crossed the enormous Mississippi, and there I was. Here I am. Driving into the city I was going to call home (at least for a little while). Drove through the French Quarter and into the Bywater neighborhood where I parked my truck in front of Casey and Christine's little yellow house.

The end.

More later, I promise.

Across America in 3.5 Days

I suppose I kinda rushed it.

Sunday morning I left San Diego and my beloved homegirl Anna, speeding down Highway 8 in the direction of my freedom. I almost started crying again. Here's the hardest part, I thought to myself. Leaving California and all my best friends, and driving until I can't drive any longer.

The night before we had stayed up late drinking Rex Goliath and smoking hookah, so my endurance was below par. I drove through the south east of California, where the mountains are just messy piles of rocks. It looks as if someone forgot the dirt and trees. Poor naked mountains, I thought. I drove through western Arizona, where there are golden sand dunes like cremated mountains, and you can see the big black fence that's being built between us and Mexico. Then I'm stopped in traffic at the first of several border patrol stations. "Are you an American Citizen?" "Is this your vehicle?" "Is there anyone else in the vehicle?"

I talked to a biker at a gas station the next day, and he said that the border police officer had looked at him with a straight face and asked "Is there anyone else in your vehicle?"

I got to Tucson in on Sunday evening and fell asleep in the parking lot of a Chevron, in the front seat of my truck. When I woke up three hours later I decided to keep driving, since staying at a KOA costs 35 bucks, and I wasn't really tired anymore. There was no moon, and I drove through eastern Arizona and almost all the way through New Mexico. I slept that night at a rest stop near Las Crucas, and awoke to a chilly morning with beautiful snow-capped mountains in front of me, and the sun just rising.

...to be continued....

One Last Day in California

I'm sitting on Anna's couch in La Jolla, San Diego, listening to the blessed rain fall and waiting for my tea water to boil.

Mmmmm...vanilla chai.

As of today I've been gone 2 weeks. It seems like more, for all the places I've slept and meals I've shared with people. My friend once said that if you had a totally new experience every day of your life, time would seem as long as it did in childhood. Maybe he's right.

When I stop to think about it, my heart is torn between a longing for my friends and family, my winding Greenfield roads, and my peaceful mornings on the mountain, and pure excitement for my own mysterious future. With the encouragement of my sweet family, who've given me so much freedom to find myself and be myself, I'm not afraid to leave home. I'm just a little melancholy. Someone told me before I left, "don't worry if you're a little depressed for the first 3 weeks." Of course, I imagined my first three weeks in a new city, surrounded by strangers. In actuality, it's been the first few weeks of my trip, as I tried to muster up the energy to reconnect with old friends and be a good houseguest. Thank god for the compassion of my friends, who incorporated me into their busy lives and still gave me time to nap. I would not have gotten this far without all the naps.

I'm spending one last day in California. Tomorrow I plan on waking early. Tomorrow I head East. I'm going to find where the sun rises, for I've seen it set from the ridge above Jenn's house for as long as I can remember. I'm going East, to eat chicken and waffles and feel the fabled humidity. I'm going to watch the thundering skies and try not to think "WILDFIRE!" I'm going to have an adventure, and not to experience the drastic culture shock of a foreign nation, but for the subtle, sweet, and salty culture shock available right here at home.

Yeah, I miss Mendo. But the farther I get away from home, more I realize:

I ain't coming back in a hurry.

The First Leg

...of a three legged dog.

I just cracked a bottle of Anchor Steam and I'm sitting down in the chilly kitchen of my friends' San Francisco apartment, on the first leg of my adventure from my charming and harmless hometown of Ukiah to the depths of the South and the city of New Orleans.

Yes, I'm moving there for (fate permitting) the next six months.

No, I've never been there before.

Why? Food, music, cheap rent, experience.

Isn't it dangerous? Hell, thats the price you pay for culture.

I had just set my roots back down into my childhood home on Greenfield, and this last Saturday I wrenched them out of the ground, saying salty goodbyes to my family with tears streaming uncontrollably. I drank my last week away with all my greatest friends, fell in love one last time, and hit the road. Sobbing, of course. The great thing about crying is the release, and I am left feeling longing but not pain.

So far, nothing has not gone according to plan. Nothing is flowing smoothly. I figure it's me, as much as it's the world around me. I realized what I was craving: I wanted everyone to stop what they were doing and prioritize my grand arrival. Um. With less than a day's notice. I realized as well that I was being rediculous, and did my best to sit down, shut up and enjoy the ride.

I don't expect many people to actually read this. It's more of a place for me to store my thoughts, as much as a forum to share them with you. i will say I have sincerely appreciated all the support, advice, and warnings from everyone I've talked to. I promise to keep my head on straight. I promise to be smart, aware, and above all SAFE. I have learned a lot about myself in the last few years, and I'm striving to remain open to adventure while being appropriately cautious. Don't worry about me. For your sake. I'm a part-time daredevil and I'm coming home alive.

Love,

J

Leaving

I'm leaving soon, my beautiful twisting roads. I'll miss your blind curves. I'll miss another frozen Mendo winter, curling up on dark nights next to the fire. I'll miss my family on another inevitably stressful Christmas morning. I'll miss my friends.

But wish me luck. I'm going adventuring!