The alarms went off as planned, and we were coffeed- up & on the road by 5:30 am headed down US-287 (that damn road again!) toward Hugo, Kit Carson, the Sand Creek Massacre site, and Oklahoma. I had a twinge of missed- opportunity as we passed the turn- off to Sand Creek; it's a place I have wanted to visit since I first read about it. You REALLY should Google it, but I'll help you out: Sand Creek Massacre. The first part of the day was a bit difficult. Our turn- off/ go- east point was Boise City, OK which, I quickly noticed, is VERY close to NE New Mexico. The second guessing began, and didn't cease. I saw that I could hop out of the truck and probably be to I-25 near Springer or Clayton within a few
hours, or the next day. “Home free-- for free“ I thought. I attributed much of this mental ping- pong to the fact that I was exhausted. I may be a grizzled, salty, skanky- smelling road- dog, but getting up at 5am still sucks! I decided to sleep a bit more as we passed through the rest of Colorado, to see if it would pass with a bit more rest. I slept for about an hour, and awoke just before we passed from Colorado into the Oklahoma panhandle. The sleep helped a bit; not much. I began looking more closely at the map plotting how long, and through what sort of terrain, I would have to hitch to get to I-25. Then, again, I thought back to California. The Marin County Epiphany where I sat on the hill overlooking the Golden Gate Bridge and the San Francisco Bay/ skyline while fighting the impulse to return home, then coming to the realization that I would not have sacrificed ANY of the experiences to date, and if I stopped then I would be doing EXACTLY that. I was proven right, time and time again, through the rest of California, Oregon and Idaho. These thoughts, along with the realization that summer is quickly coming to an end and that I would have PLENTY of time to work come October, kept me in Ken’s truck. They kept me in the truck, but did NOT stop the second guessing.
The drive through the Okalahoma panhandle, on US-64, US-270 and ultimately I-40, toward Oklahoma City was quiet. I was consumed by my own self- absorption, and we were mostly kept company by Ken’s Sirius radio. I grew weary of hearing some retarded song that repeated over and over again “I kissed a girl and I liked it… hope my boyfriend don’t mind it…”
Shakespeare. Pure fucking Shakespeare.
The last real test for me on the way to Nashville was just west of Oklahoma City when we stopped at a gas station that doubled as a Greyhound station. I asked the older- guy behind the counter to fire up his dial- up and get me a price to Albuquerque. $89. Nope… not spending that when I could have spent $59 from Denver.
“Hey, dumbass! Remember San Francisco!” I got back in the truck, and forgot about returning to New Mexico.
I had sent an email off the night before to a guy I had worked with at a radio station in St. Joseph, MI in 2003. He now lives in Ft. Smith, Arkansas which is on the Okalahoma border. Ken was planning on stopping for the night there, so I thought I’d have a little fun. Corey has always been one of those types of ‘friends’ that irritate me. Especially the ‘radio friends’ Flighty. They remain just enough of a ‘friend’ to keep the ‘networking‘- channels open (never burn bridges, Todd!) in case they need work sometime and you would be in a position to help further their descent into Hell. Usually, when they find out I’m no longer in radio and how I despise seeing them whore themselves out, they disappear. With Corey, there was no real ‘disappearing’ to do. I hadn’t talked to him in at least 4- years, and I knew exactly how this was going to go. He had called me while we were in Boise City, and we did the generic ‘whatcya dooin now’ stuff while he complained about his latest radio- gig, and I told him I was ‘done’ with radio- while trying to avoid the ranting for which I seem to have become famous.
I told him we’d be in Ft. Smith, and to call if he wanted to get together to catch up. I knew full well I wouldn’t hear boo from Corey, joked with Ken about it, and we proceeded on. We both laughed quite hard later that night when Ken said “Hey… you never heard from your boy!”
Oklahoma City was as boring as ever, although we did pass Tinker Air Force Base which has an old Air Force One on display next to I-40. I was happy about the
fact that I was actually traveling a stretch of Heartland Highway I had yet to see: I-40 between Oklahoma City and West Memphis, AR which includes Bill Clinton‘s personal harem: Little Rock. (woohoo!)Little Rock would have to wait until Thursday however, as difficult as dealing with THAT anticipation was.
We finished off Oklahoma, and stopped at a T/A just before the state line, got showered, parked the truck, and set off to find something at least resembling food.
We found a little diner called the “4 Star Diner”, which wasn't, and featured a seemingly cracked- out redneck waitress. ENTIRELY too much freakishly- energetic southern hospitality oozing from this middle- age woman! Ken’s pork chop sucked, although I thoroughly enjoyed my greasy
mushroom- swiss burger. From the ‘Four Star’, it was off to the Cherokee Casino next door where we spent $3 to win $1.75. Funny how that works; glad I’m not a gambler.
I wrote in the journal trying to process the mental- turbulence from earlier in the day, and got to bed. Ken planned to leave a bit later on Thursday, so we would get to sleep in a bit. He’s a madman I tell you!
