4/14: Amarillo- OKC

Chris and I stayed awake quite awhile chatting about his post Monday night, and I was struck by the sense of familiarity I felt about his need to feel like he should entertain his rides. I had dealt with similar notions last summer, particularly with Cesar and Ken... long rides with single individuals... where I felt that I had to earn my keep with witty banter. It's funny how that has just been assimilated into the experience, and that I hadn't really considered it again. The early stages of this trip is going to be an exercise in escaping comfort zones, and redefining acceptable parameters of travel. I had been a bit self absorbed in the sense that while this is familiar to me, it is a new mindset for Chris. Don't worry... the tables will turn; my time to adjust is coming!
I was surprised at how comfortable the bunk was considering it is essentially plywood covered with a down sleeping pad. I awoke a few times due to the unfamiliar sounds and odd dreams that seem to be the norm now, but other than that, slept like a brick.

Devin and Leif were up early Tuesday maintaining the bus while Chris and I slept until noon. The main task for the day was scouring Amarillo for fuel. Collecting veggie oil is a rather tedious, dirty, and apparently sometimes dangerous task. We zeroed in on a strip of restaurants on what I believe was old Route 66. Devin gave us the talking points and soon we were off in teams of two asking about used fryer grease. Ahh, the looks! Everyone we chatted with was receptive however, and after 20 minutes or so, we had a target.

Initially, the manager had told us that we were welcome to the oil, but that the company that picks it up had already done so that very morning. As we were leaving the lot empty handed however, Devin decided to look inside the barrel anyhow and behold! 30- 40 gallons of rather pristine used oil. Leif suggested that we set up shop on a section of dirt behind the parking lot, but Devin decided against that. In the parking lot it was.

It was a sunny, warm, windy north Texas day as we went thru the process of pumping, filtering, and loading the oil into the bus. Most of the work is manual, especially the process of filtering. After it's gathered, they pour the oil into 5- gallon buckets with ordinary cotton tee shirts bungeed across the top to filter the large impurities. The wind made this process particularly messy, with veggie oil collecting on the pavement. Several times I had wondered about that, but figured Devin knew what he was doing and let it go.

The process took a couple hours, and just as we were wrapping up, two stocky cowboy hat wearing men came out of the steak house to ask "just what the fuck we thought we were doing!" He didn't care about Devin using the oil, he was pissed that we were making a mess of his parking lot. And I mean pissed! He threatened to call the sheriff and have the bus "towed the hell right outta here 'cuz this is bullshit! Ya don't do a man's property that way!" I had to admit, he had a point. I tried with some success to reassure him that we would tidy up, while the others quickly gathered our things for what was now the Great Amarillo Escape... in a slow, huge, white 1970's bus...

We took a secondary road thru the rest of Amarillo to stay off the interstate, slowly concluding that the cops had better things to do than chase us down! Once out of Amarillo, we had a good laugh and proceeded to Oklahoma, with Chris and I wondering, still, what the draw was. There was talk of stopping in Norman for the night, but as we approached Oklahoma City we learned that we were instead stopping for the night at a "punk/ collective" house on the north end of the city...

4/13: Amarillo, TX

Devin and Leif picked us up at the Giant shortly after 2, and after an extended stop at Trader Joe's, we were on US-285 toward Clines Corners and I-40. Devin stopped about half way there to get the "veggie" system going, then it was thru Santa Rosa, Tucumcari, and San Jon into Texas.

Devin and Leif are both quite easy going, and fun to be around. Once we got aboard, it seemed from first impressions that all of us would get along well... Devin even used one of my phrases, "liberal bourgoise" almost immediately. That should have meant next to nothing of course, but my primary concern was riding with my favorites: pretentious hippies.

The bus itself is a converted '76 Catholic School bus that has a little kitchen, and four bunks installed in the back. Beats the hell out of riding in a car, even though the top speed MAY be 65! The interesting part will be scavengering Amarillo on Tuesday for vegetable oil, which could take most of the day. The bus runs on both diesel and veggie, with the oil lasting around 300 miles to a tank... for free using nothing but restaurant waste. Makes the hassle worth it.

There was a nice piece of comedy near Amarillo when we thought Leif was being pulled over. We all saw flashing lights behind us, but after 10 minutes sitting on the side of I-40, realized there was no one behind us! That was amusing in and of itself, but as Chris and I were about to deposit processed coffee in the grass, a cop actually showed up thinking we had broken down. We've all heard the stereotypes regarding Texas cops, but let me partially put that to rest. He was quite nice, never ID'd anyone, and was quite interested in the bus.

Leaving Santa Fe was a bit awkward to say the least. Shalain was on her way with her parents to Albuquerque when they dropped us off, and it felt quite odd saying goodbye to her with her parents as an audience. I have no idea whether they know the possible extent of this trip as they have never asked, and I like to avoid the "I'm leaving your daughter here alone because..." discussion. The goodbye could have been a bit better; that is all I am saying!

The actual departure was odd too; both familiar and weird. I had no time before leaving to think myself into a frenzy, and before I really knew it we were dropped off. The fact we were riding off to terra incognita was ordinary to me; Chris and Amtrak were my exits last year. It's a bit different for Chris in having to adjust to this method! I'm quite surprised at how easy I seem to have fallen back into the patterns after nearly eight months, but honestly I never REALLY came completely off the road... mentally.

Tomorrow may bring Oklahoma, and our hosts are talking about a trip to Norman to see some people and just hang out near campus. That suits us quite well since we still seem to be afflicted with "Sooner Curiosity", and we're both making a conscious effort to de- structure ourselves... saying to hell with "plans" (ha!), expectations and schedules. Yeah, I'm anxious to see how that goes too...

8/26 & 8/27 Nashville to Santa Fe

Kim and I were at the bus terminal early… very early… to assure that I would not be shut out due to Greyhound’s notorious policy of overselling, leaving those at the end of the line to wait for the next bus. I threw the pack onto the floor behind the two people who had gotten there before me, chatted with a couple of young women going to Clarksville, and finally boarded the bus when it arrived… an hour and a half late.

The bus went through northern Tennessee, into eastern Kentucky, the extreme southern end of Indiana (Evansville), then thru southern Illinois into St. Louis. I had some graphic memories of the St. Louis terminal from a trip to Asheville a few years ago, and was initially pleased to learn that they had, just the week before, opened a new station. It was nice. Clean. Sterile. Creepy. It resembled something directly out of a futuristic totalitarian- state film! There was a definite presence of over- the- top security, and as I went through only the SECOND security checkpoint I have ever seen (Albuquerque being the other), I remember thinking that this is what I imagine Fascism smells like. Feels like. We were required, once inside, to remain in line and if we whose to smoke we were ordered to completely leave the property, cross the street, and go back through security. I have never understood searching people who have just gotten off another bus, and the attitudes of the Brown Shirts reminded me of something I had seen on “Lockup”. I was seething as I compared today to 10, 15, and 20 years ago. The experience was topped off by a rather poor, dirty, young woman sitting on the floor wailing because the Brown Shirts had told her she was not going allowed on her bus because of something she had “said” to the security thugs. Her kid was crawling all over her wondering what was wrong. By the time I got on the bus I was fuming… barely beneath the surface. In the end the woman did board the bus, but the whole thing reminded me of a totalitarian “run through”. I hope I never set foot in that shithole again.

Of course, the St. Louis- Los Angeles bus was overcrowded. Very overcrowded. I have figured out that one of the benefits of working for the Dirty Dog is access to free rides. I have seen as many as four employees just riding along, in full costume, and this was no exception. There was an employee sitting in the front seat, with the seat next to his empty, while the rest of the bus was filled past capacity, meaning some had to stand. This route passed through Ft. Leonard Wood, MO thus there were GIs on board, and one of these had to either stand or sit on the floor… in uniform. I was still steaming from my Nazi- experience beneath the Gateway Arch, and not in a mood to keep my mouth shut. I began pointing out—loudly—to the people sitting around me that there was a serviceman sitting on the floor, while this employee who was either riding “space available” or working-- getting paid-- was sitting in the front row isolated in a little bubble. The other passengers expressed their displeasure as well, but the employee did not budge. I decided that it was best in this situation to shut up and go to sleep. I was tap-dancing around the edge of trouble… and being bounced off this cattle- car myself.

I slept on and off, and had a very interesting political conversation with a guy from Arkansas. He was returning from his summer job in Pennsylvania to his winter job in Arkansas. He and I agreed on many things and he had noticed the “Big Brother” feel back in St. Louis as well. He had even worked for a carnival for a few weeks, and had some of the same experiences as I. When he got off the bus in Joplin, I was shocked to realize that he was MAYBE 4’9”. He conversed much bigger. Later on I chatted briefly with a South African woman about the non- existent customer service with Greyhound. She pointed out, accurately, that it was due to the monopoly the have on bus- travel. If there were ANY competition, or if Amtrak was closer cost- wise, I would never touch another Greyhound and neither would any of the people I have talked with. It’s pretty pathetic when the occasional driver expresses embarrassment about it, as the driver from Nashville to St. Louis had.

The rest of the ride was as any other. Boring. We got to Oklahoma City shortly before dawn, and then it was on to Amarillo. From Amarillo to Albuquerque I had the privilege of listening to the young man behind tell how insane he is; how he suffers from paranoia, and schizophrenia, and that he had been in jail a “shitload.” And… he liked guns. I chatted with Chris a bit, and finally heard from Ken too. He said that he had lost the charger to his phone, and since my number was in there, had no way to let me know that things had changed. In no way did I believe him but honestly, it did not matter! He had done enough already, and I knew that there was a slight risk in going to Atlanta to meet him. It was a risk/ reward decision, and I lost. I did not like what had happened, but it seemed ludicrous to be mad at him.

As we got closer to Albuquerque, the realization that the trip was essentially over began to set in, and I rather enjoyed the solitary time to reflect on everything that has happened since May. It has been quite a summer, and now the prospects for the winter began to take center stage. Mexico. South America. Getting there.

The bus was close to on- schedule for once and I arrived in Albuquerque shortly after 4:30. Shalain picked me up, and that was that.

We made a b- line for the Albuquerque REI so I could return the shoes, backpack, unused rain fly, and the shoe- inserts they had sold me in San Francisco. As expected, I had attached myself to the shoes and the backpack! We had been through a lot and I hated to see them go, but had long since realized that I did not need a pack that large, and that the shoes were probably overkill.

The lead up to the trip had been maddening in the sense that I could NOT decide on a backpack for the life of me. I had gotten the Gregory at the last minute when I found it at the Denver REI for at about half- price. I began to realize that the old Coleman external- frame pack I already owned would have worked fine. From here on it may serve me better in the sense that it is older, and less flashy; less of a target. The shoes were entirely too expensive, and I already had a pair of German Army surplus boots that were not as fancy (or as comfortable), but had only cost me $15. I decided to see if I could make them work. I was also thrilled to learn that the Santa Fe REI was opening in about 2- weeks meaning NO more driving to Albuquerque for stuff!

Once I got home, I mentally exhaled. I needed some time to process everything, and deal with nagging feelings of disappointment and failure. Todd being Todd. The time in Randleman with the church- folk had been nagging me a bit, and I wanted some time to compartmentalize it.

I remember wondering while in Oregon how this trip would end, and how I would look back on it. Now I know. The next few weeks would be a mixed- bag, and although I hoped that through reflection I would feel that metaphorical “lightning bolt of enlightenment”, I knew better. I was curious to get back to familiar, comfortable surroundings, not only to relax, but to see how I had changed. I enjoy playing the part of the guinea pig.