4/15: E. Oklahoma & Arkansas

After staying up late, it was slow going. Devin, Leif, and Chris made trips back to the house for coffee, to use the bathroom, etc. while I remained at the bus savoring some alone time and taking advantage of the chance to update, and think a bit.

At some point, Devin made his way back to the bus and we finally had a conversation about Chris and I possibly bypassing Nashville all together and continuing on to perhaps DC, Virginia Beach, or even the Delmarva Peninsula. Devin quite honestly doesn't care and seems to enjoy the extra help in securing and loading the veggie oil. Nashville has lost its charm since Kim's roommate backed out on her and neither of us have an urge to navigate its sprawl needlessly and see nothing else drawing us to Tennessee. Why not keep going? Devin still has to decide which route he's taking to Delaware, where he has friends to see, and that will determine much so stay tuned. No matter what, we should be within spitting distance of the Atlantic by Chris's birthday on Monday. Here's to hoping I can finally stick my foot in it, get the damn picture, and tell that residual obsession to go to Hell!

The rest of the day was uneventful outside of the search for veggie oil. We didn't really start looking until 4:00, found none in Oklahoma City, then stopped in Shawnee where we finally had some luck at a Garfield's. Afterwords, Devin stopped at Walmart for supplies while I drug Chris thru a carnival being held in the adjacent parking lot. I was feeling nostalgic for my carnie days of 2008, but thankfully the brisk little stroll thru the midway may have cured that little affliction!

While sitting in the parking lot and munching on freshly purchased Cheerios, Chris and I were approached by a pair of women in an SUV who asked if we were on our way to "Swagstock" in Missouri. My clever reply was "What the hell's Swagstock?" Apparently it's a biker- type gathering held in Salem, MO in the spirit of Sturgis. These two were on their way, and said we looked like the type who'd be going, especially with the bus as a backdrop. "Must be the goatee.", I told myself; never been confused for a biker! Maybe it's my P90X abs and goofy hat? Either way, Chris was on top of things and passed them a website card, and they were off. That triggered a flurry of thought in my head, because that's exactly the type of adventure I'd happily embark upon once I get my sea- legs, so to speak!

Other than conversations on where we may possibly disembark from the bus, and pondering the mental makeup of Chris McCandless, that was about it. We crossed into Arkansas at about 11:30 or so, putting Oklahoma behind us. There is something about that place, and it gets a bad rap. Give it a chance sometime!

Devin got us down the Little Rock bypass before stopping down for the night. I'm contemplating trying to contact a carnie friend while we're here. Tricia was part of that Easter Sunday circle- event in New Orleans last year; the one with my Chickasha buddy that led to my Indian name... have I told you that one yet?

8/14 Ken II: Ft. Smith to Nashville

We were back on the road at about 8:45 after our coffee & hygiene routine. The night before, we had missed that the Cherokee Truck Stop had a full Internet kiosk, complete with full- computers, and charged only $2 per hour. Had we noticed that, things would certainly have turned out differently!

We immediately crossed into Arkansas where of course I tried, and failed, to get my silly little picture. There was nothing of note worth talking about in Arkansas. It was Arkansas. I was again struck by how green every thing is out here. I have grown accustomed to New Mexico and Colorado’s lack of vegetation, and the brown texture to everything… even where it IS ‘green’! Also, the humidity. I am no longer conditioned to deal with higher humidity levels, and as soon as the truck’s windows went down or I stepped outside, it felt damp. This will take some adjusting.

Little Rock came and went. From there it was 150 miles or so to Memphis. I was stationed near Memphis, in Millington, during my brief fling with the Navy eons ago. Memphis triggers funny memories whenever I drive through, and it struck me how long it has actually been since I have lived there! Ugh!

"I’m still only 25... I’m still only 25... I’m STILL ONLY 25!!"

From Memphis it’s 200 miles up I-40 to Nashville. I had called Kim the night before to tell her that I was indeed coming, I was arriving Thursday, and I would call her when we were close enough to know when we would be in the city. I thought Memphis would be that point, but Ken had more time than he originally thought thus he was less stressed about arriving late. I put off the phone call until we were almost IN Nashville where we had stopped at a Petro truck stop which had a shitty little “Quick Skillet” restaurant. “Quick Skillet” is like “Iron Skillet” (my favorite restaurant), but… shitty. No buffet, just a … shitty… salad bar. We decided mid- meal to forego “Quick Skillet” in favor of whatever awaited us at the T/A in Nashville where we were meeting Kim. It was that bad. The two plates from the salad bar wound up costing us $13. We won’t be visiting your neighborhood Petro again, unless they rename "Quick Skillet" "Shitty Skillet".

The "Shitty Skillet"was a quick 20 minutes from the Nashville Sprawl, and after navigating rush hour traffic then hunting down the hidden T/A off I-65 next to the football stadium, we were finally here. The ride from Denver had taken 49- hours.

Ken parked the truck; I called Kim to give her directions, and bought Ken dinner as a token “thank you” for the ride. We chatted about other possible connections, and he again said that anytime we were in proximity, I was welcome to tag along. I told him, again, how appreciative I was for the rides then he actually thanked ME, saying something to the effect that it was nice to have someone intelligent to chat with on the road. The fact that HE was thanking ME for anything astounded me.

We had dinner, and Kim predictably called saying that she too was having trouble finding this poorly- placed T/A with no visible sign! I guided her in, by phone, and for the first time since 1995, I was hanging out with my broadcasting school- pal Kim. I introduced her to Ken, we retrieved my pack from the truck, I said goodbye to Ken, and we were off. Time to see exactly why I am in Nashville. That was a mystery to me; for about 45 minutes. And, oh! how that mystery was solved.

8/13 Ken II: Oklahoma

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!