4/24: Hillsboro, MD

Once I finally got to sleep, I slept well. The night was chilly, and the bivy created lots of condensation, but other than that, it was great.

One of the challenges to the bivy, as well as the new terrain is getting used to strange noises. You learn, I hope, to ignore most of them after awhile. One rather comical moment occurred when I awoke to the feeling of a small animal's feet crawling across my head. In my grogginess, I assumed it was Chris poking around outside, but was startled fully- awake when I realized otherwise. I quickly lifted the flap to see I was staring face- to- face with a fierce, ferocious, ravenous,... pussycat. A pretty one at that. We just sat there for a moment, glaring at each other . I half expected her to say something, but she sauntered off without even saying hello. Wench.

We were up and actually moving around shortly after 10:00. The camp- system is coming together quickly, with each of us falling into our routines both at night, and in the morning. I can find pretty much everything with ease now, and know where everything goes when I'm done. What's past is prologue.

We were packed, fed, out of the woods, and on the road by about 12:30 enjoying another gorgeous day. The plan was to meet up with SR 309, then turn to the south for a meet up with 404.

I had taken my blister- pads off the night before to assess the damage to my left heel, and to let it breathe properly. It is likely the largest blister I've ever had at about the size of a half- dollar. Running short of these pads, however, I re- bandaged it using the old ones and duct tape. A godsend, that duct tape!

I would now like to confirm the rumor: yes, duct tape DOES work as blister tape. However, I would NEVER recommend placing it directly ON the blister itself! Some would say that's common sense... for the record... I did NOT do that!

Considering the condition of my foot, I was feeling quite good, and I could tell that Chris was in his element. His comfort zone. The aire was light, and we were both enjoying being in the middle of nowhere as people mowed their lawns, and just went about their lives in this part of the country I'd normally never see. I do like this about walking and, outside of Hwy. 1, I wish I had done more of it instead of experiencing so much "interstate culture" last year. I was glad now that the cop had turned us around... yet still pissed about the ID check!

It was a few miles to 309, then maybe another four until we finally got to 404. The weather had been in the low 70's, with a nice breeze that picked up as the day progressed. We got some much needed sun, and enjoyed the walk to 404.
At the intersection of 309 and 404 in, what appears to be at least, Hillsboro, we found a little gas station. 404 is the main road from this part of Maryland to the Delaware beaches and, since it's Friday and the weekend forecast is for temps in the mid 80's, ungodly busy. I had to run across the intersection, and that sent my RIGHT heel into the blister- zone. Damn these soft feet! We stopped into the gas station where I got a Coke and pack of cigs (hush!), then we plopped down outside and did our own things for a bit.

At this point, I decided to address these competing philosophies that we have, and knew would become an issue. We had both more or less hoped it would work itself out, but after his experience with Ingrid, and mine with Bruno, I know better than to rely solely on hope. (don't tell Barack) Especially now, after Thursday. I know he's making a great effort to integrate having a travel partner into what he calls "his space", but I was, at that point, having concerns at how successful he was so far. I decided to directly address it, rather than let frustrations fester. The conversation went well, although I believe he tried to gloss over the significance. My struggle is to try to remind him that we're not distance or time- driven, while not allowing myself to go too far in the other direction. I'm not sure this will ever really be resolved; having three major destinations straight ahead makes the avoidance of goal setting, comparisons, and daily expectations nearly impossible. We've both said this will be much easier after we get past Ohio & Michigan. Until then, patience is key... where have I heard that?

We loaded up on water then agreed to get a mile or two out of town, at least across the Tuckahoe River, then scope out places to bivy down. Thinking the Tuckahoe was a mile or two away, we were pleased to cross it after about a quarter mile. Bridge crossing: something we normally don't think about, but this had factored in to much!

We got nearly two miles further down 404 when we found a nice spot, and took advantage of a rare lull on 404 to dart into the woods. After the typical scouting, we found what appeared to be the spot. We began our routines when Chris noticed an abundance of ticks. This quickly brought out the bug spray. Then... I saw a bona fide Black Widow crawling onto my pack, which was leaning against a dead log.

There was quickly one less Black Widow in the world.

I didn't think too much of it, other than lamenting missing getting a pre- execution picture, but while Chris was boiling dinner, I watched another Widow scamper onto my bivy! She too was about to feel Zeus's Hammer when she just stopped, sitting there, eyeballing me. Plotting how to "inflict extreme nausea" on me, I was certain! If I were quick and Eric- smooth, I could get my picture. Then if she sat still, drop the Hammer (shoe) after. She was accommodating on both.

There were now two less Black Widows in the world...

Then another of a large, different variety shortly thereafter...

I hate spiders. Snakes? Fine. Spiders creep me out. Just don't like 'em. I let these three get to me tonight, much to Chris's chagrin I believe! I keep thinking back to that spider den in North Carolina last year, and am imagining sleeping atop a Widow's den.

I let Chris's macho- ass wash dishes, alone, and zipped myself inside to write... and listen to weird noises, surely the sounds of mutant, killer spiders coming from the dead leaves beneath me.

4/23: Blisters & Piggies & Keith

Oh, my.

Thursday was beautiful. Much warmer than expected, and as Chris pointed out, neither of us were moving very fast before noon. I had come to really enjoy our little spot, and was in no rush to leave it for the smell of US-50.

Finally, around three, we guzzled the 5- Hour Energy drinks and started down the road toward SR 404. We knew it was only a few miles down, and not much else. Sometime, we had decided to go mapless and station- to- station, if you will, deciding our next destination after our current one was reached, with Lewes being the end. After cooking the night before and preparing Oatmeal Surprise in the morning, we were quite low on water. The oatmeal consisted of regular oatmeal, with both apple and peach flavored instant added for flavor. We also added honey, and I even threw in a packet of raisins. I had cooked nothing on last year's trip, so the idea of preparing meals is a bit odd for me. I'll "force" myself to live with hot meals, I suppose. The extra water usage was not factored in the day before, so we filtered water from a little stream that ran thru our spot and were on our way.

After a few miles, we spotted a gas station, and decided that fresh water and coffee (despite still buzzing on the 5- hour stuff) was a good idea. What a source of entertainment we turned out to be. I felt a bit like a rockstar. One guy in particular, Keith, was quite eager to be helpful, and kept reminding us that he saw us as badasses. I had to chuckle, as I gave him a cigarette, and Chris gave him $1 for beer. We knew he was working us a bit, but he was fun to talk to. He suggested we camp right there for the night, and I may have when I was traveling last year. The patrons were friendly, as was the staff, and it seemed likely that we'd snatch a ride- with some patience. Chris, however, was antsy. He feels the need to be "getting somewhere" constantly, and honestly, I wanted to try to break from the "happy hitcher" habit. We left Keith and our other new friends behind, and continued down 50. We didn't get far.

After maybe a couple hundred yards, a Maryland state trooper pulled in front to let us know it's not permitted to walk US-50. There was nothing posted... anywhere... at all... indicating this, and since it's a designated bike route, I suppose it's an easy mistake. Had he just turned us around, all would have been happily going about their afternoon. But, no.

Then came the questions. "What you doin'?", "Walkin'? Why ya walkin'?" Then, of course: the search without probable cause: the ID check. I let Chris do the talking, my blood again boiling, as I answered Inspector Gadget's questions in my head: "It's none of your fucking business what I am doing, and I'm walking because I FEEL like walking."

I cannot for the life of me understand the passive nature in which people accept this arbitrary "demand of papers" to prove you're not a criminal. Simply because you choose to travel in a manner different from the "mainstream"? Innocent until proven otherwise, remember? My ass.

I suspect that, despite my grudging cooperation of these arbitrary ID checks, something may come of this. I'm one who preaches "force water thru the pipe, find the crack." One of these weeks, after being on the road for awhile, a cot and free food will sound good. Perhaps I'll lose my ID, forget my "social security" (ID) number, then tell the guy what I think of the fact that he believes "technicalities" merit ignoring probable cause. Then I thought I'd perhaps publicize it in that "liberal media", until I remembered Liberals suddenly don't give a damn about civil liberties. They're now caught up in the Political Chickenhead Dance to the chant of Hope... Change.. Hope... Change.

Wrong rant... sorry... where was I?

Oh, yeah... piggies.

What's more likely to happen is that I'll write their names down, ask which precinct they're from, then give them a blog- card while I mail another to their supervisor. In the meantime, I'll write, rant, and rave whenever it happens. Then hope they fuck with me after reading it. I'll bet the ACLU would eat this plate of piggie- slop right up. That pesky first amendment, and all.

Amerika, I love ya!

After this, I was obviously perturbed. We quickly found ourselves back at the gas station, looking at another road, which we had considered taking before; a nice quiet country road. I wanted to hang at the gas station for a bit, but this was obviously bothering Chris. The need to get another two miles up the road, NOW, was seemingly paramount. Never mind that it was getting late, and we still may be able to get to Delaware tonight with a bit of luck. He appeared to be most displeased with the body of work which his day had produced. Three miles so far. I won't lie, this bothered me for a few minutes but probably had more to do with the cop than Chris. I had known this particular challenge was coming, too.

In the end, I tried to relied on my ability to remember my pre- pig mindset. I took a deep breath, and conceded that he was right: we had both been intrigued by the country setting before, and ultimately had that decision made for us.

It all worked out for the best. I hated walking 50 anyhow, and this Grange Hall Rd. was sparsely traveled, and quite pretty as it took us through Maryland farm country. After a few more miles, we found a decent place to jump into the woods, and found a spot next to a creek about 100 yards off the road just as the sun was setting.

I'm quickly discovering both how spoiled I was last year, being out west, and how LITTLE I like the east. Since I've moved west, I constantly fail to see any reason, other than family, why a person should EVER re- cross the Mississippi! The people are friendlier, leave you the fuck alone, and there is SPACE, combined with the mentality that not every square inch should be "owned". I was spoiled in that sense last year, and am having a bit of a difficult time adjusting to the property lines/ constant proximity to houses. I was on edge knowing that we were likely on someone's property, and that I could actually see their lights. Again, I knew this was coming, and didn't think it would bother me so much.

4/22: Queenstown, MD

The starry night didn't last long. I awoke to the sound of raindrops on the tarp, and the end of the bivy, which was left uncovered. It's waterproof, thank God, but inexperience led me to believe that I'd be adequately protected up top with the tarp overhead, in a lean- to fashion. I had closed the bug netting, but left the gortex unzipped... letting the water, which was accumulating on the tarp & spare bivy beneath me, seep inside. Genius!

One could wonder why Our Hero was carrying two bivies, as that would appear redundant at best, and just special- ed at worst. Heroboy quickly realized this utter foolishness; scrapping his absurd vision of dueling bivies, and pledging to He- Who- Climbs- Trees that his first mission of the day was to find a post office, and dispatch the bivy, Fidel, back to the Land of Enchantment.

The rain was falling nearly all morning, so we took advantage of the excuse to stay in bivy 'til noon. The rain stopped briefly, just long enough to complete the long process of gathering our regurgitated backpack contents, then began falling again on the way to 7/11. I was by then quickly discovering my theme for the first part of the day: annoyance with my short- sighted disorganization. I had gone thru this, briefly, last summer in Santa Barbara and knew that it's temporary, but I still felt like I was competing in the Backpacker Special Olympics. It's always great knowing the source of your greatest frustration is... you.

I had a rather funny rest area moment while at 7/11. A peculiar black guy went out of his way to say hello to me... three times. The last being when he called me over to his SUV. He asked what I was doing, and when I began to tell him, he just began looking me up and down. I was quite offended... I mean, my eyes are UP HERE! I was quite proud of one thing: I was hit on before Chris on this trip... even if it was a guy, and one that sounded like the pedophile senior in Family Guy! "How y'all doin'?"

Once coffeed up, we quickly found the post office, and I commenced executing Fidel's extradition order. It was a bit of a process, because he was still wet, so I took the opportunity to hang him at the post office, on the railing, and organize other things. This of course made us the unexpected spectacle for those counting on just a typical post office "experience". I paid the shipping with coins from my change pouch (it's NOT a fucking purse!), then sold another $5 to the post office. My mail weighed just over four pounds, including some other stuff that suddenly seemed unnecessary. and after the change purge, and factoring in the parcel I mailed Monday, I've shed 10-ish pounds this week. Ten pounds in a backpack= a lot, and the difference is huge.

Marylanders continues to impress with the cordiality; only one obese adolescent has yelled obscenities... and that was of course from a car. People have much more bravado when they're driving by. Then right after, we had an older gentleman talk our ear off outside the post office. My guess is that the Eastern Shore doesn't get a lot of packers.

After the post office, we were off. It was already 3:00, and we were still in Grasonville. We were following route 18, which runs adjacent to US-50, with moderate- light traffic. The weather was hit and miss... threatening rain one minute, sunny the next. Do you suppose that people in Maryland use the "don't like the weather, wait 10- minutes" line, like everyone else?

Queenstown was next, a few miles up. We kept a decent pace, but the expected blister on my left heel was getting progressively worse. By Queenstown, 3 or 4 scant miles away, it was time to apply more adhesive strips, which I was now quickly running out of, to try to stay ahead of the problem.

We were then on US-50 itself, which is a busy divided highway, and by 6:30 we were scouting out places to camp, with my heel barking rather loudly. We'd gone a whopping 6, maybe 7- miles in the three- plus hours we'd walked. Chris didn't complain, but I suspect beneath the surface he was going batshit. He likes to do his 25- per day, and I have been anxious to see how he adjusts to a slower pace over the long term. It drove Bruno to the brink of madness on the abbreviated bike tour! That's always an issue when you travel with someone.

We found a decent place to stealth camp quickly, on a piece of land that appeared to have had a home at some point, but there was no foundation or remains... except for the scattered skeletons of a dog or two, next to which we set up camp.

This setup went much better. Not having rain obviously helped, but we prepared for the possibility anyhow. Chris cooked up a concoction of rice, and Hamburger Helper (sans hamburger, of course), and, since we hadn't really eaten in two days, we devoured it. I had a hard time getting to sleep after that; the surge of energy was impressive!

The night was beautiful, but once I got to sleep, I had a hard time getting, then keeping, comfortable. I even woke up about dawn on the verge of a claustrophobia attack... and I'm not claustrophobic. I may need a wider sleeping bag using a bivy.

4/21: Maryland- On Foot

Bill and Laura's Realtor was to arrive at one, so we decided that, after some Innernets research, we would retire to our friendly DuPont Circle coffee shop for caffeine & calm reflection. After some innovative searching, Chris discovered a bus that would take us all the way from central DC, thru Annapolis, over the Chesapeake Bay Bridge to Kent Island, MD. From there: improvise.

Laura came home from work shortly after much needed showers, so we had a chance to say goodbye with promises to get together if their move to Boston was complete by the time we got there. I never did get to chat with Bill about Africa, unfortunately. Damn South Park; why must they be so funny?

Since it was a pleasant, partially sunny afternoon, we deemed it appropriate to vacate the familiar stools, and venture to the actual DuPont Circle where we could sit on the grass, snap photos, and I could begin writing my posts. It never ceases to amaze how quickly one can get behind on these. I lost myself in Pocketmail, and before I knew it, it was time to get to 20th and K and our MTA bus out of Swamp Politic. There was some slight confusion about which stop we needed, but figured it out just as the eastbound 950 arrived.

The fare was $5 each, which is more than reasonable considering how far we were going, and the bus is far more comfortable than the typical city bus... or Greyhound for that matter. It smelled much better than the Dirty Dog too! The commuter began to fill up as we left DC, so I strapped on my headphones and wrote for almost the entire hour- ride to Kent Island, pausing to take pics of the Chesapeake Bay and the bridge that crosses it.

The bus deposited us at a Park n' Ride situated beneath another, smaller bridge that is pedestrian- friendly. Chris and I came to the giddy realization that we were finally "in it". No planned rides, no beds, no more occupying someone's space. Nothing but the loads we were carrying. I have to tell you, that felt good! It was very nice to start near the water after coming from the high desert, and we immediately met a nice, outgoing, Korean War veteran who was admiring the bay from his bicycle. A fine introduction to Maryland on Foot. Several other people waved and honked as we made our initial steps toward Delaware. Quite friendly, these Marylanders.

I was amused at how quickly my mind re- adapted to nomad- mode. My body on the other hand: nosso much. I had adjusted the hip belt improperly, and for the first mile it pinched the nerve above my left ass- cheek. I'm not sure what's more pathetic: that my ass was the first thing to hurt, or that it took a mile for me to do something about it.

We followed the route adjacent to US-50 into the first town, Grasonville, where I noticed a 7/11 and figured it would have a payphone to upload updates. Since it was now nearly 6, we figured we'd just find a spot nearby to stealth camp for the night, eat some food, and get to it in full- force tomorrow. I began to feel the first indications of heel blisters by then too, so that would also give me a chance to try to get ahead of that painful situation.

I filled up on water, bought a Coke with money from my over- inflated change pouch (it's NOT a purse, goddammit!), and we then crossed over US-50 to a wooded area we'd seen from the store. Once on the other side, Chris mumbled something, in what sounded like a made- up D & D language, and inexplicably bounded over the guardrail. I thought at first he was on an imaginary quest for the Mystical Talisman, or perhaps the Fair Maiden of the Wood... then I thought of Don Quixote attacking the windmill... before getting slightly pissed when realizing that I'd now have to go seek him out. I was thinking of him at that point less as Quixote, and more as Rocinante's hind quarters. All was well however. After plowing thru thorn bushes, I found our Nuevo Quixote climbing a tree... literally. He was climbing a tree and was quite tickled about it.

He had happened upon a clearing, which appeared to be the perfect place to camp. We decided to go with single- tarp formation, hanging the 8 x 10 tarp over the bivys, packs, and our heads in case of rain. I was looking forward to some hot oats, when we heard it...

Severe weather sirens.

The tarp was blocking our view of the western sky, and while Chris dug out the radio, I saw approaching doom. I believe my eloquent response to this revelation was: "Holy fucking Christ, dude!" Yes, I am even more of a wordsmith in real life.
Our flimsy tarp shelter now held new significance as we quickly scrambled to get things tightened down and protected. The weather band radio said there was a severe thunderstorm warning with the possibility of 60 mph gusts. I surveyed the already- fallen trees that had been rooted in water- saturated ground, and had visions of one of them paying an unwelcome visit from above.

The winds rose, skies opened, lightning flashed... for about 30- minutes. Then it gradually dissipated, and as I type this, we now have a beautiful, cloudless, yet damp, first night out. I feel a bit like Vern again, yet instead of wild- rednecks, this time it was a puny thunderstorm.

The annoying thing about tonight is NOT the rain, but the fact that I cannot seem to organize myself. I know that comes after a couple of days... but Christ! I'm on my third fucking lighter already!

Both of us are feeling an intense, excited calm, if that makes any sense at all. It's hard to explain, but despite the rain and US-50's racket, all is well in the world.

4/20: A D.C. Birthday

I slept much later than I would have liked, considering it was our last day with Trent, and that he had made arrangements to have lunch with his parents, sister, and nephew before driving us into DC. Trent's dad had worked with he and Chris on a film some years back, and wanted to be sure to see him before we left.


For whatever reason, we just couldn't get going and finally left at around 1. We made a stop at the post office, where I mailed now- "extra" shirts home, and arrived at Trent's folk's house much later than intended. I felt shitty about that. They had already eaten by then, plus our foot- dragging had thrown Trent's schedule off; he'd now have to rush to get back from DC to pick his daughter, Cassidy, up from school.

His parents live in a gorgeous house in the country that he, of course, had built himself. We had a quick lunch, then they listened as Chris recounted his stories of his cross- country walk. I added a few things from last year where I could. Trent's mom and dad seemed like wonderful, enjoyable people and it reminded me a bit of what I'd missed growing up without a full family. I wish we could have spent some more time there.



We left for DC close to 2:30, and were soon jumping out of the Audi near DuPont circle, just a few streets away from P Street, where Karessa had lived during my time in DC. It struck me how neat it was to be back here, in a backpack, 14- years later. I also imagined the degree to which I would have been pissing myself if someone had placed me in this very situation in 1995! "I'm hip about time man, but I just got to go." Name the movie, win a prize....

Bill & Laura's place was close by, so we strapped on the packs in the drizzle, then into our haven: a coffee shop. We loaded up on the bottomless cup, and I updated again while enjoying the mental exercise of recounting the events of the last few days. Not a lot had "happened", but the couple days at Trent's were incredibly cool.



I held no expectations for this next stop, as I knew next to nothing about Bill & Laura, other than he was a "conservative" who had been elected as Neighborhood Commissioner. I also knew that he was heavily involved in African- aid, traveling there many times. This last fact appealed to me; I have a growing urge to go to Africa. This was rekindled a bit while at the coffee shop, as I chatted up a canvasser for Care.org. I refuse to get involved with the Red Cross, due to my first- hand experience after Katrina, and wont take part in any of these $10,000 "adventure trips" sold to college kids under the guise of "charity". In a nutshell, I find it best to avoid ANY organization who ONLY wants your money. I'm sure I'll elaborate sometime, but my hope was to pick Bill's brain a bit about getting involved, on a grassroots level, IN Africa while avoiding the money- whores on this end. Good luck with that, Todd.

We arrived at their house and, despite Chris's description, I was stunned to discover that they owned the entire building, which is more like a museum. There are three levels, all theirs, and decorated beautifully. This may have been the swankiest house I have ever been inside as a guest!

Bill & Laura were a surprise in and of themselves; much younger than I had pictured! I had always imagined them in their 50's, but they seemed close to my age, if not younger. It never occurred to me to ask. Both of them were very welcoming, and again, none of the third- wheel stuff.

We discovered a common love: South Park and commenced to watching the John Edward episode after Chris tried, in futility, to explain the metaphysical quest. To his defense, this isn't a conversation you can just "have" with anyone. Most will either just "get it" or won't. Trying to logically explain it to those without common experiences is extremely difficult, because you're central character doesn't die on a cross.

Speaking of Messiah Complex, Chris turned 33 today which, as he felt compelled to remind all who listened, was the age Jesus supposedly died. After South Park, Bill & Laura took us out for burgers to celebrate Chris's crucifixion age and we had another really neat conversation. Not nearly as intense as the one at Trent's, but taken from another angle. Bill has an obviously brilliant, analytical, scientific mind. Just the sort that is a challenge to religious, spiritual, or mystical people. He asks great questions and challenges you to answer them, without being condescending. He's genuinely curious about where you're coming from... even though you're not going to convince him! This was just the exercise I needed, after having conversations almost exclusively with those who agree for so long. Masturbation's great... but now and then it's fun to have to work for it! In the end, it seemed that we were much more aligned socially and politically than I would would have thought, while eventually agreeing that the search for "answers" is just as important as finding them, because you learn much about yourself and others in the process. I also got a hearty laugh when I realized that I had stayed both at an anarchist commune in Oklahoma City, and in the home of a D.C.elected official... in the span of a week. Another very interesting evening, to say the least.

After another couple of religion- mocking episodes of South Park, we tried unsuccessfully to upload pictures again and got to bed at a decent hour. The original "plan" (ha!) was to stay in DC thru Wednesday, but that spontaneously changed, as we would be in the way of their open- house on Tuesday. We decided it would be best to find a route over the Chesapeake Bay and finally get into the backpacks...

4/19: Annapolis, MD

Waking up between noon and 1, Sunday started on the verge of Hell. I honestly wondered for the first hour if I'd be able to function at all because of the grape- induced hangover! Thankfully, after some water, coffee, and a few bites to eat, I felt a whole lot better.

Trent needed to go to a fundraiser in Annapolis for Meagan's ballet company, so Chris and I were off to wander the tourist- trap for a few hours. He had described it as a town with "nothing practical", unless you're a tourist. That was proven to be the case, but since Chris and I WERE pseudo- tourists, it served its purpose. Being the home of the Naval Academy, there were lots of soon- to- be- sailors walking about, looking proud in their officer- candidate dress whites. I had to chuckle at the memories of my Navy days; I know that look of brainwashed pride quite well!

The weather we had been ahead of all the way across country finally caught up, so it was a chilly, damp day, and I obviously didn't feel like walking much, so after a quick trip to the bay and a hello to Trent's friend we stopped off for lunch at a neat little 50's style diner, then found a coffee shop where Chris wrote, I updated, and the co- ed across from us was busy reading, and looking good.

Trent picked us up at around 9, and it was back to Chesapeake Beach where we watched a bit of Century of the Self after a viewing of the documentary Trent had made of the southern- state road trip with his daughter, Cassidy, last year. It was damn good; something I would definitely watch if I happened across it on the Travel Channel.

Chris and I struggled to learn the process of copying and uploading pics on a Mac, until we'd had enough and got to bed about 3am... much later than I would have guessed when I woke up!

4/18: Chesapeake Beach, MD

There were encouraging indications as to how Trent & I would click soon after we got into the car and headed east from DC into E. Maryland. It was apparent that he felt strongly about things, and one of the things I admire most is authentic, thought- out passion. I knew all was good once he made an almost sheepish comment about getting on his "soap box", and sharing his thoughts on the death of the American city, how people have isolated themselves in their boxes... inside their gated communities. I had to laugh to myself remembering Kim commenting on my tendency to rant, and it seemed I was going to greatly enjoy our quick stay at Trent's.

He called his girlfriend, Meagan, and arranged for her to meet us at his place in Chesapeake Beach. Meagan is fascinating in her right; an exquisite ballet dancer who wasn't intimidated by the conversation... although I doubt she agreed with much of it!

His house was built by he and his father, and is very, very, cool! It's a tri-level, east coast style (tall, skinny... is that a style?) that's maybe a half- mile from Chesapeake Bay. There was no television, which I found remarkable (and admirable) considering he has a 14-yr. old daughter, that he and Chris had met in film school... and was still active in shooting and video editing. I quickly wondered if he too had ever called himself a whore, as I had during my radio days. I never listened to the radio after that realization, even while grunting thru it...poorly.

Trent and Meagan set about making cheeseburgers and pouring wine as we all gathered around the coffee table and began chatting. I was struck by how inquisitive he was, asking good questions, with multiple follow- ups about the trip and the reasons/ methods behind it. He was sincerely interested, not simply in the typical anecdotal "this one time at band camp" stuff which is fine for most, but also the philosophy behind it. It was the kind of conversation that once it got going, was like a steam roller. The kind that I live for! Since he's involved in film, he had a digital video camera handy, so he and Meagan proceeded to interview us. The creative vibe was nearly as intoxicating as the wine. (not quite- as I would brutally realize in the morning) A very cool night indeed; I surely wasn't feeling like the third wheel as I had assumed I would.

In that sense, everything had so far exceeded expectations for me. I still believe it comes from the realization Chris and I came to in Albuquerque the night my car died; that things seemed to lie out perfectly once we took the attitude that we are simple side- car passengers both taking part in AND, more importantly, observing this "dramedy" of our own lives. That sense of surrender and acceptance can be a powerfully liberating thing.

Four bottles of wine, and seven hours later, we were out of wine and long since had stopped having structure to our little debateathon. And I was hammered. I don't recall the last time I had actually lost coordination; I am usually more agile than when I'm sober, but when I bounced my head off the door frame, I knew it was long past time for bed! Meagan had probably sensed where the night was headed, going to bed early, leaving we boys to play in our sandbox. I had a great time, but I'd pay for it Sunday!

4/18: Virginia & DC

Saturday started early, at least for Devin and Leif. We had gotten a good piece of Virginia behind us before stopping for the night at a rest stop 90- miles or so south of Roanoke.

After a quick refill with the remaining veggie oil stored from Memphis & Nashville, it was off for the final push thru the rest of Virginia, into Maryland, and finally Washington, D.C.

Virginia was one of the pleasant surprises of the trip so far. The western part of the state is disturbingly beautiful, at least the sliver I saw from the bus on I-81. The slight regret returned in that we hadn't gone thru this part of the country afoot. Maybe later...

The drive toward Winchester and I-66 went quickly; almost too quickly to suit me. It seemed like 300 miles were gone in a blink of the eye, and coming into Washington brought back a flood of memories. Devin was driving thru the same area I'd lived in, for a few months, back in 1995. I wondered what had become of the people I had known, and lost touch with, during my time there. And, I again wondered: how was I living there alone if I was only 15? These are the questions that linger...

Chris coordinated with his friend, Trent, as we began to gather our things and arrange our packs for the drop off in DC. Devin had a friend to see downtown, so we asked him to drop us off at the Mall so we could goof around, playing the part of Japanese tourists, while we waited for Trent to get into the city from his home in Chesapeake Beach, which is on the bay about a half- hour's drive south of Annapolis.

The weather was perfect... sunny and in the mid 70's again... as we stepped off Zeitgeist Apparatus (Devin's pet name) for the last time. I had come to enjoy being on the bus and the routines that we had fallen into. I also felt that I was leaving old friends behind, ones that I had known forever, because of the experiences we had shared over the 5+ days we had traveled together. We had a good laugh at Tennessee Law Enforcement's expense, signed their guestbook, took a few pics, did the man- hug thing, then stepped off toward The Mall- with the huge falic- tribute to capitalism looming overhead. This felt remarkable. We'd boarded the bus in Santa Fe and disembarked nearly 2000 miles away, in the heart of the most powerful city on earth. At the risk of sounding like Chris, we are a couple of badasses.

We hiked a roundabout route from Constitution Ave., around the Reflecting Pool (Forrest!), to the Lincoln Memorial, snapping pictures and relishing our role as spectacles. People were sneaking pictures of US... at the Lincoln Memorial. Ha!
Trent called after about an hour, so we trekked back down the Mall to meet him at Thor's Penis. We then walked to his car, near the Capitol Building, and drove off to Maryland.

4/17: E. Tennessee

We all got up pretty late, and pretty hungover; mine more from being allowed to smoke inside a bar again. Devin had moved the bus to a theater parking lot at some point, and immediately went into cleaning mode for quite awhile. It reminded me of trying, still, to remove all remaining evidence of last night's March of the Pigs.

My skepticism surrounding Chad's veggie oil was proven ludicrous. The barrel was completely full of the cleanest oil I have seen to date, and in such a place behind the strip mall where we could simply pull along side, using the electric gas- pumpy- thingy to take it straight into the tank. Chad was working, so we gave he and his co- workers a tour of the bus and then were off, completely full, with an extra 15- gallons loaded in extra buckets they had given us. Even the weather was perfect. 75... sunny. I honestly got the impression that Tennessee was trying to make good on the night before!

While we were there, Chris received a call from his friend, Trent, who lives outside of Washington, DC confirming that we had a place to stay when we arrived. We now had our next destination solidly in place.

Devin made a quick stop to pick up filters, then we were off for a quiet day of reflection, riding, and watching the beauty of E. Tennessee pass us by. There were lots of thoughts considering that we were doing this part MUCH too quickly. This part of the country would be killer on foot! I didn't dwell on it much however; something else is driving us, and to continue the metaphor, I am making a conscious effort to play the role of that side- car passenger.

Chris and I also discussed our different perspectives regarding Oklahoma City, and some budding ideas regarding the perception of "moral superiority" as it applies to imposed dogma. I need to step the fuck back occasionally and try to remember that I often don't have nearly enough information to presume to judge. Oklahoma City was one of these times. I wasn't "one of them" because I had been brought there, randomly, as a passenger with people who DID belong! Duh, douchebag.

We finally left I-40 after nearly five full days, getting on I-81, then crossing in to Virginia sometime around midnight. Devin decided to skip Virginia Beach, choosing instead to take the route thru Washington to Delaware. We've set a tentative off- load point: Annapolis, MD. Another fucking "plan" (ha!)...