One week on the road, and I feel like I need twice as much coffee to get my brain spinning the way the old bus wheels do down the highway, maxing out at 55 miles per hour, maybe 60 on long open stretches…
This past mission, drifting up the coast in no name towns outside of DC and through Maryland, landing in weird towns in New Jersey, based around Dupont factory working hours, and another tripped out version of the American Dream gone fucking wild.
First things first, we met a bartender named Pick with 7 fingers who opened beers with 2 of them, across from a factory that makes teflon, outside of Philly. He didn’t mind our company, and we enjoyed his. The Factory was at about 10 percent capacity as it was not long ago, but it left a shadow that was pretty ominous.
Darting across the bridge into the City of Brotherly Love and up the Turnpike into the Lehigh Valley, The mountains, and summer time tree tops were a brief pause from the ghettos and industry of an old city, to the decline of another major steel town gone bust.
None of it seemed to phase anyone, pizza delivery guys did burnouts in hot rods, kids played in the streets, bad tattoos covered peoples skin, the place was half a mess, we loitered hard , and fit right in.
Under bridges, in drainage ditches, on hilltops, in the woods, and in alleyways we kept our eyes peeled for that American dream again, I saw glimpses of it everywhere, like Animal Chin was leaving a crumb trail of old ideas,day dreams and hopes, behind for us to find our way.
Camped out in makeshift shanty towns, in and out of old warehouses, in parking lots, showering under spickets, and in cold waterfalls, eating lakeside off of an old grill we found its remnants, in each of us, as our shared time revealed through friendships, something we had, but needed the road to re-discover.
Driving north into the darkest stormy parts of the night, through the Pocono Mountains, I white knuckled shitty driving conditions and even shittier roads, in between diesel fuel fill ups and more parking lot loitering, watching nickel and dime drug dealers argue over open invoices, I was home on the road. Landing this time in Upstate Ny.
Nothing earth shattering, but it meant the world to me, and when I parked, it was like I woke up, rubbing my eyes, hoping to dream some more.
It’s is still out there, it’s not always pretty, and it’s not always convenient or popular, but it’s still alive, it’s moving erratically between the lines, and i think it has wheels on it.
“How ’bout GOD BLESS AMERICA!!?”