peculiar travel suggestions are dancing lessons from god

Well... at some point I had to walk out... this in spite of the horrid economy which had managed to lay off most of my friends... I couldn't get laid off... I was paid to little... I was too competent in spite of my attitude which may or may not have suggested the threat of imminent violence... but I would have and was only killing myself. So I walked out and had to come up with a new plan.

The first was a bicycle tour. It was a long shot and everything would have had to work out for me to pull it off. Unfortunately, nothing did. It became too quixotic for even for someone who is addicted to jousting windmills. Still, I remained convinced that a music needed to happen. Music is my crackainerion.... Without it, I go crazy and will quickly reduce myself to mumbling to myself on the streets and selling sexual favors way too fucking cheap.

So there was this album... a second real one... that I had been messing about with for three years.... It is time. I decided I needed to head to Salt Lake... where I know many a great musician... though I plan to include some awesome PDX musicians as well... but there I have the space and equipment.... So I go.

To do this I need some sort of vehicle to transport my dozen or so acoustic instruments. Since I don't plan on actually living there and don't want to pay rent, I need a vehicle I can rubbertramp in as well... (ie. sleep in...).

My first thought was a camper van... but most are huge gas guzzling monsters that wouldn't be fun if I actually had to go somewhere.... I thought a bit about minivans but the memory of my brother's girlfriend's Astro (I should say ASStro) having transmission FAIL in Boca Raton leaving us stranded with the crazy guy in charge of the Weekly World News. Anybody remember Ed Anger? I certainly always will after staying with him for three days. Once, he pointed a big ass loaded pistol and asked me what I thought of him....

I told him he was an asshole.

True story.

Next I thought of those little station wagons. Those Subaru's are pretty cool. I could live there. It would suck but I remember in Anchorage a couple of our teacher friends who slept in those (...they taught in the "bush" to Native Alaskans (dry....) so during the summers they came to town to DRINK!!!! and pass out in a Subaru in our driveway). I even looked at one. I wasn't too thrilled about it before I saw it and when, after a test drive, I could easily see the engine smoking (even I am not so daft as to know when at the very least a head gasket is fucked....) I just told the dude.....

"Good luck with that..."

I slept poorly that night. I went to sleep about 3am and woke about 6:45am....

way too fucking early for an unemployed dude....

So I scanned the ads with no agenda other whatt would work with my measly budget. I saw a Toyota truck with a camper top. That looked pretty damn good. When I saw it was relatively low mileage and half of them were from being towed behind an RV, it really looked fucking good. It also had one of those so called "bulletproof engines".... and they weren't kidding. People have literally shot them things and they still ran.

I needed this vehicle but... of course... it was way out in SE Portland and by the time I got there somebody would've snatched it... but I shot him an email anyway. It turned out I had emailed him about thirty seconds after he put the ad up. He called me back and... sadly... I explained I would be on my way but it would take an hour because I didn't have a car. I asked him to call me back if somebody else got there first.

He said he would let me look at it first.

Another good sign. The seller was cool. When I got there, he turned out to be even cooler. He was an older carpenter with all sorts of pet projects. He talked my ears off about Dead concerts (...back in the day) and his plans for retirement. He was working an artisan stuff to sell at Saturday Market. I checked out the truck... not perfect by a long shot... but hell-a-better than anything else I could expect to find so cheap. I drove it home fully loving my new found freedom on wheels with its butterfly medallion hanging off the visor.

I guess the not-suck-y-ness was further exacerbated by the visit to the DMV. I was trying to work out a sandal situation when an older black gentlemen came towards the door. I held it open for him. He said "You can have my ticket". I had gone through the trouble of preparing myself for this visit by bringing my Two Months of Music iPod and a really long book but I could barely get the paperwork filled out before that number was called..........

So be it. I will consider this an auspicious beginning. That is a good thing... especially considering I have no fucking clue what I am going to do... other than make some fucking music.

"peculiar travel suggestions are dance lessons from God"

Book of Bokonin (k.v.)