The Wild Elk lay like old Italian men at 2pm on a monday afternoon. Redwood forests, full of Giants and Bigfoots, were like a slow blur as Mazzy Star kept the old van running up and down mountain ranges.
It had been three and a half hours of mild weather and open road. I pulled over to stretch the legs and buy a beer and chicken sammy. The strawberry blonde behind the counter blew a bubble , chewed and said in her most uninterested tone, "why'd ya choose the one dirty table in the whole place?"
I smiled my most uninterested smile and said, "i can move if you'd like", she disappeared.
After posting some green form off to the department of border security for a breach of some kind on my last visit to the US i boarded the Bonaventure and pointed south.
The sudden change in weather was like a punch in the guts and it was now i knew i was out of Northern California and into the heat of mid Cali coast. Yet there was no coast to welcome me just a group of hippies who wanted to take me, my bus and guitar captive for an unspecified length of time. Instead i chose a comfy cafe, banana smoothie and the modern comfort of typing on my computer. What a cop out, but hell i knew it would turn out better this way. I love hippies but i'm just not that committed to the cause, plus i come from a family with a heightened sense of smell.
It's been a steady progression this degradation of beauty. Never has it been so evident than when i drove out of the Giant redwood forests of Oregon/North California and into Civilisation where flat tyres, fuel prices, street beggars, and a Target store stood by a beautiful Salmon river. Here i am, part of the mess, flying by with it all as my oyster.
No comments:
Post a Comment