The Road I Knew....in process

[Artguy]

The Road I Knew – The Road I Know
Chapter 1
After WW2 North America became obsessed with the car. Highways that cover our continent were built in every direction that gave us the opportunity to discover each other. It was all about speed; it was all about go and that was what life became for many. Driving big American cars as fast as they could go, nowhere was the destination. Meeting and picking anybody up that wanted GO in their lives.
1978, fresh out of art school without a chance of garnering gainful employment, and a hefty student loan to pay. A favour was given me to find the road, and let it take me where it will.
Starting at my home of Toronto Canada, I headed west. It didn’t’ take long for me to see why, there they were, thousands of like minded folks, all the youthful minds that congealed into a singular consciousness on one white ribbon.
45 years later, my road continues. Artist, carpenter, husband, and father. The road I chose to grow without being scattered to the wind. It was 7 years after my return from a year of living on the tip of my thumb, and the generosity of others, of which there was no shortage of, it was the 70’s. All of humanity were a different beast, almost a different species. My girlfriend, to become my wife, or in todays’ parlance partner.
We would, like typical daters go to movies restaurants etc. A year later we became, what is known as common law husband and wife. Devotion to a religious entity and municipality unnecessary. The true test of our bond was travelling. There were ups and downs, but we survived. Three years later a child came into our lives, with whom we flourished.
It’s 2023 now and after 36 years we have weathered all the storms that came our way. Our child now a young lady, with a partner.
Social media, the new reality, the new road, is a storm that rages in everyone’s lives. It’s torn the world to shreds. Divisive factions have created anger-the birth of hate. War has put the nuclear clock too close to that foreboding midnight, and an end none of us can fathom. I look back at my youthful ramblings while living in the here and now.
The past will be neither my burden nor a shining light. My reflections are as ethereal as all of life is.
Chapter 2
May 1st, 1978, my ex-girlfriend gave me a lift to the nearest highway after a night of love and lsd. Her squealing tires as she left was a certain display of her mood. The sun still low in the east, my mind still a little blurry, don’t know if it the was acid but the onramp to my white line seemed a portal, I was penetrating my looking glass.
My backpack was pretty hefty. It contained everything I believed would get me to where I wasn’t going. No destination was my mantra. The items I chose were as simple as possible. Two pairs of jeans, three t shirts, an assortment of underwear and socks, toothbrush and paste, a bar of soap, a small tent, sleeping bag and roll, a small fishing kit, a bowie knife, (illegal, but handy), a rain poncho, rolling papers and a small amount of marijuana. I smoked back then so there were also a couple packs of smokes. I always had a small amount of cash in my wallet, and more buried deep in my pack. My sleeping arrangements were often youth hostels which were peppered across Canada, didn’t see any across the border. When they weren’t available, off the road would do, find a hidden spot that was clear and flat. One thing I didn’t count on though, was that May was prime season for black flies and mosquitos.
There was very little trouble getting rides, one after the other moving further away from the city grind. Every driver wanted to know my story. Their wide eyed fascination made me think they were living vicariously through me. Often the conversation would lead to laughter or “Are you crazy?” My favourite was “What do your parents think of this?” I’m 21, have been living on my own for 3 years so it just didn’t matter, of course they would roll their eyes, oh well.

[stilltrucking]

I road that was my refuge a million miles and 25 years when I was on the run from spider love.
from the sweetest orgasm I ever had but hardly worth the karma it wrought
It began in The Shipwreck Salon In Revere Beach Massachusetts
after a night of psychedelic sex
In the early morning light I said, "Good morning" and she called me "asshole"
short romances were my specialty.
still crazy at 83