perpetual jam!!!!!!!!!

[stilltrucking]

Perpetual turns another page

Sorry I don't have a plot for you mnaz
Just highways

kicks and sixty six
sissyphus sounded euphonious
heck it is just a go

Funny how sixty six is such a well known plot
Cause Kerouac had it in his mind
to take old thirty across
and hook up with sixty six in chicago

So the gods were pissed at sissphus
cause no mortals were dying
they gave him a job as a truck driver
hauling tacos to california,
orange juice to florida
and coals to Newcastle
meaningless continous labor
but even so
he could dig it
cause there was always the free ride down the other side
Was it Tehatchapee where cassady rolled forty miles without touching the gas or the breaks.

hammer hammer
we don't need no plots on go
fuzzy notes
and fuzzy logic
par for the course

[stilltrucking]

for some the road was a highway to adventure
teenage whores and cheap dope
others were in it for the scenery

it was just my home
for twenty years

I got nothing to show for it
Neal had his wives and children
Jack had his wives and child and books
All I got is the wind

and my vanity
and three one year safety awards out of twenty
I had a thing for garbage dumpsters

[stilltrucking]

the end of the road
good bye

[stilltrucking]

the road as a refuge
where I could run and run
in perpetual flight
from what I could not face
if you push that rock long enough
day after day
there comes a release
a beatific peace
not an overnight trip
it takes a million miles

it is not a frenetic search for thrills
but there are thrills
miles and miles of monotonous motion
and a sudden thrill
a patch of ice around a shady curve dropping down off Soldier Summit.
a gust of wind that lays it over in Friona
a blow out on a steer axle when you are hammer down near jackson town

but most of all it just the bouncing throbbing pounding slam bang
like the jingle and the roar of a wabash canonball
a place to be
for me
when I had no other place to be
when my friends all called me gypsy boy

I can hardly keep the roads straight anymore
sixty six is I forty now
still remnents here and there
paralell to the interstate
down town shamrock texas
even the Oregon trail
traces still visible from I eighty four
so they say

the road goes ever onward
but it does have and end.
My road song is over
I am down to my last two wheels
The road starts in Newark
and ends in San Pedro
it begins in San Pedro and ends in Newark
it starts in texas and ends in Canada

no ryhme no reason
no plot
no escape
just the same big circle from pacific to atlantic
mexico to canada
around and around
just a circle game
never felt lost
just another guy
on a lost higway

I should have stopped to admire the sceenery
smelled the roses
but I was addicted to the grind.

the road is over
the road goes on
a super highway
of keyboards and pixels

[stilltrucking]

that asphalt and concrete road
For jack it was a means to an end
Joy and beauty

It was just a road to me
Jack had a destination
friends and family waiting
I was just a leaf in the wind
Only bouncing back and forth
from one coast to the other
it was just important that I keep moving
I was on the run

I was born to run
started when I was very young
I ran from my shame

I owed the road a debt I could never pay
and the road owned me

I am off the road
and on the path

it shines before me

[mnaz]

Not sure what I meant by "plot"...
Rte. 66 was a portal to the great escape,
the great American road trip. Chicago to LA
in a lifetime or two...

The motels were grand and funky and numerous.
Now most of them are gone, or boarded up,
in tumbled weed, cracked asphalt & grass skeletons...
But I stayed in quite a few of what remains...
Albuquerque, Gallup, Holbrook, Williams,
Seligman, Kingman, Needles....
king-sized bed and singing pipes
for $18 cash.

"off the road and on the path"... nice.
It's hard for me to think of an Interstate as "the road"...
too direct and efficient; destination over the journey,
click off mile markers like a picket fence,
run for the state line, reset them to zero,
four-lane speed over the flavor of landscapes...
I tried to limit my time on the Interstates;
I preferred powerline roads & mining trails.
I've been all over those basins and ridges.
I need to get back there...

[stilltrucking]

sixty six gets all the ink

Far across the wide Missouri
To the old Wyoming line
From the Jersey shore to San Francisco Bay
She was know to all the truckers
As the mighty Lincoln Highway
But to me she's still Old Thirty all the way

sorry about the quote

Wyoming in winter
Zero Motor Freight
Did not allow us to take interstate eighty
cause the cops would close the highway down
they gates across during winter storms

We would run Old thirty
because we were highway heroes
hard core
I can't explain the feeling of eighteen wheels on ice
a sheet of glass cutting through your abdomen
as close as I can write it

The truck stop
Little America
Have you seen the dead animals
Creeped me out
but any port in a storm

ah the plot thickens
an autonomic driver
Jesus take the wheel
Me I was just sitting there
Like a buddha
cool on my stool
nine hours three hundred miles of ice
and every once in a while
when I would pass a rest stop

where all the cars and trucks were hiding
one or two would see me and figure it was cool
they would hammer down
pass me like I was sitting still
and I would watch them spin off
into the ditch on the next curve

yeah I was a real zero hero
I can't take no credit
it was the ghost in the machine
I don't know what it is about breathing
I was calm
just that squirmy feeling in my gut
and puckered up with a grip on the seat
with both cheeks.

That is what I would love about winter in wyoming
such a religous feeling of calm
while I was scared to death

and the plot
was written
that we should fear the lord
if we would be wise
but then again they say
the it is simple to confuse the wise

digital mind
the road forks
bifurcation
ying yang
dead or alive

hammer hammer

[stilltrucking]

out side my door
a warm after noon and sunshine
windows open to a february summer breeze
that chimes my windchime

In hear the whine of a computer fan giving me the white frieght liner blues

Still addicted to the road
traded in one compulsion for another
type path thology

I don't want a pickle

[stilltrucking]

i would like to get back to those roads you travelled too
use your notes as my guide
I say like to get back
even though I have never been there
I had to run the big roads
cause bottom line it was just my job
But I day dreamed of being he next
Sterling Moss
Alberto Ascari
Juan Manuel Fangio

and of course the greatest of all
Fangio
known as "the maestro" by his peers


yeah you were a tourist
no not that
sounds like an insult
you were a wanderer
a "lonesome traveller"
I was just a wage slave
I envy you
Wish I could follow in your tracks.

Getting out of the car after the race he said to his mechanic simply, "It is finished." Juan-Manuel Fangio was famous for winning a race at the slowest possible speed. His record of wins against starts will probably never be matched.

http://www.ddavid.com/formula1/fangio_bio.htm

[mnaz]

It was just a feeling I had.

First time on the road was strictly A to B,
reeling down Interstate fifteen toward Vegas,
to come in outta the rain, see the light of day,
until I noticed those sweeping curves in between,
and I thought I might like to try a pointless road,
and its silence comforted like crushing immensity.
well, naturally I had to take some notes...

[Dave The Dov]

The road where does it go????
Just drive on it
It will take in
And out
You surely end up
Somewhere but maybe
Or never in the same spot
In your life.
The road is your life then????
_________________
Creole & Cajun Forum

[WIREMAN]

happy birthday jumpin' jack coburn
he woulda been 79 today
my 1st road trip in his
66 mercury 3 speed on
the column that was real drivin' experience
flashin brights lettin the
truckers know it was clear to get in
then the christmas display
cheap thrills back in the 60's
you could just floor it across nevada
"proceed at your own risk" the
signs said

[stilltrucking]

"the sweetest thing in the world is a child's belief in his father" JK

Crazy Mike was in his thirties when Jumping jack was born. If he was here today he would be about 112.

Happy birthday Jumping Jack,
Crazy Mike still learns me
Took me years to mourn for my father
I have read that artists are fortunate
better mourners than your average truck drivers.
No body mourns more beautiful than Kerouac.

Too bad he never got to mourn for his mother.

Cold morning
feels like February
My mind a joke
Seasonal dysfuntion
out of sync

[mnaz]

& the most poignant thing
is a father's belief in his child,
a creator's belief in his creation,
a scientist's belief in his science.

most people instinctively know,
the road will not save them, illuminate them.
the road is only interested in motion.
the road is only interested in itself.
but a few foolhardy souls go there,
try to make art out of it,
try to drive out of it.

therein lies the power of a jam.
jam is just a jam, go is just a go,
making up a road in the flow..

[stilltrucking]

On a dark winter night the road is
a two fold continuous multiplicity
when you are coming off Soldier Summit
a windshield full of stars
and the faint reflected glow of the dashlights

just another guy
on a lost highway
no child to guide me

just some friends on a GO.