Day 3: I Got 99 Problems but Meth Ain’t One
Well, I am alive. Here we go. About forty minutes into traveling I was run off the highway by a semi-truck. Yup. I know. I was passing him on his left fairly rapidly and nearly to the cab when he started to merge into my lane. I hit the gas to overtake him before we would have collided but I ended up swerving into the gravel shoulder. He slammed on his brakes and I was able to get back onto the road after a few tense maneuvers. I ended up in front of him speeding away. He flashed his headlights in a rapid fashion which I’m assuming in trucker language meant “OMG, I’m so sorry and I’m glad you’re alive!” I turned up the radio and sped away.
At that point I thought I had my excitement for the day, but it just gets more interesting. Pulling into a gas station about two hours later I wanted to clean out my car, but there was no parking spots open in front of the Chevron station so I rounded the corner to the back where I parked a few spaces down from a Samoan working on the engine of his car. Next to the nearby dumpster there was a clothes donation station and I, being nearly obsessive with minimizing the stuff around me began cleaning out my car throwing garbage away and donating about seven articles of clothing that I didn’t need.
After a minute or two Kevin came over to me and struck up a conversation.
“How’s it going man? Coming from Utah huh?”
“Yeah man.” I smiled.
“What are you doing out here?”
“Got the urge to travel the states! Heading north and gonna make it as far as I can. You broken down or…”
“Oh, I was having car trouble but I’m good now. I’m traveling too. What an adventure huh?”
“I hear ya.”
I was thoroughly enjoying our conversation. He was a happy looking dude and I was beginning to feel for his six year old son that his mom was taking care of in San Juan. He was bored with his Security job and quite to travel the country. It was a little different but it was “crazy” how similar our situations were he affirmed. After getting a handle on where it was that I used to work he asked if I smoked.
“I’ve been in the same room as weed smoke, but that’s about it, man.”
“You know, I got some stuff if you’re interested in trying something.”
“What do you got?” I couldn’t help myself.
He cleared his throat and said softly, “Meth.”
Inside I couldn’t help but laugh and think that I was practically talking to Jesse Pinkman from Breaking Bad. But I stayed composed.
“I’m good man,” I said.
“You know I just take a little in the mornings as a booster It’ll help you out on the road, I’ll let you try some if you want.” He didn’t give up.
But right than another car pulled up. “I’m really good, but it looks like you got some new customers man. I’m gonna take off.” I insisted. But I looked over and it was a car full of teenagers. The oldest one couldn’t have been older than nineteen.
Here I was standing in front of a man who’s job it was to create addicts, and behind me four kids all looking to look cool in front of their friends.
I took a deep breath, turned back around to Kevin and shook is hand, “It was good talking with you.”
“Yeah man, take it easy,” he repliedas he looked passed me at his new prospects.
But before he could let go of my hand I gripped it tight. “They’re just kids man, let them be.” I spoke soft as I looked him in the eye.
He clenched his teeth and slowly nodded. I let go, got in my car and drove away.
Those kids probably told Kevin off too but I really am not worried about. Kevin will make his choices and those kids will make theirs. And that’s the end of that story.
Pulling into San Francisco Bay is another. But it’s just depressing. The tours were all sold out for Alcatraz, my phone was dying, and I was stressing out about deciding whether to find a place to stay so I could wait in line at 4 in the morning to get ahold of tickets for tomorrow. Idling in my car so I could keep my almost dead phone charging in an expensive parking garage so I could look up rooms for the night I began to have a panic attack. Between , not being allowed to leave the garage and return without repaying for a spot, trying to keep my phone charged, struggling with finding rooms, some of which were three-hundred dollars and others 60 dollars with no parking or wifi or breakfast, and worrying about making it to the apple store so they could evaluate my Mac and possibly get a new one if need be and stressing out at that prospect, I threw my phone in the car and just walked down the bay area so I could think. I sat down on a concrete block with skate-stoppers drilled into the ledge.
As I looked out at The Rock and hearing the barking of nearby seals, there was only one thought that clearly came to my mind. I needed to get out of there. So I did. I went back to my car. “Siri, directions to the Redwood National Forest.”
I twisted through a few hilly roads and “Stay on this road for 315 miles.” Thank God. I love those big numbers. All you have to do is drive straight off into the sunset.
I tell you. It’s been awhile since I’ve had a panic attack like that. Even driving solo with a rental car through downtown Manhattan wasn’t a big deal. I guess I’ve been a little stressed for the passed few days. But at the end of the day I give my thanks to God for helping me to this point. I’m alive, on the road, and I’m not a meth-head. Thank you. Life is good.
Gonna be in the Red Wood Forest tomorrow and into Oregon. And, oh yeah, I wrote this on my Mac… not my phone, which is good. Hopefully I can still make use of it for a little while longer. Time to sleep.
Peace.