Hitchhiking With an Angel

It was the summer of ’78, the month was August.  I was restless and very confused where, if anywhere, my life was going.  At the time I was holding down a job, at the bank of the mall in downtown Muskegon as a maintenance man.  To say the least, for a dreamer like me with wonder lust in my veins, this was no job for me.

So after about eight months on the job and conquering all eight floors, I decided it was time to hit the highway once again.  The timing was great; my boss was already on vacation, which made things easy.  I left a note for him to find on his desk upon his arrival.  The note thanked him for the job, but I had to split type of thing. 

I wasn’t sure I was doing the right thing.  I had one of those do it now or never moods coming over me.  I was young, full of adventure, restless and bored; not to mention I was on one of my manic high phases.

So I sold my ’72 Duster to my sister (shit, the clutch was going out any ways) and moved out of my dumpy little apartment on the seedy side of town and hit the road.  I really didn’t have any solid plans, which might explain the ending to this little story.  I just knew I was going west.  I didn’t know where I’d end up and at the time it really didn’t matter.  The fact was I was sick and tired of the direction my life was heading, directly to nowhere. 

I figured anything was better than where I was.  I had a flunky nowhere job, no real girlfriend, and no real place I could call home.  I had to face it, my life was like the song I wrote as a young boy: “Nowhere Man”, later renamed “Nowhere Land” by the Beatles.  This is yet another story.  I was living this song all my life, and still am a bit.  Its presence was definitely much stronger back then, though.  What else was there to do but hit the road?  My first time hitting the road was a couple of years earlier when I hitchhiked to Colorado.  The difference this time would be my company--or lack there of!  I didn’t even have anyone I was meeting out there.  Why, in a time I felt so lost, did I also feel so alive?  I think it was because I was just letting go and going for it all.  You know, betting it all and going for broke. 

I had sort of established myself.  Not meaning I was well off, ‘cause believe me, I wasn’t.  I had this flunky job going nowhere fast.  I just mean I had a dream and was still looking for a princess and this, even though not a lot, gave me the courage I needed to pack it up and risk it all.  Yes, I said a dream.  A dream to be a writer, figure that one out.  This dream was, and still is, a curse at times.  Being young and strong and full of adventure, I was off to conquer the world!  Or it was going to conquer me?

I had no idea what I was doing.  I had maybe 150 bucks and absolutely no idea where I was going.  I made my rounds to say my good byes: you know, my family and my so-called friends and a little last minute partying of course. 

Then I hit the road with everything I owned hanging over my back in an airforce dufflebag.  The dufflebag was the only token I had to show for a month stint serving Uncle Sam.  Yeah, just a month but as you’ve probably figured out, that’s another story. 

I can remember the high I felt leaving Little Town, USA.  I was off on another adventure to see what I can find in the world and in myself.  I guess it’s the part about not knowing what I might find and living on just faith that attracts me.