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WANDERING STAR
It must be Friday, I find myself over here lurking in PC territory, testing the waters. It is too hot in the shop to do anything serious, so here is another scathing indictment of Public Education. Please feel to move it to PUP or some other place if it is in the wrong place.
Today I want to be westbound and down, six on the floor, the other foot out the door, in the smart aleck lane, styling down the boulevard. Running hard and fast in the quiet time of the morning, and everyone is asleep in their beds. Tucked away, safe, insulated from the cool night air. A time for reflection, deep inner thoughts, of the things that could have been. Here I sit … Thinking about High Dollar buses and a full tank of fuel, of getting away to the great American Highway.
Living my life in quiet desperation in the wee hours of the night. Silently yearning for the smell of fresh diesel in the morning, vividly recalling screaming down some two-lane with the window down, the whine of the rubber meeting the asphalt in the corridors of my mind.
Hangin’ onto the premise of the “Good Old Days.”
That time, when youth and inexperience was not an issue, I had plenty of time on my hands, a big slurpy in the drink holder next to my seat, ample supplies of change in my pocket for fuel. A new road ahead of me.
A slow day here at the old goat farm, I find myself secretly dreaming of one of those “good jobs.” Where you drive a $1.8 Million motor home and deliver it to the customer and get paid for doing it. Where you make a goodly amount of money and don’t have to do a lot of work. Quick stepping down some two-lane in Florida in the wintertime.
Oh well … Some men Dream … Some men Plan … And then God smiles.
The weight of the world, the need to survive, has made me believe that I have no rights. Out of the blue, I need someone to offer me a place of refuge. As warm as the sun … Just close your eyes and reach for the moment … Before it slips by.
Here is your second chance … Take it and fly.
Good-Gosh, I want to run away! Where is the chocolate milk and the cookies please, placate my spirit, I am drowning here and I don’t know what to do. Take me away to the beach, where I meet beautiful people, who appreciate me and respect me for my feelings. Where I can eat my way thru a #3 washtub full of Oysters or a dinner plate of Lobstahs and no one notices or cares. A place noticeably void of barking dogs. Sirens. Road Rage, where folks genuinely smile, who wave at you with all of their fingers.
Sometimes, during the middle of the day, I would be allowed to lie down for a nap, for no apparent reason. Or perhaps sneak down to the local watering hole for a much needed, albeit ill advised Margarita. Some conversation with a beautiful, well tanned, interesting woman, walk barefooted in the sand.
So long from America’s Heartland … El Reno, Oklahoma, where the Twisters make lazy circles in the sky, and the wind lifts up red dust to get in your eye, a slow paced sort of place where we don’t drive on the shoulders and do our best to follow the right path. (Now that was refreshing. There is thirty-one minutes of my life, I will never get back.)
Jon, you and Di come on by and pick me up here in my little one water-tower town, I am ready to go! (I am willing to wash dishes and shine brass for my board and keep no matter where it is that we go!) I am ready to roll, to Catch A Ride On A Wandering Star.
Enjoy your well deserved weekend
BCO
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5 Replies
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I’m thinking some of the Jerry Reed songs in the Smokey and the Bandit movies would work real good here. In 10 days we are westbound and down. On a big loop to OKC with a stop in El Reno where we will see if we can make room on the Joey Bed.
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Ah, Smokey and the Bandit, “the good ole days.”
(1977 when the air was clean and sex was dirty)
By the way … I snore.
BCO
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BCO,
I see a Marathon XLII double slide picture above.
Where did you find tat little nugget parked ?
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It is parked in Phoenix at Waynes Coach Sales, bring your checkbook.
BCO
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That’s an 07 with 45,000 miles and Wayne has it on our site, georgeous bus…..
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