This morning we find ourselves at the Flyin’ Hooker (Flying J Truck-stop) some 400 miles from the house in Tucumcari, New Mexico. Savoring a cup of coffee and taking note of my surroundings. So far, I have discovered this. Early morning coffee drinkers are a strange lot, some of us like it lukewarm and others piping hot. (Hey? That rhymes, I could be a poet and didn’t know it) Now I ask you, can life get any better? Fast food joints, breakfast in the morning, sleeping in the back of the parking lot in a truck-stop.
For the most part, the joint is empty, a couple of freight hauling truckers sitting at the counter, two young kids in a booth, who seem to be “all over each other.” I study them intently, she has black lipstick, black fingernails, jewelry everywhere, and I do mean everywhere. It is in her ear, her nose, a spot above her eyebrows is pierced.
A picture of loveliness. Every Mother’s pride and joy.
Now her not so apparent non-virginal counterpart, he is much the same, hair is askew, lip pierced, ear ring, and BOTH eyebrows have shiny appendages sticking out of them. I think to myself, “this kid is ripe for marriage, he is ready to go.”
He has endured pain and he has already bought jewelry.
Owning a bus makes life a little bit more interesting and somewhat better. It affords me the luxury of being able to get out and away from all those things in life that manage to drag me down. It takes my mind off this ugly rash in my left armpit and the nation’s economy. I have no Late Breaking … Live … Local Headlines to contend with, no cable bill, no sorry political viewpoint to consider on my television. I have no user screen name or password retrieval issues to face this day … I am fine with the world.
Strangely I find myself riding a gentle wave of adventure this day. I have the road calling to me and some free time to answer up. Don’t get me wrong, life in El Reno, Oklahoma is good. But on the whole, at least today, I find that I would rather be somewhere else, somewhere far, far away.
The sun cracks the horizon and morning arrives. Wrapped tight in my private thoughts, I hardly take notice. Over in the corner of the parking lot I hear my Pig Iron Pony idling and I sense he is chomping at the bit, he is ready to run and I am to some extent, ready myself. Daddy’s Hobby and his turbo charged big horses, want to get out and register a few serious miles. I am obligated to oblige, droppin’ a couple of singles on the table I head out to the parking lot.
Today we will be westbound and down, “six on the floor and the other one out the dog-gone door, hammered down.” Our reserved spot in the fast lane waits for us. Tomorrow this place will be just a faint memory.
Life is good … I am a fortunate Pilgrim indeed.
Possibly Related: Life Is Good Troubadour