This morning I understand that I have been displaced as the undisputed Mega Maniacal Bus Board King of BCM. This saddens me to some extent, but not much. I checked out of there a long time ago, and have since, found greener pastures and solace in life.
ROS is now king, long live ROS.
These days I concentrate on the things I love. My old bus, “Be ye not the first to try the latest, nor the last to cast the old aside” is what my grandmother used to tell me, something truly special about being the owner of an old hoopie that is no longer in production
The smell of fresh rain on a country road in the summertime.
Songbirds in the tree on the westside of the house
The view from the top of the hill at the Riverside in Laughlin Nevada.
The husky sound of a woman’s laugh in the dark.
Little children at play.
Long stretches of two lane at dusk
the sound of a big Detroit workin a hill outside of Bozeman
fresh popcorn poppin,
mis-spelled words in Bus Conversion Magazines
Setting the Jake and listening to her bark as she drops off the hill.
High-dollar fuel, bad roads, lousy weather, take the edge off life
Aluminum wheels and shaved rivets
crowded truck stops and radared chicken fry’s
polished wheels excite my senses
I like the look of Albuquerque New Mexico after dark from the top of nine mile hill …
Same with Las Cruces and The College Exit in Henderson Nevada.
Porpoising on the Interstate in Wyoming, running I-20 east out of Houston.
Winning lottery tickets
(Hey … This is my whimsical dream, remember that.)
“It’s all downhill from Van Horn Texas.”
Diesel mechanics who smile and say, “Ah, this aint nuthin.”
Halter tops and cut off Levi’s
Bacon fryin and the smell of burnt toast in the kitchen
(There you go Paul!),
No one in line ahead of me at the fuel desk
mashed potatoes and dark rich gravy
The smell of diesel exhaust early in the morning
a cup of fresh brewed coffee.
Country Music, Miranda Lambert, Carrie Underwood
NASCAR, CMT Video’s, old time Rock n Roll
long, slow wet kisses in the dark,
Stories told late at night around a dying campfire
Cracker Barrel stores
the wife humming softly at the kitchen sink
fried apples in thick syrup.
Meeting another truck on a hill late at night, and he says, “Aint nuthin’ back there driver but a whole lot of dark.”
All that … is a Windy Winter Day slice of life … Some of it even makes me smile. As I am now officially aware that I am no longer a King, I shall ply my trade as a humble serf in the bus board Kingdom and stumble happily thru life.
I mean, who need’s all that childish crap?