Cambria, California conclusion

Cambria, California, Part 1
Cambria, California, Part 2

When Gisela's tour was over, after I'd spent several hours below Hearst Castle Sunday, we went back into Cambria and ate at the Main Street Grill again. Once again I ate french fries and garlic bread (which had no garlic).

When we went back to the ranch, we watched some TV with Lindy and Leisa in the main house for a couple hours. They all watched TV, anyway; I was paying more attention my computer. Jon was off doing other things.

Slept.

Woke up.

Monday morning Jon seized another opportunity to cook for guests. This time he whipped up some french toast. Instead of the white bread he would normally use, he used a multi-grain bread for the french toast, I think because it was the only bread in the house. I definitely would like to have tried Jon's standard french toast because the guy knows what he's doing in the kitchen. I suspect Lindy knows her way around the kitchen, too, but I didn't have an opportunity to sample any of her work. By the way, they have an awesome kitchen. It's not awesome because it looks pretty, Mom; it's awesome because it's ridiculously functional, which makes it attractive.

After breakfast we all talked for a while. Jon and I began some college football talk. Jon is a USC Trojan fan, and as we all know, I'm a big Buckeye fan. But Jon is not just a fan; he is a knowledgeable fan, so it was a good talk.

Eventually Gisela decided it was time for us to head on down the road, so we did. We drove toward LA and stopped in Malibu, where Gisela got a very expensive spot in a campground. After setting up her tent, we drove down the PCH into Santa Monica, then took I-10 into LA. From downtown LA we went to Hollywood, where we took Hollywood Boulevard west into Laurel Canyon before taking Sunset back to the coast.

At 1:00 am, as we returned to Malibu, I still had nowhere to sleep, so I asked Gisela to pull over just before we reached her campground. Thinking I recognized the area from when I walked through last year, I suspected I might find a nice place to sleep. If so, that would make it easy for the two of us to meet up again in the morning. (Yes, we could have figured out a way for me to stay at the campground, but I think she was worried about being found out and consequently being charged extra, or something like that.)

After a minute of looking around, I found that the area beside (or below) the campground would make an excellent campsite for me. It was a parking lot near several trailheads into the mountains. So I got my stuff out of the car and set up for the night. Before she left, Gisela said she would stop by in the morning so we could go off and see LA together.

First thing Tuesday, we went to some outlet stores near Oxnard. Gisela wanted to get some Levis before heading back to Germany, where they cost $120 or $130. She also wanted to get some Chuck Taylors for her son, if she could find the kind he asked for. She found the Levis, but no Chuck Taylors. I spent a couple more hours sitting around while she shopped. Fortunately, I was able to spend some of that time working on a blog post.

From the outlet stores, we took the 101 toward Hollywood. She wanted to find a shady place for us to get out of the car and eat some of the food we'd bought the previous night, so I suggested Griffith Park (near the Hollywood sign).

As we exited the 101 on Hollywood Boulevard, I saw a donut shop and said something about it. Gisela had a kind of fascination with donuts because they don't really have many different kinds of donuts in Germany, I guess. She turned into the parking lot, excited because I'd been talking about how good the donuts are in Hollywood, but the donut shop was closed.

To continue to Griffith Park, we needed to make a pretty difficult left turn. Seeing that it might take a while, I told Gisela I knew of another donut shop the other way, near Hollywood and Highland. It wouldn't be too far out of the way, if she wanted to give it a try. That sounded good to her, so she made a right turn on Hollywood and we set off to another donut shop. At Highland we took a right, and after a block we were there.

We each had three donuts. She got a lemon-filled donut with chocolate icing, a maple bar, and a raspberry filled donut. I got a Boston Creme (custard w/chocolate icing), a glazed buttermilk bar, and some kind of bear claw with chocolate icing and chocolate chips. Gisela scarfed her donuts down faster than I could finish half of mine, then she went to the mall across the street to find a memory card thingy for her camera.

After our donut feast, we no longer needed to find a shady place to eat lunch, but we went on to Griffith Park anyway. In the observatory parking lot, I, the designated photographer, noticed Gisela's batteries were about to die. Long story short... I ended up sitting around in the observatory for about an hour or two while she plugged her AA battery charger into an electrical outlet.

From Hollywood we took Santa Monica Boulevard to Santa Monica. As we neared Santa Monica, I thought about Venice Beach and pointed Gisela in the right direction, hoping we could get there in daylight so she could see the wonder that is Venice Beach. I'd never been there at night, so I didn't know what to expect after the sun goes down. Well, by the time we got there, it was getting dark and nearly all of Venice Beach's characters were gone for the night. The stores and shops were nearly all closed or closing, too.

If only we hadn't sat around forever at Griffith Observatory, waiting for the batteries to charge.

So we walked a mile or two of Venice Beach, then we turned around and went back to the road that turns into a pier. When we got back to the road, Gisela asked me if I wanted to get a beer. I said sure. So we went to some upstairs bar that I've actually been to before, about ten years ago with my old Vegas buddy Kyle Johnson. I ordered a Bass and Gisela had a Stella Artois.

Shortly after our arrival, we began talking to our bar neighbor. It was a 26-year-old guy named Pete who is a boat captain. He works out of Marina Del Ray, I think, operating rich people's yachts because they don't know how to do it themselves. Anyway, handsome Pete seemed to be a pretty lonely guy who spends much of his time drowning his sorrows in adult beverages. Hopefully Gisela and I helped raise his spirits for a little while.

Finishing our beers, Gisela and I headed back to Malibu much earlier than we had the previous night, which was good for me because I was tired as hell. She dropped me off in the same spot as before and told me to be ready at 8:00 or 8:30.

The next morning (Wednesday), I rode with Gisela to the car rental place near LAX. After dropping off her Suzuki Forenza, as she waited for her airport shuttle, we hugged and said goodbye. Then she was gone.

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Aimless
Aimless Video Evidence

A Hennessy billboard showing a

A Hennessy billboard showing a white guy with a guitar! What's wrong with this ad? Answer below.

Beat the Buckeyes?

With no football game this weekend, the USC band is getting ready for the Buckeyes. Sounds like they'll be playing some Stevie Wonder at halftime in nine days. With one song they're playing, I think the lyrics go: "You can feel it all over." I know the song; I just don't know what it's called. The other song they've been working on is "Isn't she lovely." When I walked over here, they were working on some Raiders of the Lost Ark. I'd assume that was for a different show because Stevie Wonder and John Williams just don't go together. The football team is practicing on a practice field just west the band's field. I've heard Pete Carroll holds open practices, so I might have to sneak a peek someday soon.

Cambria, California, Part 2

If you haven't read Part 1 of this post yet, read it here.

After pulling up to the ranch house near Cambria and talking to the two women Saturday, Gisela was away from the car with the women for maybe 15 minutes while I sat in the car. When she finally returned to the car, she let me know what was up, but I had figured it out already: We had a pretty nice place to stay for the night.

Once Gisela relocated her rental car to a spot beside the guest house, I gathered up all my stuff and carried it inside. Soon I took my first shower in 18 days--another new record, by a day. In the shower I watched all the dirt run off my body and down to the drain as I washed myself. Then I washed myself again just to be sure everything was AOK. When you haven’t had a shower in 18 days, you don’t come out until you’re nice and wrinkled like a raisin, first of all because you want to make sure you’ve accomplished your objective, but also because you just want to feel the warm water spray down upon you for as long as possible.

When I got out of the shower, I gathered up all my dirty clothes and took them to the guest house’s laundry area, along with a couple items that Gisela wanted washed. Boy I needed that. I’m not sure I’d even met our hosts at this point.

Eventually I made my way out of the guest house and got to know our hosts. There were three hosts, although only two of them live on the ranch. The ranch owners are a married couple in their late 50s, Jon ("Yon") and Lindy Pedotti. Our other host was Lindy’s sister, Leisa ("Lisa"), who lives in San Luis Obispo. I can’t remember her last name right now.

After our showers, Gisela and I were both hungry, so she asked Lindy where we might get something to eat. Lindy told us the Main Street Grill in Cambria is a pretty good place to eat, so we set off to Cambria. When we arrived, Gisela told me she’d pay for my meal, up to $8, as long as I didn’t order anything with meat. If I ordered any meat, I’d have to pay for it myself.

You have no idea how badly I was craving meat at this point. For several days, my diet had consisted essentially of apples, English muffins, and peanut butter (and not much of any of it). I wanted to pig out, and I wanted to pig out on beef or chicken or just about any kind of meat. But I was screwed. Not just because Gisela wouldn’t let me order meat but because this restaurant’s menu had hardly any items without meat. There were a couple veggie sandwiches and some salads on the menu, but I don’t eat salad and I didn’t want a veggie sandwich. That left me with essentially one option: French fries and garlic bread. So I ordered a basket of fries and some garlic bread, which added up to about $5.

About those fries… The Main Street Grill has two sizes of fries: regular and basket. I figured my basket of fries would be reasonably big, but I had no idea just how big, especially because they were only $3 or so. Anyway, their basket of fries takes up at least as much volume as a bowling ball. I’m talking major shitloads of fries here, y’all.

If you ever pass through Cambria, be sure to visit the Main Street Grill. It’s one of the few restaurants out there that does it right; it’s a well-oiled machine. I’m not saying their food is spectacular or anything like that. It might be, but I don’t know because all I've eaten is their fries. Anyway, this restaurant is happening. It has a wide open kitchen, nice prices, and an efficient flow. No pretentious table service requiring you to tip someone for doing what you'd rather do yourself. It's just one of those special places, like "Ryan’s Pizzeria" would be, if it existed.

I didn't spend much time talking to our hosts Saturday night because bedtime crept up quickly. Gisela slept on the bed and I slept on a couch.

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Sunday morning I stepped outside and heard someone call my name from around the corner of the guest house, at the main house. A woman’s voice asked, "Ryan, are you going to come over and have breakfast?" A moment later, Lindy came around the corner and told me they were fixing up breakfast in the kitchen. Breakfast was scrambled eggs fresh from the farm, with a mixture of cooked vegetables and chopped ham, and English muffins. Lindy told me Jon always loves a good excuse to cook up a nice breakfast, and today Gisela and I were the excuse he needed.

After breakfast, we all chatted for a long time in the main house. You have no idea how cool these people are. To welcome total strangers into their home like this, and then to treat us with such hospitality. It was amazing. Really good people.

Early in the afternoon that day, after deciding to hang around the farm for one more night, Gisela and I headed up the road to Hearst Castle, where I ended up sitting around trying to pass time for about four hours. I sure wish I'd taken the laptop, instead of leaving it back at the farm with most of my other stuff.

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Showdown

Ah yeah, this is where it all goes down in ten days. The Ohio State Buckeyes versus the University of Southern California Trojans at the Los Angeles Memorial Coliseum. #2 vs. #3. A preview of this year's national championship game, perhaps? (I'll tell you one thing right now: Current #1 Georgia won't be playing in the second week of January.) You can bet I'll be back on the premises for the big game. Think I'll get into the game? Well, I'm 2 for 2 so far at OSU road games and I have plenty of time to develop a good strategy. I have some good ideas brewing already. Maybe I'll hang around the USC band practices for several days. Maybe I'll make a sign that says "Hitchhiked 6,000+ miles for your extra ticket." Maybe I'll just have the magic touch. I'll figure out a way to get into this game. Go Bucks!

Correction: Make that #1 vs. #3 and Georgia at #2.

Louisiana

To my friends and acquaintances in Louisiana, I hope you're all right, as I've heard there is another hurricane heading your way. Be careful, y'all, and stay safe. I'm thinking about you.

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Cambria, California

Friday afternoon I walked out of Carmel toward Big Sur. Many miles down the road, as I walked that evening, I started feeling a pain on the right side of my torso, in the area of my lowest rib. It didn’t bother me too much that night, but the morning would be a different story.

I woke up Saturday morning thinking I might try to walk 20 miles, but my rib had other plans. Even though I hadn’t had any traumatic impacts to the rib, I was beginning to think I’d somehow managed to break it. After only a mile, the pain became pretty intense, so I found a very out-of-place piece of cardboard and decided to hang out in a parking area overlooking the ocean, hoping to get a ride toward LA.

On the cardboard I wrote ‘SOUTH’ and stuck it on my backpack, which was propped up against a guardrail, so the southbound drivers could see my sign. Eventually I wrote ‘(INJURED)’ below SOUTH, but thousands of drivers drove on by anyway. Of the dozens or hundreds of cars that stopped in the parking area right beside me, no one even spoke to me.

After about six hours, finally someone spoke to me. It was a fortysomething woman with a European accent. She introduced herself as Gisela (GEE-suh-luh) and said she was from Germany. Gisela told me she’d been cautioned not to pick up hitchhikers but gave me a ride anyway, saying she was going to Big Sur.

Big Sur came and went, yet still I rode in the black Suzuki with Gisela. Stopping at many roadside parking areas to take pictures of the coast, she gave me the job of telling her not to stop unless it had been at least ten minutes since the previous stop. I didn’t like that job, so I let her stop whenever she wanted.

When I told Gisela about the pain in my rib area, she asked me if I thought it might be something with my kidney. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t considered that already, especially because I’ve had a couple kidney stones this year, with the most recent only a couple weeks ago. It made sense that the pain could have been another kidney stone, or at least something involving the kidney, because I don’t pee a lot when I‘m on the road. Even though I drink up to two gallons of water a day, I sweat most of it out, which means not much fluid makes it to my kidneys. But I guess this pain was a lot different than that of a kidney stone, so I was left stumped and in pain.

As we approached San Simeon, Gisela became more focused on trying to find a campground because she really wanted to see Hearst Castle, but all the campgrounds displayed signs indicating they were fully booked. San Simeon State Park’s campground displayed the same sign, but Gisela drove up to the guard shack anyway, just to see if there were any cancellations. Nope.

The lady at the guard shack gave us a list of the nearest campgrounds, but the closest one was 30 miles down the road and Gisela didn’t want to drive that far, partly because gas is over $5 a gallon along the coast. So she decided to drive away from the ocean on San Simeon Creek Road, where we could look for a nice little spot to camp for free.

A mile or so up the road, we came upon a little house. Gisela stopped and talked to the house’s occupant, seeking some local knowledge, but she came up short. Another mile up the road, she stopped at another house and talked to a taxidermist named Denver in the garage. He said he would gladly let us camp in his yard if he only owned the property, but as a renter he just couldn’t make that decision. However, he told Gisela to go another mile up the road, and after a one-lane bridge, take a right. That’s where the ranch owners live.

So we continued up San Simeon Creek Road for another mile, crossed the one-lane bridge, and took a right into the driveway just beyond. Pulling up to the house, still in daylight, there were two women outside in the garden area. Gisela got out of the car and began talking to them while I stayed in the car. From my vantage point inside the car, the women gave a clearly warm welcome to the German stranger, and within a minute or two, one of the women said, “Well, let me show you the guest house.”

I will continue this story if I get a chance. By the way, my rib area still hurts like hell and I have no idea what’s causing it. I’m starting to worry that it might be something serious.

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Dee-ah-nah

Thursday evening after walking through Monterey's Cannery Row, I stopped to take a break and eat at an oceanside park. After talking to a homeless guy for a bit, a totally gorgeous young woman approached me and asked me if I would take some pictures of her (with her camera) by the ocean and on the rocks and stuff. With an accent I couldn't place, her looks told me she might be from Italy or Spain, but she was German. Her name was "Dee-ah-nah." (I didn't get the spelling.) We talked for a little bit, then from out of nowhere, she said she had to go. And she was gone. Probably for the best. --> That night I slept on a beach a couple miles from the park, about 30 feet from the ocean, sans tent. No one bothered me. --> Friday, in the middle of a very long walk, I got a ride into Carmel with a real estate agent named Patrick, I think. He drove a Land Rover or a Range Rover or something; my
second career ride in a high-end vehicle. --> I took this pic somewhere between Carmel and Big Sur.

San Simeon

I'm at the 'staging center' for tours of the Hearst Castle (which is somewhere in that picture) right now, with Gisela. Gisela is a German high school teacher. She will be taking the tour; I will not be taking the tour. I have a lot to say about the last few days, but I don't have my laptop right now because I left it back at the farm. The farm? Yeah, the farm. That's part of the story; a really good part of the story. Haven't been able to say anything lately because I was in the middle of nowhere for a couple days. I should be able to catch up a little when we get back to the farm. --> To the anonymous loserfucks who sometimes feel the need to talk shit about me in comments: You are total pussies who wish you had the balls to get out here and do what I do. Fuck you and please allow yourselves to have an original thought someday.

Big droopy titties

Well, I finally got a ride yesterday after my road ended at the 101, south of Gilroy, leaving me with nowhere to walk. The ride was from a local woman named Brandy, who was wearing a tank top (or wife-beater) with no bra. Functionally she was topless, because every time she moved, if I was looking at her, I caught an unwanted glimpse of a big, droopy, ugly titty. I like getting a sneak peek at a nice pair of titties just as much as any other hetero dude, but these weren't nice titties. The ride only got me about five miles down the road, to a pretty bad exit. Additionally, I'm out of food and I have nowhere to get more food. --> So here's a pic of my new backpack. I usually can't make it stand up like this because the sleeping bag compartment at the bottom is too small, which sucks. Mostly I really like this backpack, but it's already starting to come apart in a couple places (after
less than two weeks of really using it). I'll probably end up exchanging it for a new one.

Downtown Gilroy looks like the

Downtown Gilroy looks like the perfect place for my pizzeria that will never exist.

Coastal California

In the coastal region of California between San Francisco and Los Angeles, including those cities, the local people just will not stop to offer you a ride, regardless of how deep you may be in the middle of BFE (Butt-Fucking Egypt). Right now I can only remember receiving rides from six people in that area. (I think that's all of them; they were all last year.) Three of those drivers were from New York; two of them were from Mexico, one of which didn't speak English but still found enough kindness in his heart to give a white boy a ride and $5; and the other ride was with three 20-ish British guys touring California for about a month. --> North of San Francisco it's a totally different story, though. In northern California, people will wait in line to give you a ride and a big fat joint. --> Right now I'm walking south on Monterey Road, about 20 miles south of San Jose. I should be
about to Gilroy (the garlic capital of the world!) tonight if I don't get a ride.

Busted!

I was handcuffed yesterday for the first time in my life. It wasn't really a big deal, though; I wasn't arrested or anything. It was just a rookie CHP officer learning how to do his job. Why was I handcuffed, you may ask. Well, because I was walking along the 101 freeway south of San Jose. As is the norm when cops 'pull me over' on the freeway, these guys gave me a ride to the next exit (which was less than a mile from where they found me). It made sense for them to cuff me because unlike most police cruisers I've ridden in, theirs had no barrier between the front and back seats. It also had much more leg room than the typical cruiser, I might add. --> Shortly after my encounter with Ponch & John, I stepped into a McDonald's to fill a water bottle. Seeing Bill Maher on Larry King, I took a seat and was soon joined by a guy named Eric (Zamora?) after he inquired about my gear. We talked
for like two and a half hours. Very cool guy. I've walked all the way from SF, with much zig-zagging.

Aimless is not a love

Aimless is not a love story. Forget the rest of the story because it was too perfect to be real.

Looks like Stanford University is

Looks like Stanford University is going to make an excellent campground tonight.

No comments?

Are y'all telling me none of my recent posts are worthy of comments? Do I have to be an asshole to get comments or something?

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Are there still any Berkeley

Are there still any Berkeley students out there reading this? Or Billy Lieberknecht? If so, I'll be there in about an hour. Call me or something.

All the way

Here's a picture of Vernon. By the way, I'm still riding with him, even though he went to Buffalo while I was at the truck stop near Erie last weekend. We're leaving Dallas and heading to San Leandro, CA. --> Last night when we arrived in Dallas and exited the interstate to deliver some engines to an International plant, there was a dude unconscious in his car at a stop light. There was an older guy in another lane who had already stopped to check on him; I think he was talking to 911 when we stopped. After Vernon and I got out of the truck, I stood by the unconscious driver's window as a fire truck approached. Before the firemen arrived, the driver regained consciousness but had no idea what was going on. When his foot came off the brake pedal, he began coasting into the intersection, so I yelled in the window for him to pull the parking brake. Still not quite awake, he pulled the
lever after several seconds. He seemed more alert by then, so we took off, leaving him with the firemen.

Vernon

Leaving home Thursday July 31 just after 5:00, I embarked on a 17-mile walk to I-70 Exit 79 (Ohio), where there is a TA, a Pilot, and several fast food joints. By Friday afternoon I’d arrived at the exit, where the excessive heat and humidity had me pretty beat. Hanging around the TA fuel islands for a few hours that evening, I didn’t get a ride, but that was OK because I wanted another night of good rest before hopping into some stranger’s truck. So I found a nice place to sleep pretty early that night.

Uncomfortable with TA’s layout, I crossed the overpass Saturday morning to check out the Pilot station. Although I usually prefer TA over Pilot, I liked this particular Pilot station, partly because I found out right away that the management had no problem with me being there, as long as I wasn’t bugging drivers for money, which I never do. After a few hours with no ride offers, I walked back across the interstate for a light (cheap) lunch at McDonald’s, then returned to Pilot, where a driver immediately asked me where I was headed.

When I responded “Anywhere,” Vernon Mack told me he was going to Buffalo, then gave me the signal to come on over and get in the truck. So I climbed up into the truck and put my stuff in the sleeper, and we were gone.

A few minutes after we hit the road, Vernon, who is black with some Cherokee, German, and other blood, began telling me about one of his previous jobs. For ten years he worked at Warner Brothers Studios in LA, doing security for live-audience TV shows, a job he acquired after a chance encounter with Queen Latifah, who was largely unknown at the time. Even though I had not even mentioned my interest in making movies, Vernon proceeded to tell me about how I could land an entry-level job at WB, which could lead to cooler jobs like editing. He told me who to talk to and stuff like that. It’s something I’ll definitely look into whenever I get to LA.

Vernon’s load was bound for Connecticut, but he planned to spend almost a full day in Buffalo first, visiting his mom and various other friends and family. By the time we neared Buffalo, Vernon and I had established a healthy rapport. So instead of dropping me off in Buffalo, as was the initial plan, he ended up inviting me to hang out with him and his people, which I did. He also invited me to keep riding with him beyond Buffalo, which was a fine idea with me.

On our night in Buffalo, Vernon parked the truck behind his mother’s inner-city apartment. Shortly we rode with his sister to her house, where we hung out with her husband and one of her husband’s old friends for a while, drinking a couple screwdrivers and having some nice conversation. Eventually one of Vernon’s cousins (Cliff) showed up and took us to a barber shop in another primarily black neighborhood, where we met yet another cousin, Tony (who owns the barber shop), before going off to an apartment in downtown Buffalo, where we hung out and imbibed all night.

The next day, as we sat on the porch of the housing project where he grew up (and where his mom still lives), Vernon pointed to a third-floor apartment in the next building and told me that’s where Rick James lived before he hit the big time. Vernon had a lot of stories to tell about Rick James and some other characters that came from Buffalo’s projects, but I can’t remember enough to retell them.

Late Sunday afternoon we hit the road again, heading east from Buffalo on I-90 to southern Massachusetts, then south into Connecticut, where we spent the night before dropping the load and picking up a new load in New Haven.

Monday afternoon we passed through Norwalk, CT, where I spent a month in 1994 with Katie Hemingway before she broke my heart and sent me home. This was the first time I’ve been to Connecticut since then. Less than an hour later, in the Bronx, traffic crept along at a snail’s pace for about an hour before finally picking up some momentum in the upper tip of Manhattan as we approached the George Washington Bridge, where I finally got a good look at the beautiful and amazing metropolis of New York City. I ♥ NY, so it was difficult for me to just ride right through the city, then watch it slowly disappear from across the Hudson River in New Jersey.

Eventually I could no longer see NYC, so I turned my attention to ugly, industrial New Jersey. Soon we neared Philadelphia, but I never saw Philly because we stayed on the toll road east of the city, in the Garden State. In a nearly never-ending chain of cities that I suppose begins north/northeast of Boston, we continued until the morning hours, passing through Wilmington, then Baltimore, then the outskirts of Washington, DC, then Richmond. Only after Richmond did the hundreds of miles of continuous city finally come to an end. Finally, in the wee hours of Tuesday morning, we arrived near the home of another one of Vernon’s cousins (Brad) in Raleigh, NC, where we watched some TV and slept until late in the morning.

Our trailer full of used automobile tires was destined for a small shop in Columbia, SC. As we headed toward Columbia, Vernon called the shop and found out that they close at 4:30, which meant we could not get there in time to make the delivery that day. So we pulled into a Flying J on the north side of Columbia sometime that evening and had plenty of time to relax and sleep before making the delivery Wednesday morning.

Compared to Buffalo and the rest of the northeast United States, which had beautiful weather while we were there, Columbia was HOT!!! I saw a digital sign somewhere that said it was 106 degrees. Consequently, I was glad we’d be heading north again. For the next delivery, we had to pick up in Florence, SC and deliver to Birdsboro, PA (Reading), where we did not arrive until about 3:30 Thursday morning, partly thanks to a couple dumb-ass drivers in Baltimore who, after turning their cars into accordions and basically closing the interstate, probably still haven’t learned why it’s not a smart idea to ride the ass of the car you’re following.

Thursday we picked up another load near Bethel, PA and took it to Bradford, PA (home of Zippo lighters), where we spent the night. Vernon was looking forward to a weekend in Buffalo, so Friday afternoon he went a little bit out of his way to drop me off at a truck stop in Harborcreek (Erie), PA, where I finally was able to finish writing this post (but couldn’t send it because there is no free wifi).

I was at the truck stop until yesterday afternoon. Now I'm in Kentucky, on my way to Dallas.

Unless I just can’t find any time to type, I plan to write more about my adventures with Vernon. So keep an eye out.

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Aimless
Aimless Video Evidence

Columbia South Carolina

I've been riding with Vernon ever since Ohio. We had a delivery to Columbia, South Carolina this morning, and now it looks like we're going back to Pennsylvania, near Philly. I have a lengthy draft of a blog post taking shape in the laptop, but I'm not finished drafting it and it's not always easy to find free WiFi when you're riding around in a truck. (Most truck stops have WiFi, but you have to pay $15 to $20 monthly to access it. That's total bullshit.)

Raleigh, Norph Carolina.

Raleigh, Norph Carolina.

New York City!

New York City!

We're now in Springfield, Assumchusetts,

We're now in Springfield, Assumchusetts, about to enter Connecticut. I'm still riding with Vernon, who picked me up in Ohio. More to say later.

Being so close to home,

Being so close to home, I switched to "Anywhere" mode, rather than heading west right away. As a result, I'm on my way to Buffalo.

On the road again

I'll be back on the road within a couple hours. I just have to do a few more things before I'm all ready to go. Even though I could be ready to go by noonish, I think I'm going to wait until mid-afternoon, to avoid the hottest part of the day and to give myself a half-day to ease back into things.

I have a new backpack, which I think will make a HUGE difference in a whole bunch of ways. (For example, my attitude. Let's hope, anyway.) Unlike my huge Kelty Red Cloud 6650, which is only available in one size, the Gregory Palisade 80 (Medium) is made to fit me. I feel like the new pack has a superior design, in terms of comfort and ergonomics. With most of the pack's weight resting above my butt (on my lumbar?), it just feels right, even when I don't have it adjusted well. Instead of dragging the pack with most of the weight digging into my shoulders, which is how I felt with the Kelty pack after several miles each day, this pack feels like it's a part of me. I can adjust it so it barely even touches my shoulders, and I can even run while carrying it.

I have jettisoned A LOT of stuff from my pack, making the load about 7 lbs lighter than it was on my most recent venture. Some of the items I removed:

2 cotton t-shirts (9 oz each);
Tripod (21 oz);
Electric shaver (9.5 oz);
4 pairs of socks (10 oz); and
Condiments and stuff left over from the MREs (9 oz.).

I also removed a lot of smaller things that add up to a lot of weight, like a Drakkar bathroom bag, flashlight (I still have an LED headlamp), small bottle of Listerine, sunscreen, Purell, waterproof pack cover, and "other crap." Additionally, I replaced several items, trimming a few ounces here and there. I replaced my denim jeans with lightweight, convertible pants, which weigh 11 oz less than the jeans.

But some of my new stuff is actually heavier than what it's replacing. My new tent, for example, is about 12 oz heavier than my old one. Oh, but it's worth an extra 3/4 of a pound. For starters, it's much easier to set up than the other tent. Also, the canopy's mesh is considerably more durable than the other tent. Unlike the other tent's canopy, I'd have to be very abusive to put any holes in this one. But what really makes the new tent great is the extra room. There is tons of room for me to move around or sit up, and there is plenty of space inside for both me and my gear. This tent is awesome!

Not all of my gear swaps are so easy to assess, though. For example, I've replaced a desert camo Army jacket (given to me by a young Iraq War vet in Mississippi) with a down jacket and a fleece top, adding about 18 oz to my pack weight. However, I can use the jacket(s) as a pillow, so I don't need to take my compressible pillow (13 oz) this time. As a result, I've added about 5 oz to the total pack weight, but I no longer need to avoid or worry about very low temperatures. Plus the down jacket feels awesome!

For the first time ever, I feel really good about my gear situation. I'm pretty much equipped to go anywhere in the United States at any time of year now. But with the showdown between the Buckeyes and the Trojans coming up in mid September at the Los Angeles Memorial Coliseum, you can bet I'll be heading to SoCal pretty quickly.

My injuries have not healed 100 percent, but they're getting close. I'd say both my hand and my toe feel about 90% healed. They feel pretty good; good enough to get back on the road without feeling handicapped or otherwise affected.

One more thing for now: No credit card this time. Even though it might be smart for me to have a credit card for emergencies, I'm leaving it behind because it is too tempting and I think it compromises the integritah of this project.

--
Aimless
Aimless Video Evidence

Introspection

I've said a lot of stupid and embarrassing things on this blog over the last two years; some things I'd like to take back and other things that just came out wrong. Considering I am a very introspective individual who tries to learn from my own mistakes as well as other people's mistakes, I assure you my future blog posts will be...









[Scroll on down.]









...just as ass-brained, profane, and embarrassing as they've ever been!!!

FUCK YEAH!

---

With my hand nearly healed and my toe getting better, I expect to be back on the road within about ten days, maybe sooner. This time I do not plan to return "home" in October. In fact, once I hit the road again, I'll have no plans of returning to central Ohio at all--not even for Christmas--unless I end up here randomly.

Come November, I would like to vote, but I'm not sure I'll be able to arrange that.

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Aimless
Aimless Video Evidence

Setback?

When I got the cast off my arm last week, I mentioned my toe injury to the doctor. He said I should put tape around the two smallest toes. I didn't do it.

So today I jammed my little toe again and it hurts like hell. It feels like I totally nullified the past two weeks of healing. You don't realize how important your little toe is until you injure it like this, then try to walk.

I was planning on hitting the road again in about two weeks (with a fresher, more positive attitude), but I fear this re-injury may set me back a little. That sucks.

--
Aimless
Aimless Video Evidence

Broken bones and Pittsburgh

Wow. Until the last week, I had no idea how difficult it is to regain mobility after wearing a cast for less than three weeks. I've had my cast off for a week now, but my ring finger (which was not even injured) is still very stiff and immobile. I can move it reasonably well, but I still can't do much with it.

I guess when your tendons are completely inactive for a while, they shrink. That's what it feels like, anyway. I don't know because I didn't ask. (I didn't ask because I didn't realize I was facing such a long recovery.)

The only other time I've ever had to wear a cast was when I was ten years old, when a broken beer bottle severed five tendons in my wrist. That time, considering surgeons had to overlap my tendons to stitch them back together, it naturally took quite a while to recover mobility in my hand and fingers. (I think they had to make the tendons overlap, anyway.) Also, I had to wear the cast for much longer that time; two months maybe.

The broken bone has not healed fully yet, but it's not really giving me any trouble; just a little pain here and there. It has taken a lot of work, however, just to get my uninjured ring finger almost back to normal.

---

About ten days ago, after taking a clumsy step at the top of the stairs, I jammed the little toe on my right foot... really hard. As much as it hurt when I did it, I immediately hoped I'd just bruised or sprained the area around the toe. However, ten days later, I'm 95 percent sure I broke it, too, because it still hurts like hell and it's still causing me to limp when I walk.

Urgh! This is frustrating, especially because my sense of balance was already shaky after carrying my heavy-ass backpack 600 miles in two and a half months. When you carry a heavy backpack around for so long and then stop, you don't just get your balance back in a day or a week. It takes a really long time to get your coordination back. I don't think I have felt normal walking without the backpack since April 2007.

---

I went to Pittsburgh for the first time in my life yesterday because there is an REI store there. Almost the exact same distance from the REI stores in Detroit and Ann Arbor (the whore), I decided to go to Pittsburgh mostly because the drive from here to The State Up North (MI) is really boring and generally unfun.

One thing I realized on my way there is that a lot of Ohio is actually very pretty. That would be eastern (and southeastern) Ohio. Because I have rarely been in eastern Ohio, most of "my Ohio" could be best described as "Nebraska with some trees." But basically once you get east of Columbus, it starts getting very pretty. Although I've lived in and around Columbus most of my life, I've rarely had much reason to venture very far east of downtown.

Entering Pittsburgh from the south, you don't feel like you're in a big city; you don't even feel like you're close to a big city. There is no visible sprawl of suburbs, and the hills (mini mountains) keep you from seeing downtown from afar. Then you go through a reasonably long tunnel through a hill and BAM! there it is: Downtown Pittsburgh.

So the first time I ever saw downtown Pittsburgh (except from 35,000 feet in the sky) was from about half a mile away. Cool way to see a city for the first time.

Pittsburgh seems to be a very pretty, interesting city. I can't say for sure, though, because I didn't get much opportunity to see it.

A word of caution: If you have never driven in Pittsburgh, DON'T!!! But if you do choose to drive in Pittsburgh for the first time, make sure you study a map of the city inside and out for a few months before you go there. Make sure you know all the roads and all the curves. Zoom in on a satellite map so you can see what it's like up close. And when you finally go there for the first time, plan to arrive at a time when traffic should be lite.

There are tons of twists and turns in Pittsburgh. There are multiple horizontal planes of roadway and traffic in Pittsburgh, which may intersect but not necessarily connect to each other. There are lots of tunnels, each of which go somewhere.

In other words, Pittsburgh is not like any other city I've ever driven in.

--
Aimless
Aimless Video Evidence

Cast away

I got my cast/splint off this morning. The bone is still a few weeks from being completely healed, but it is much better than before. When they took off the cast, my ring finger was totally stiff and angled away from the middle finger (as if I was a humanoid TV alien greeting someone). An hour later, it's still very stiff, but I can move it a little bit.

My brain has recently begun mega-processing the sensory overload from my latest travels. This is tough because it floods me with a million "repressed" memories and emotions all at once, many of which are not pleasant, like much of what I witnessed in New Orleans. This is hard to explain; it's probably nearly impossible to comprehend if you've never traveled how I travel. I suppose it's something like PTSD because it is very traumatic. Seriously. Maybe I'll try to explain in better detail when my hand becomes more mobile.

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Aimless
Aimless Video Evidence

Life decisions

Even when I first came up with the idea for Aimless, I never expected the project to make me rich or famous. I always knew I was a major underdog because I am an amateur with amateur equipment and no connections.

All I had was hope. I hoped people would help me spread the word to reach a larger audience. I hoped people would recognize my insight so I could somehow reach the right person (or persons), who would subsequently become the connection I needed to make something out of this. I hoped calling it as I see it (instead of watering things down to present an entirely safe, rah rah, "America: Fuck Yeah!" story) would be compelling to people.

In other words, I ran Aimless much like the typical small business owner runs their failing business, hoping to reach a market that may or may not exist. Unlike small business owners, however, I could afford to do this because I didn't have a couple hundred grand riding on the success of my project. I had essentially nothing to lose by doing it my way.

I am very well aware that my style of conducting Aimless breaks almost all the rules of operating a successful conventional business; I always have been. But there has never been a "business" like Aimless, and I will not allow myself to tell a manufactured happy story instead of the real story. I will not disguise my true thoughts and feelings (which I know make me look like a total fuckface sometimes) to make myself appear as a heroic protagonist.

I am not a heroic protagonist!

---

There is so much completely stupid programming (presented as educational documentaries) on TV these days. To begin, we have Ghost Hunters, UFO Hunters, Paranormal State, and that show about psychic children. On each episode of each show, the premise is that someone is investigating something paranormal and will eventually present some kind of evidence of that paranormal activity. They keep you in suspense, making you believe there will eventually be some kind of answer or breakthrough, and then the show ends. It's like a soap opera, except they just leave you hanging forever because there is no next part; there is no answer. Yet with absolutely no evidence that there was ever even anything to investigate, the "investigators" always leave the spooky place and act like they accomplished something. (In reality, there's not even a problem, except for the things people made up in their heads. The only thing that makes these shows appear remotely, almost, sorta legit is the spooky noises dubbed onto the video in post-production.)

It's fucking ridiculous and totally unentertaining.

Then you have the "Modern-Marvels-turned-drama" shows, like Ice Road Truckers and some others I can't even name. Ice Road Truckers was a great topic for one episode of Modern Marvels, but it is a fucking stupid soap opera, just like all the other shows in that genre. Even Deadliest Catch, which I used to like, has become completely pointless.

I can't even begin to tell you how much more interesting an Aimless TV series would be than all the crap on TV today. Yes, even with my filthy mouth and unrefined demeanor. (Check out Anthony Bourdain. He's the fucking man!) You wouldn't believe the shit I see. You wouldn't believe the shit I do. You wouldn't believe the people I meet. And shit wouldn't even need to be edited to make it seem outrageous; my travels are 100 times more outrageous than any of that ultra-edited bullshit they're trying to make you believe is real.

I mean, I watched a new travel show last night with a host who is a "veteran travel guide." He told me Hoover Dam is on the border of California and Arizona... Your TV so easily makes you stupid.

All I'm saying is that Aimless would blow people's minds if they had access to it. No bullshit. No editing tricks. No catering budget. No lodging budget. Just an incredible expose of one guy's life as a traveling bum.

Unfortunately, I'm the only person who knows how incredible and entertaining it would be, and I don't know the right people.

---

Even without use of my normally good hand, I make the best-tasting pizza I've ever eaten. Even after a three-month hiatus in pizza-making, I make the best-tasting pizza I've ever eaten. Even with substandard equipment, I make the best-tasting pizza I've ever eaten. Even after eating literally thousands of my own pizzas, I make the best-tasting pizza I've ever eaten.

I'm not one of the best documentarians on the planet. I'm not one of the best bowlers on the planet. I'm not one of the best bloggers on the planet. I'm not one of the best hobos on the planet. I'm not even one of the best tramps on the planet.

But I make some of the best pizza on the planet and I know how to sell it and I know how to create happy customers that would return again and again for my pizza. Unfortunately, I don't have the resources to make that scenario a reality and I don't have anyone to back me in my efforts to make that scenario a reality. My parents have the resources to use me to make themselves rich (or at least very comfortable). They love eating my pizza, too. But they also think I'm the stupidest motherfucker that's ever walked this planet. Don't ask me why; it's just something they decided when I was just a kid, and nothing will ever change their minds about it.

If you've ever read the "supportive" comments from my dad, usually under the handle of "Twerky," "Gorf," "Anonymous," et al, it's all bullshit. Five minutes after he picked me up two weeks ago, he told me it's good that I was coming home because I've just been wasting my time out there. Less than 24 hours later, he told me to get out of his home.

Fuck You, Larry Steven Powell! You are no longer welcome to read this blog. You are no longer welcome in my life. You are a fucking piece of shit who has fucked my head for as long as I've been alive. I don't even know how to handle success or friendship because you've treated me like a failure (and physically abused me) since the day I was born. I know why I hate you, but I have no fucking idea why you've always hated me. I will be out of your precious house as soon as my hand heals, and I ain't never coming back.

That sad thing is, I'll probably cry when you die.

---

I'll probably hit the road again whenever my hand heals because I no longer have a home. Will I blog? I don't know. All I know is that I have a better chance of meeting someone who'll recognize my talents on the road than I do here. But for all I care, I'll be dead within a year.

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Aimless
Aimless Video Evidence

First time

This is the first time I've touched a computer in over two weeks. I'm going to try to say some stuff in another post to follow, but it'll probably take quite a while because my right hand--my normally good hand--is about as useful as a tree branch right now. I can't even use it to control a mouse. Oh, and showering is real fucking fun.

I'd love to upload a picture of the original X-ray, because the doctor said the two parts of my bone were at a 30-degree angle, but I haven't even seen the X-ray. I think I'm supposed to get the cast/splint removed next Wednesday.

--
Aimless
Aimless Video Evidence
Call me sometime; I get lonely. 614-738-3867

A little gimpy

I have a whole bunch to say, but as you may have guessed already, I can't really type right now because I broke my hand.

I threw in the towel.

I threw in the towel. My dad's coming to get me (about 30 miles) because my inadequate equipment causes constant, intense pain. I'm finished...

Long-ass walk today. One mile

Long-ass walk today. One mile into it, I feel shitty and my feet hurt (probably because my soles are nearly bare).

After spending all that time

After spending all that time in New Orleans, it feels weird to walk through an urban neighborhood with houses and people.

Lima, Ohio

Lima, Ohio

Franklin, Kentucky

We're staying in Franklin, Kentucky tonight.

In Memphis today, some dumb-ass on a crotch rocket damn near got himself killed right in front of us. Bobbing and weaving his way through interstate traffic, he passed us on the left then cut over in front of us at the same time the pickup ahead of him was getting over. Seeing how he was going about 20 MPH faster than everyone else on the highway, he only had a split second to react. The stupid fuck is really lucky he didn't get sideswiped by the pickup and then run over by an International 18-wheeler. Nonetheless, he continued bobbing and weaving his way through the traffic ahead of us.

Seeing this guy almost bite the dust, I got that "Oh Fuck" feeling in my chest and stomach. It was that feeling you get whenever you have a close call of your own, when you feel like you just missed dying by a hair. But after seeing the dipshit race off into the horizon, I almost wish he'd just eaten the asphalt right in front of me. It's going to happen sooner or later, anyway. Might as well prevent his genes from making it to the next generation, unless they've already made it.

--
Aimless
Aimless Video Evidence
Call me sometime; I get lonely. 614-738-3867

Anywhere

I made up a sign last night that says "ANYWHERE." Well, anywhere happened to be Jackson, TN this morning. My driver David originally said I'd have to get out in Jackson because he'll be picking up another driver there. But plans have changed. He no longer has to pick up the other driver, so we're going to Ohio, which means I'll probably go home. Will it be home for good or just for a break? I don't know. I don't even know if I'll go home at all.

I'm tired of this

I'm fucking sick of dumbfuck truck stop managers who can't figure out the difference between a sponge and a customer.

I'm fucking sick of being blistered and burned and scabbed and hungry and thirsty and sore and tired and broke and wet and dirty and threatened with guns and...

UNAPPRECIATED!

Most of the people I meet think what I do is cool as fuck. When they meet me and hear my stories, they live a little for once in their lives. For a few moments they experience a second-hand sensation that they always wanted to feel for real but never had the balls to do it.

That's why people give me money. That's why people give me food. People give me things in return for what I've already given them.

Excluding fuckface truck stop managers, of course. They just give me shit.

There's nothing left on the soles of my boots because I've walked a thousand miles in them. My backpack is not right for me, either. I am so ridiculously ill-equipped for this jouurney, it's not even funny.

I'm probably about to quit (and I'm not bullshitting this time.)

So all you lurkers and critics: If you like having Aimless Ryan as your little bitch guinea pig, it's time to show it. Otherwise...

Screw you guys; I'm going home!

--
Aimless
Aimless Video Evidence
Call me sometime; I get lonely. 614-738-3867

A failed experiment

When I came up with the idea for Aimless, one of my major objectives was to make something out of nothing, mostly through the kindness of strangers. While I have received a lot of help from strangers, I’ve received a shitload of help from my family. Too much help.

Excluding the things I bought with the REI gift card I received from a friendly German fellow named Stefan, I’ve received all my gear through help from my family and other people I already knew. In other words, I wouldn’t have made it this far if not for the privileges that come from being a middle class white boy. And no matter what happens from now on, I will never be able to say I made something out of nothing.

Can it be done? Could someone take my original premise and make something out of nothing? Probably, but not this time. The integrity of this project has been compromised. Even if I somehow manage to capitalize on this project, I have failed.

The proof is in the paragraph (as opposed to the jumbled mass of words so characteristic of my phone posts).

--
Aimless
Aimless Video Evidence
Call me sometime; I get lonely. 614-738-3867

Still at Pilot. Wanna go

Still at Pilot. Wanna go anywhere far away. I have written another post on word processor, but can't send it until I get within range of wi-fi.

Baton Rouge Part 2

Before I continue, I want to thank Mom, Dad, and my brother Roman for hooking me up with the laptop. Thanks y'all. Now back to the story... Long story short: Today was freaking hot and humid, like every day around here. Due to very heavy traffic on a narrow bridge, I had to walk over 12 miles just to get 6 or 7 miles. It sucked, but that's how it goes sometimes. Consequently, I now have some new blisters on my ever-blistered arms. --> I arrived at the Pilot station at about 5:00, hoping I could get some wi-fi action on the premises, but no dice. So I sat around playing solitaire and talking to truckers for a while, not too concerned about getting a ride. --> There is wi-fi access at the Days Inn next door, which is where I'm camping right now, but I'm about 50 feet outside the range and I don't want to wander away from all my stuff, which is why you're currently reading another phone
post. --> Lotsa shit on my mind right now. Hopefully I can post these thoughts soon.

Baton Rouge

I woke up yesterday in Gonzalez. Six miles up I-10 I got a ride about ten miles to the Best Buy beside the Mall of Louisiana. Upon reaching the parking lot, I realized I'd been to that particular Best Buy store, too (with Jeff, of course). By the time I arrived, I already knew this store carried the laptop I was looking for, because I asked my mom to call and check. --> I used the credit card to buy the laptop, then I sat at the Rock Star "drum set" for the first time and messed around with some Pixies, Radiohead, Pumpkins, Weezer, and Rush. Kinda fun, but it's nothing like playing those songs on real drums. --> After 20-30 minutes of messing around with Rock Star, I walked to the mall for some AC and a chance to acquaint myself with the computer. However, I never found a good place to plug it in, so I left the mall and headed for I-12 East, in search of a Pilot truck stop I knew was
around somewhere. I suspected the Pilot was at least ten miles away, which Jeff eventually confirmed...

Beautiful night in Baton Rouge.

Beautiful night in Baton Rouge. I put up the tent canopy, but I've been sitting outside for at least an hour. Nice cool breeze and no mosquitoes!

Thought I was closer

I'm walking alongside the interstate because Louisiana doesn't seem to care.

In pursuit of laptop

Having slept across the street from Best Buy in Metairie last night, I went into the store bright and early this morning because my brother and parents have been talking about teaming up to get me some type of small device with internet capabilities. My brother's old laptops are too heavy and the ideal laptop costs $1,800, so a laptop seemed to be out of the question. After a couple phone calls with my brother, we couldn't figure out what would be the best option, so I left Best Buy and started walking west. --> It turns out that Best Buy carries a small, simple, two-pound laptop that costs $400 and should suit my needs, so everyone agreed that I should go ahead and get that one. The Metairie Best Buy actually had this model on display, but I was long gone by the time I received the go-ahead. No problem, I thought; I'll just get one next time I see a Best Buy. But Mom called me from
Best Buy and said not many Best Buy stores keep that model in stock. --> I'm close to Baton Rouge now.

I love cypress trees.

I love cypress trees.

JJ, Denise, and Luke just

JJ, Denise, and Luke just showed up near the NO airport and are taking me to lunch at Ho Ho's ("Ha Ha's") Chinese buffet.

Outdoor lodging

I can get away with sleeping in a lot of places that homeless people could never think of sleeping. The first reason is because I'm normally only there for one night, then I'm gone, usually before people really have a chance to notice me. Second, I camp in places that are fairly visible. If homeless people were to set up camp in the same places on a regular basis, they'd eventually be seen and "evicted." --> I really do not like my tent. It's too labor intensive, it has absolutely no head room, and it has a tiny vestibule, among other things. (But it's really light.) --> Consequently, I can't wait until I get to REI because I intend to utilize their 100 percent satisfaction guarantee to trade in my Big Agnes Seedhouse SL2 tent, probably for an REI Quarter Dome T2. I'd prefer not to do it, partly because my SL2 is not in the best condition, but that's mostly a result of the tent not
being right for me. When you can't move inside your tent, you get clumsy and fuck it up in various ways.

Tent City

Web traffic for the blog went up by like 25 percent last month. That's interesting to me. --> It was really hard to leave Common Ground. Not just because I had to wait for the return of my shirt, but because I really liked everyone there. That includes people who are gone already and people who just arrived, as well as the long term volunteers. Thank you everyone! --> Taking a walk around the Lower Ninth Ward last night with several other volunteers, I got an even better sense of how devastated the neighborhood is. There are no tourists or construction workers driving around at night; there's absolutely no one. For two hours we walked around, yet we saw no traffic and we only saw a handful of homes with people living in them. You can't see that in the daytime because there are some misleading signs of life. --> There is a tent city under I-10 at Canal Street. By volunteering to fix up
New Orleans, those people could have good meals, showers, a place to sleep inside, freedom, etc.

I've been listening to a

I've been listening to a Barack Obama speech on a TV at McDonald's, and the guy is really impressing me. He may actually be on OUR side.

I haven't shown you my pretty face in a while, so here ya go. I took this picture on the St. Claude bridge over the industrial canal, heading west out of the Lower Ninth Ward (into the Upper Ninth Ward, I believe). I couldn't get much scenery in the picture because I didn't have any room to hold out the camera. --> This heat really sucks. It doesn't seem quite as bad as a couple days last week, but it's almost unbearable with my backpack on. --> I think I will walk through the French Quarter today, but I don't expect to spend any time there. (I'm only a mile or two from it right now, anyway.) --> I had planned to go west from here, through TX, NM, AZ, and possibly Vegas, but I don't think I'll keep those plans. Instead, I think I'll only go as far west as Houston (because I really need to go to an REI store). Then maybe I'll head waaay north (like to North Dakota/Montana) to get out of
the oppressive heat. Right now, though, I just want to get somewhere new.

Disaster tours and levees

I finally got my shirt back from the person I let borrow it, so now I'm about to leave Common Ground and the Lower Ninth Ward. It's really hot and humid, so today is not going to be much fun. I was thinking about walking around the French Quarter a little bit on my way out of town, but I think I just want to scram right now and work on getting a ride to either Lafayette or Texas. --> In the picture you can see a "disaster tour" bus beside the levee, as well as some empty lots that once had houses on them.

Almost gone

Here's the sign that forced me to volunteer with Common Ground. The blue house on the right is where I've been staying. Notice the levee in the background on the left. (This is the east side of the industrial canal.) The extreme left side of the picture is where a barge ended up after destroying most of the houses on the block. The barge just barely missed the house on the left before finally coming to a stop. After flattening a chunk of the neighborhood, it ultimately came to rest between the house and the levee. I saw a picture that shows half of a school bus sticking out from under one side of the barge. --> I'm just about ready to leave; just waiting to get one of my shirts back from someone who I think is still sleeping. (She was out really late last night.)

Time to leave

I did my laundry this morning and took it easy for the rest of the day, thinking I'd probably start making my way out of New Orleans tomorrow. Right now I'm feeling pretty certain tomorrow is the right time to leave. I may come back here later on during Aimless 2008 or I may drive down here next January or something, when the weather is not so oppressive and I can devote more time to volunteering without making any sacrifices to a long-term trampin' session.

--
Aimless
Aimless Video Evidence
Call me sometime; I get lonely. 614-738-3867

Berkeley

Some of the Berkeley students made it a point to say goodbye to me this afternoon because they are not going to be around after today. They're still going to be in New Orleans for another two or three weeks, but they'll be working with other organizations, while various other students from their group will be working with Common Ground.

Before they said goodbye, a few of them told me they'd already checked out the Aimless web site, while a couple others asked me for the URL. I hope they continue checking out the web site and reading the blog so maybe I can see them again whenever I end up in the Bay Area, which is very likely to happen because San Francisco is one of three cities I really love. I've never been to Berkeley except when I was riding a train through the city, so maybe they'll give me a good reason to head to Berkeley specifically.

I really liked all the students I worked with and around. They were exceptionally friendly and inquisitive, and they didn't have the I-know-everything attitude that a lot of college students have.

Hey UC Berkeley: If any of you read this, I'd love to hear from you sometime down the road. (Phone number is below.)

--
Aimless
Aimless Video Evidence
Call me sometime; I get lonely. 614-738-3867

More things

Despite how it may have appeared in my previous post, I'm not all that worried about getting to know the ladies at Common Ground. In fact, I think I've actually been somewhat charismatic around them lately. (By the way, a whole new batch of 'em showed up last night.)

In case you wondered: No, the previous post's picture is not from the house I was drywalling. It's from a house in the Lower Ninth Ward. I published a different picture from the same house about a week ago.

The writer from New York's name is Kate Lowenstein. She writes for Time Out New York.

I honestly think I'm probably going to leave Common Ground tomorrow. I only have $13, so I really can't stay much longer without finding some work that pays.

I just read the few most recent comments. They were interesting and funny, especially because I mostly have no idea who wrote them.

--
Aimless
Aimless Video Evidence
Call me sometime; I get lonely. 614-738-3867

Things

Yup, I'm still at Common Ground. I planted grass in the wetlands yesterday and did more drywall today. --> There is a large group from the University of California that started working with us yesterday. They're all very cool. Some pretty girls, too, of course. --> Kate from the previous post is not alone at Common Ground. She came here with her good friend Sophia, who is also very pretty and personable. Lately I've been imagining a little bit of eye contact and smiles with Sophia. Having talked to both of them a lot since my previous post, I've stopped worrying about eye contact and smiles and shit like that. As long as I remind myself that girls universally don't want me, I can socialize with them pretty well. (I'll probably take a picture of Sophia & Kate and publish it before I leave.)

Haven't left yet

I'm still at Common Ground in the Lower Ninth Ward. I just couldn't leave today. I think I'm going to leave tomorrow, but I still don't know for sure.

There seems to be two reasons why I'm having a hard time leaving: 1) I like volunteering here and being around the other volunteers; and 2) An intriguing girl showed up here yesterday afternoon. Her name is Kate and she writes for a weekly paper in NYC, the name of which I can't recall right now. She and I keep making eye contact and smiling at each other. However, there hasn't been much opportunity for us to talk yet. She's really neat.

I did dishes for several hours today, then helped install cabinets in the future kitchen. I lost the screw for the right lens of my glasses tonight. I really need new glasses (and about a hundred other things). I only have $16.

--
Aimless
Aimless Video Evidence
Call me sometime; I get lonely. 614-738-3867

The ice cream man

An ice cream truck just drove through this empty neighborhood playing Music Box Dancer. --> Today I helped lay down a new floor in what will soon be the new Common Ground kitchen (pictured). The existing kitchen must be dismantled and relocated because the homeowners want their home back. --> I think I'm going to leave tomorrow and resume my tramping session.

Laptop

My brother called me this morning and told me he has a couple laptops that are available for me if I'd like to use them on the road. They are not the ultralight variety, so I don't know if it will be possible for me to use either of them. Five or six extra pounds of gear is a lot to add, especially when you already carry as much weight as I carry. He said he'll call me again after he weighs them.

Even if I do end up with one of these laptops, I'll still be hoping for someone to donate an ultralight laptop.

One more thing. To anyone who has ever called me ungrateful or selfish: I know you're already making plans to volunteer your valuable time so you can bust your ass to make life a little better for the people of New Orleans. Right?

--
Aimless
Aimless Video Evidence
Call me sometime; I get lonely. 614-738-3867

Web site problems?

Has anyone tried viewing the Aimless front page (http://www.aimlessmovie.com) lately? I just tried opening it, but it won't load. However, when I opened http://www.aimlessmovie.com/index.html, it brought up the front page just like normal. I hope it's just a temporary problem.

I was surprised to see that no one has commented on any of my recent posts or pictures. I guess it's partly because people use the front page as a "gateway" to the blog. I hope I can get everything fixed soon.

--
Aimless
Aimless Video Evidence
Call me sometime; I get lonely. 614-738-3867

FEMA

Capitalizing on tragedy

There are numerous "disaster tours" that bring busloads of tourists into the Lower Ninth Ward every day. The buses drive slowly through the mostly unused streets of this lost neighborhood, each with dozens of cameras rolling and clicking behind tinted windows. It's kind of sick that these tours exist, yet it's probably good for people to see how this place looks THREE YEARS LATER. In a way, I was one of these tourists, coming here with no intention of lending a hand, but something made me volunteer, and I feel very good about it, even if it's only for a few days. --> The house we've been helping rebuild is split into three seperate apartments. Its current owner did not own the building until after Katrina. A fellow volunteer told me he'd prefer to work on a house owned by someone who wants to move back into their pre-Katrina home after being displaced by Katrina. I kinda feel the same.
The owner is really nice, but it just doesn't seem right to be helping someone profit off of tragedy.

More drywall

I'm doing more drywall today. --> Here's a picture of the system of communication they used to account for people after the flood. I don't know what the writing means, although I think there's something about it in the Spike Lee film. I'll try to find out something about it before I leave.

Coe College

A group of students (and one teacher/volleyball coach) from Coe College was here volunteering for the last week or so. They were doing drywall at the same house I was at today. One of the guys plays football for the Coe College Kohawks and I think the other guy used to play football there, too. Also, I believe some of the girls play volleyball and maybe basketball. They were all really cool. Five of them were my roommates last night, but I didn't really meet or talk to most of them until today. They took off just after 1:00 today to head back to Iowa, so tonight I have the room all to myself. --> The picture I was looking for in my previous post mysteriously showed up again.

Drywall

I put up drywall all day today in a house near the Superdome. I don't know if you can see the dust all over me, but it's there. (Actually, the good picture seems to have disappeared from this stupid-ass phone, so I had to send a different one that really sucks.)

Home Part 2

Home Part 1

Firehouse

Shelley (sp?) and Richard out at the muddy marsh. (There will be a lot more pictures coming. I can only do one at a time.)

Common Ground

Today I kinda hooked up with a relief group called Common Ground Relief. They occupy a few buildings on Deslonde (Street?), adjacent to where the levee broke. After volunteering to help them in any way I could, I ended up planting some marsh grass in a marsh to the northeast of New Orleans. We didn't get much done because a thunderstorm roared in. When we got back to the Ninth Ward, I washed some dishes in their "mess hall." I'll be staying in their building at Deslonde and N. Roman (my brother's name) tonight. --> The pic is of the new levee, where the old one broke. (Looks like my finger got in the way.)

Not coming home

Someone lived here three years ago.

Reggie Green, Fireman

I just talked to a really cool fireman named Reggie Green for a while after he let me fill up my water bottles at the Lower Ninth Ward "firehouse," which is actually a trailer in a parking lot. --> The Lower Ninth Ward is not a dangerous place. How could it be? No one lives here anymore or has any reason to be here, particularly north of Claiborne (Avenue?), near the Intracoastal Waterway, where the levee broke. (Check out the satellite images on Google Maps because they are post-Katrina. I checked it out from a library today.) Most of the people you see here are construction workers. Believe me, though: Most of the "houses" don't have anyone working on them. In a lot of places, most of them don't even exist anymore. --> The pictured house was somewhere else before the levee broke. Can you see how it has been forced up against the other house?

A picture

Here's a picture.

Cajun gold conclusion

Before I left JJ's property, JJ gave me some MREs (Meals, Ready to Eat). You know, the things that come in a green package, usually reserved for military folks in the field. I've eaten two of them so far (of five), and they're pretty good. However, they weigh about two lbs each and I find them very awkward and messy. Much of the weight comes from the packaging, but the food itself is heavy, too, because none of it is dehydrated. Also, each one has about three different meal components that require heating, but it's only equipped to heat one. I would think the military could figure out a more efficient way to feed their guys. Or maybe I just need to learn how to use them. I'm glad I finally got a chance to try some MREs, though. Thanks JJ. --> I spent yesterday walking from Metairie into New Orleans. Spent last night near I-10 & St. Bernard, beside the on-ramp to I-10 East, in a
neighborhood where most white folks would be afraid to even drive. --> Right now I'm in the Lower Ninth Ward.

Cajun gold Part 12

When we pulled into Best Buy's parking lot, I realized I'd been there before. It was back in 2005, during my six-week visit with Jeff, when he lived in Hammond. Anyway, the guys went in and looked around while I bought some tapes. Then we all went outside and prepared to say goodbye because this was my last stop with them. It was awkward and difficult for all of us to say goodbye because they all treated me like family during the two days I spent with them. Not just JJ and Luke, but everyone I've mentioned (excluding Kristina and Pete). And that's what I meant when I titled this series of posts 'Struck Cajun gold.' --> It was really hot Monday and I could tell it would be easy to find somewhere to sleep in Metairie, so I chose not to walk very far. I just walked a couple miles toward New Orleans and hung out for a while in the Clearview Mall (where I'd also been with Jeff). The AC was
pumping hard and there was plenty of electricity to charge my phone as I wrote several blog posts...

Cajun gold Part 11

JJ took a nap for about 3 or 4 hours. Meanwhile, I watched a DVD of the Stewie Griffin Story (or whatever that's called) twice. When JJ was finished napping, we went back over to Greg's house, where everyone else had a cookout while we were away. There was still a lot of food left, so I filled up a plate after someone gave me the green light. --> That night everyone just hung out and watched TV. Almost everyone went to bed pretty early. I wanted to, as well, but I had to wait for my laundry. So at about 12:30 I went back to the bedroom in the boarding trailer, knowing I'd be riding to New Orleans with JJ in the morning. --> Monday morning I woke up early and got ready to take off. Luke joined JJ and I as we hauled 2 tons of used car batteries to a battery distributor in New Orleans. After delivering the batteries, JJ treated us all to a Chinese buffet for lunch. Then we were off to the
French Quarter, where we cruised around for a while before heading to the Best Buy in Metairie...

Cajun gold Part 10

With Pete out of the picture, I went ahead and opened the door to see what Kristina had to say. She said she was back because the cops had nothing to hold her on. She also kind of apologized and said some other things. I told her, "I didn't want to get either of you in any trouble, but you couldn't have expected me not to call 911 after he threatened to kill me." Then I fucked her. (Just kidding.) That was the last I spoke to her. --> Pete's apparently going to be behind bars for quite a while. (See if you can find anything on the internet about this incident. It happened in Lafourche Parish, just outside of Des Allemands, which is in St. Charles Parish.) --> Sunday was a lazy day for everyone, probably because we were all tired from the previous night's drama. I didn't get up until 11:00. When I got up, JJ took me over to his house, where we ate some leftover pizza from Friday, which
was JJ's 40th birthday. We also had some banana birthday cake and some ice cream cake for dessert...

Cajun gold Part 9

Since I haven't introduced any of the females, I'll do that now: JJ's common-law wife's name is Denise, Greg's wife is Evie, Greg's older daughter is Eve, and Greg's younger daughter is Selena. (I'm not sure if I spelled them all correctly.) Now back to the story. --> I sat on the porch with Luke, Greg, Evie, and Denise until about 4:30 AM; that's when the cops finally left JJ's house and a tow truck left with Pete's pickup. The news by now was: 1) The cops found four quarter bags of weed in Pete's truck; 2) Kristina was taken into custody; and 3) The cops finally found Pete sleeping on a friend's porch about half a mile away. --> JJ had already offered to let me spend the rest of the night as his place, but since Pete and Kristina were both in custody, Luke suggested that I just go back to the room where I had been sleeping. It made sense to me, so that's what I did. --> I heard a
knock on my door at about 7:30 that morning. It was Kristina, who I thought was in jail...

Cajun gold Part 8

After all that shit, all I wanted to do was get out of the trailer and go somewhere safe. So as I packed up my stuff, Luke told me some of what had gone down before the cops showed up at my door. First they'd woken him up as he slept on Greg's couch about 100 feet away, then he escorted the cops over to the trailer I was in. He said Pete and Kristina tried to elude the cops by driving on the back road with their headlights off, but the cops saw them and initiated a chase. Pete pulled into JJ's driveway, about a quarter of a mile from the shop, and ditched his truck, leaving Kristina behind and fleeing on foot. --> When I finished packing up, Luke and I walked to Greg's trailer, where Greg and the women were sitting on the porch, watching the light show in front of JJ's house. Someone told me the cops said Pete had tossed out a bag of crack during the short chase. They all found that
hard to believe because they knew him pretty well. They were all surprised by his behavior that night...

Cajun gold Part 7

I told the men in the hallway that I'd only open the door if they contacted the 911 operator and told her to call me. Instead they gave me a phone number to call. Now feeling confident that the men were who they said they were, I decided not to call the number. Instead I went ahead and opened the door, finding real cops on the other side. --> Very cautious, the cops checked my ID and quickly checked my room to make sure no one else was in there. One of the cops asked me, "Where's Pete!? Where's Pete!?" At this point I still didn't know the tenant's name was Pete, nor was I aware that Pete and Kristina had fled the trailer before the cops arrived, so I was very confused again. Thinking he was looking for someone else, I said, "I don't know who you're talking about." --> By now the cops were satisfied that I was not the bad guy, so I went to the bathroom to take a leak. When I finished
and walked back to the hallway, the cops were gone and Luke was the only other person in the trailer...

Cajun gold Part 6

When I finally remembered that the trailer was behind "JJ's Tire Repair," I told the operator that much. She said, "OK, now I know where you are." --> By now it was pretty quiet in the trailer. I guess my 911 call was an effective counter to Pete's murder threat. So feeling much less threatened and knowing the cops were on their way, I asked the operator if there was any reason for me to stay on the line with her. She said we could end the call if I felt OK about it. She then verified my phone number and we hung up. --> Eventually Kristina came back to my door and asked me, in a friendly-sounding voice, if I would open the door and talk to her. I told her the cops were on their way and I was not opening the door until they arrived. Even with knowledge of my 911 call, she seemed surprised that the cops were coming. She went back toward her room, sounding panicky. --> A long time later,
someone claiming to be the cops knocked on my door. For all I knew, it could've been Pete's friends...

Cajun gold Part 5

When Pete came back, he said he had a gun and he was going to kill me. I immediately moved to a different spot on the bed--a spot not directly in front of the door--and I called 911. Busy with the 911 call, I stopped paying attention to whatever was going on outside my room. I was suprisingly calm. --> At some point I remember Kristina saying something to me through the door; Pete had gone somewhere else on the premises by now. Diverting my attention from the 911 operator, I told Kristina I'd called 911. She sounded shocked. Amazed by her shock, I asked her, "What the fuck did you expect me to do? He just said he's gonna kill me!" Sounding distressed, she went back to her room on the other end of the trailer, turning off the hallway light on her way there. --> Unsure of where I even was, it took me a long time to help the 911 operator figure out where to send the cops. That's really not
cool when you're not sure you'll even be alive long enough to think of the right landmark...

Cajun gold Part 4

Unsatisfied with my explanation for why I was in the trailer, Pete went back to his room momentarily. Soon he returned with his girlfriend Kristina. This time he had an aluminum baseball bat. Kristina also had a device that could inflict blunt trauma to the head, but I can't remember exactly what she had because I was only half awake and I was very confused. (I don't know why Pete felt he needed a baseball bat. He is a very muscular guy and I was half inside my sleeping bag, posing absolutely no threat.) This time he said he had some friends on the way and that if I don't want to get seriously fucked up, I better leave. Since he couldn't get ahold of JJ on the phone, he apparently decided threatening me with violence was the only solution. --> When a car pulled up outside, Pete walked away to see who it was. I can only assume it was his "backup." While he looked, I shut the door and
locked it. Now kinda worried, I called JJ, but my call went straight to voicemail. Soon Pete was back...

Cajun gold Part 3

After chowing down on crab Saturday evening, JJ and I joined everyone at Greg's house. JJ eventually took me back to the boarding trailers to show me where I could spend the night. (Between the two trailers, seven of the eight rooms are vacant. An unmarried couple rents a room in one trailer; the other trailer is empty.) --> JJ led me to the only vacant room with a bed. It's in the same trailer the couple lives in. He couldn't introduce me to the couple because they were not around, so he just showed me the room and left me alone for the night. I wrote a blog entry and went to sleep a little bit before midnight. --> At 2:00 I was awakened when someone opened the door to my room, shut it, then knocked very loudly, purposely to wake me up. I answered the door to find a very angry guy named Pete. I told him I was JJ's guest, but he didn't seem to care. For some reason, Pete apparently
believed he had exclusive use of JJ's trailer, even though he only rents one room and rarely pays...

Cajun gold Part 2

To make a long (and interesting) story short (because I don't have a laptop): JJ took me to one of his two boarding trailers so I could shower. After he got some things done at his tire repair shop, we all headed across the street to the lake (Dufrene Ponds?), which JJ's family owns. We were joined by JJ's wife, as well as Greg's wife and two daughters. --> We all got onto the pictured boat and began floating, but the boat flaked out in about three different ways, so Luke ended up pulling the boat a couple hundred feet back to the boat ramp. Back on land, the guys tried to fix the problem, but it just wasn't happening, so JJ took the boat home and zoomed back over on a tiny boat, which we all boarded. We had a nice little cruise on the lake, drinking some beers and having a fun time. --> After the cruise, everyone except me and JJ got off the boat and went to Greg's house. JJ and I then
rode the boat back over to JJ's house, where he cooked up a crab boil just for the two of us...

Struck Cajun gold

I slept behind a Century 21 office in Raceland last night, then started walking toward New Orleans this morning. Tired from 4.5 miles without a break, I went into a small truck stop and found a seat in the dining area. Soon three guys sat near me. Seeing all my gear, one of them asked me (with a distinctly Cajun accent) what I was doing. After I told him a little about my travels, he offered to buy me something to eat. Introducing himself as JJ, he instructed me to order some food, so I ordered a catfish and oyster po-boy and resumed my chat with JJ (looking goofy in pic), Luke (pictured), and Greg. --> I figured the guys would leave when they finished their lunch, but they hung around and kept talking to me. Then, when I finished my kick-ass po-boy, JJ offered me a ride eight miles up the road and said something about going for a ride on a boat. Already getting a feel for JJ's
personality, I thought he may have been bullshitting about the boat ride, but I accepted the lift offer...

I just watched (and taped)

I just watched (and taped) a snake as it committed suicide in the road. Don't know what kind of snake; pretty sure it was not venomous.

Leaving Houma

Jen slept on the other couch at Erik and Aaron's place last night. At about noon Jen treated me to lunch at a KFC/Taco Bell hybrid, then took me to a small truck stop at the Bayou Blue Road exit off US 90 (future I-49). It's raining and otherwise dreary right now, so I'm just hanging out. I figure I'll make my way back to New Orleans before heading west along I-10, but who knows; I might just end up going west from here. --> Happy birthday Jen! --> Thank you Jen, Craig, Tanya, Erik, Aaron, and everyone else. --> I have long since run out of the money I started with, but I have not been in any kind of desperate position yet. Also, I have only used 4.5 tapes so far. I don't know if it's because I haven't been in many interesting situations or because I don't feel like sacrificing the experience of an epic journey. Probably a little of both. --> The combination of mosquitoes, heat, and
humidity will probably force me to leave Louisiana sooner than I really want to. It's almost Texas time.

Houma

I got a ride to Houma Wednesday with a really cool guy [from Florida] named Bubba. He dropped me off outside Houma's really awesome library, where I met reference librarian Craig and staffer Jen. After talking to them for a while, Craig said I could camp outside his house and Jen said she could take me most of the way to New Orleans the next morning (yesterday). --> Yesterday morning Jen and her friend Erik picked me up and took me toward New Orleans. After selling his pickup to someone in a parking lot, Erik got into Jen's car and we all went to New Orleans. We stopped on Bourbon Street for a quick slice of pizza, then headed toward the 9th Ward to see the devastation. (Without a computer I can't even begin to describe what that was like.) --> I ended up going back to Houma with them, where we hung out all day at Erik's place with roommate Aaron, cousin Emily, and the sheriff's deputy
from a few doors down. Last night I had a really cool conversation with Aaron, then slept on a couch.

Apparently I just can't stop

Apparently I just can't stop blogging. I just wish I had the right tools to tell the stories how they should (and could) be told.

Comments

I'm at the library in Houma, Louisiana and I decided to read some comments. Not all, just some. One stood out: Jay's comment on my Savannah post.

Well, at least I don't need to wonder anymore about how he might react.

Also, I want to respond to Badger's comment sometime:

I'm no genius, but I'm pretty confident that your hair is now history. That's gotta feel good.

How would you compare this adventure to your last one so far? You seem to be in good spirits and less concerned with the making of the documentary and more in it for yourself this time and challenging yourself, which makes sense to me.

...But I can't right now.

--
Aimless
Aimless Video Evidence
Call me sometime; I get lonely. 614-738-3867

$3.73(.9) for regular unleaded gas

$3.73(.9) for regular unleaded gas (the cheap stuff) in Berwick, Louisiana. Someone please tell me why the revolution has not begun yet.

Lafayette, Louisiana.

Lafayette, Louisiana.

Oxford

Can't say what I'd like to say here because I don't have a computer, so here's the stupid, pointless, condensed version. I hope it bores the hell out of you: After walking all the way to Oxford from north of Memphis, I sat on a picnic table in "the grove" on the University of Mississippi campus. My objective was to see the most amazing girl I've ever known. That never happened. --> In the grove, a girl (Courtney) and guy (Josh) stopped to talk to me. Josh let me stay at his place that night. The next night I stayed at Courtney's place, but as a guest of her brother Ryan. Two days ago, as I walked out of Oxford, a guy named Robert offered me a place to sleep for the night. Yesterday Robert took me to Oakland. --> Today I made my way back north to Batesville, thinking I might just go home, then started walking south on I-55. After a few miles, someone stopped. It was Josh and Dorothy. Now
I'm riding to Brookhaven with them. --> This could have been very interesting if I had a laptop.