67 Gonna go to the place that's the best

Walking. We kept walking. Nothing going on. It felt like we just had to get somewhere. A truck or car went by here and there, but nothing. Just the sun. Rocks. And a long stretch of highway ahead of us. Walk. Sit down. Walk. Sit down. Peanut butter and jelly. Not too much conversation except for one of those “I'm going back” arguments. No. I'm not going back. LBJ even crossed the highway and started walking in the other direction. I kept going. LBJ smoked a cigarette and crossed back. We kept going. I know I laid down a few times too. 

 

We must have been at just the right age not to perish standing and sitting in the desert sun. Yeah, nobody cared about sunscreen back then. Luckily we had something to drink, I guess, in the morning. Maybe the jelly kept us alive. Good stock in both of us too.

The sun started going down. We weren't getting anywhere so we found what we thought was a pretty private spot off the road a bit. But I was still a city girl and he was a city boy. I said “But snakes?” “And scorpions?” Ok. We found a spot in a little clearing, away from plants (sagebrush.) Yoicks. I got the smelly sleeping bag. You know, the one that got wet in Ohio and stayed rolled up the whole time we were in Chicago. Earthy, moldy.

Didn't matter. So tired. Not even tired. Destroyed from the sun and heat. It all got pretty trippy. Just staring at the openness. Not much between us and the reality that we live on a ball floating in the universe. It was dark but light. Dark. No humans. No buildings. No cars. Just the stars. I felt like I was floating in space like never before. But scorpions. Hoping they didn't get me.

Morning was not easy. The sun came up and it was immediately hot. I picked up my sleeping bag and there were all kinds of strange bugs that I had never seen before. I did one of those freaked out scream things. Not under the other sleeping bag. I think this sleeping bag was still a little damp or something. Maybe the smell was attractive to them. I didn't realize we were so close to the road too. It was really dark the night before. No place in the desert to be modest as the trucks flew by.

Whew. Here we go again. I think we might have both been a little spacey from the punishment we took the day before. But Holy Mother of God. A pickup truck pulled over. I'll never forget it. One of those old classic Green trucks.

There were three people in it. An older couple and a younger guy. Indians. The younger fellow talked to us. He got out of the truck, worried about us. Asked if we were thirsty. Yeah. All they had was a thermos of coffee. Thanks. Great. Thank you. It was all so surreal. A Horse With No Name was playing on the am radio. That song was really played heavily on the airwaves that year, but it was like a strange dream to hear it after being stuck in the desert.

Oh. Where are we going to sit? Oh. We're getting in the back of the truck. Believe it or not this was the first time this Long Island girl rode in the back of a pickup truck.

There's a reason I have to describe what I was wearing. I didn't have too many clothes with me, so it was almost the same thing every day. My jeans with patches all the way up the front and on the butt. My light blue halter top. I had quite a bit of skin showing.

A little more material than this.

More skin showing than this.

Well, they take off. Oh, I wasn't doing that hair blowing in the wind with it all being one big knot again. I laid down in the bed of the truck. It seemed like we were in the back of the truck for at least a couple of hours. Further south on Highway 191 into Arizona. Oh there was nothing out there. We just laid there. Jesus. Could we roast anymore in the sun. LBJ looked at me. “Holy shit. Look at your stomach.” I had friggin' blisters on my stomach. Jesus Christ help me. I'm burning up. It wasn't too much longer the truck slowed down. The older couple just looked at us. The young guy got out again. “Hey. We're turning here.” What? Here? There was fucking nothing again. Holy crap.

We got out of the truck. We watched it take off down a dirt road that looked like it went to nowhere. As tough as I was, I was almost crying. But I didn't have the water to spare. Thirsty, burnt, blistered, spacey, tired. Holy hell. Not again.

Another pickup pulled over probably after another hour. We didn't even walk. We just sat there. I think I covered my skin with clothes out of my bag. The guy that picked us up said "Yeah. There's nothing here except for Indian reservations." That's all I remember for a while. We ended up in Winslow, Arizona.