I’d like to say that over time my luck has changed. I managed to get a good job in the city I love to live in, I still have most of my teeth, and most people who don’t know me think the shaved head thing looks pretty good. But my quick trip to Texas in November to load up a U-Haul of left-behind things and truck them back to California wasn’t as lucky. I expected to be rained on, and I was even prepared for a little ice. But what I got in Ft. Stockton was THIS: (click on thumbnails for larger images)

The snow started around 7pm when I was 30 miles outside of Ft. Stockton. I thought it was rain at first, until it began to drift into the windshield sideways. A friend of mine called and I said “Hey guess what? There’s snow in Texas!” I thought it was pretty cool. Until 10 minutes later it was coming down so hard I could barely see the truck in front of me. I spent the next two hours trying to stay on the highway as all the cars behind me threatened to skid into my rear at any moment.

I finally made it into town and managed to find a Pizza hut that was still open. All the “tourists” parked in the parking lot, but I could see that it was just a frosty mudhole so I parked on the street. There wasn’t too much traffic anyway. Only when I got inside the lady with 11 fingers said that they couldn’t handle any more sit-down customers – even though they had a hole dining room roped off! She said that it was because there were only 2 waitresses and they couldn’t handle it. With 50 people lines up behind me I asked her why I couldn’t just order it to go and then eat it at one of the empty tables behind the rope. She got this blank look and most of her bodily functions shut down as the squirrel in her mind could only spin enough energy for her brain. Then she came back to life and said “we can’t let you do that.” I deferred to the better judgment of the children of the corn. Out here, they were the law.

So I took my pizza over to the Holiday Inn Express and ate it in the parking lot. I took the cork out of a bottle of rare Rum from Puerto Rico, but then decided against drinking any. I took a nap instead. When I woke up there were two men outside of my truck. Both made of snow.

It was now about 11pm and I could see that there was no more snow coming down. The road in town seemed like it was melting fast so I thought a minute about all the people trying to leave at once in the morning. I did the sensible thing and got back on the road! I got behind the only big rig that came along for 15 minutes and then tried to stay in his tracks. Unfortunately the snow began to fall again after about 5 minutes and the next town was 200 miles away…

I drove thru the night at about 20 miles per hour, stopping at a rest stop halfway to El Paso for a nap. After 60 minutes I said “I guess the worst is over” and got back on the road at 4am. Unfortunately, the worst was not over.

If you’ve ever seen Apocalypse Now, you may remember the trip up the last part of the river. The area where no viet cong nor american troops would go. No man’s land. I followed a lone trucker into the west texas equivalent. It was beautiful and serene. We passed tracks of cars that had gone way off the road, jackknifed rigs and travelers who had driven into the dirt and camped in their cars. Soon the trucker lost his will and pulled over to sleep. So I pushed on alone, sometimes at 10mph.

I rolled down the window several times to witness the silence and beauty of the place. I stopped once and there was nothing. No cars, no sounds, no lights except for mine, and the wind didn’t even make a whistle.

Soon dawn came, but there was no sun, just white glow. There was a beautiful silence and it felt like Christmas with all of the flashing lights ahead. It turned out to be an overturned suburban which you can see just above the cop car if you look close.

I rolled into El Paso around 7am.

It was uneventful. Most of the snow was gone from the road though it still lined the road. Every few minutes a huge chunk would fall off a truck and wreak havoc with the Pinto driving behind it. The picture above with the smoke stacks is looking over the border into Mexico. Taking these pictures I realized that foreigners don’t hate us for our freedom. They want our central A/C and Heat. Hill after hill of shanty neighborhoods was frozen stiff right across the road from their salvation. I’d run across the river too.

Soon I crossed into New Mexico and miraculously the sun came out almost immediately!

New Mexico looks like the picture above and this next picture – the whole way across it.

And then, 5 miles from the Arizona border I saw the most oddball natural formation I’ve ever seen. It was so oddball I didn’t even pick up my camera because I was so spellbound. If you’ve ever seen the show Fraggle Rock you’ll want to investigate this region. The real Fraggle Rock is 50 feet from I-10 and someone even spraypainted “FRAGGLE ROCK”. Weird.

Next came Arizona!

And soon after entering the desert state I happened upon Texas Canyon. I stopped to get some free coffee and Frito’s.

After this it was all business. I traveled thru Tucson, then Phoenix and stopped to nap about an hour from the California border. By the time I got back on the road night was threatening. It was only about 4 but I had a loooong way to go. Here’s the California checkpoint!

The rest of my voyage is a delirious mystery. I drove thru Los Angeles on pure adrenaline, sure that I would capsize the U-Haul at any moment. I wanted to stop but was scared to change lanes. So I pushed onward towards Bakersfield on I-5. I seemed to remember the town that had cheap gas and my tank was on E. I passed a station and decided to stop at the next one. The next one came 21 miles later, just as the last drop of fuel was entering the engine. I lucked out and it was the town with the cheap gas.

If you’ve never driven thru the central valley of California on I-5, close your eyes. Imagine a beautiful farm. Walk thru the lush meadows of it until you come to the barn where the cows sleep. Find some steaming cow poop on the ground and put your nose 6 inches above it. It’s like that for about 50 miles and turning the A/C off and stuffing your socks in the vents doesn’t help. The smell of factory farms eats thru metal.

I slept somewhere along the road at a truck stop. I woke up with some dude staring at me in the next car. So I got back on the road at about 1 am. By the way, when I say I took naps what I mean is that I balanced myself across the console on the free area of the two available seats. Every once in a while I would start to fold in two so I’d half-wake up and reposition.

I rolled into Larkspur at 4am. HOO RAY!

The final note on this story comes the next day. Even as I was glad to be back in one piece my luck hadn’t totally returned. The first thing I took out of the truck was the heap of stuff in the front seat – chips, a small box, the rum in it’s box, and some clothing. As I neared the front door I could smell the neighbors had been partying. It smelled like liquor, and it was so strong I figured they must have been up for days for Thanksgiving just getting hammered. Once I got inside it dawned on me as I turned the rum box upright again. I forgot to put the CORK back in. I opened the lid and let two shots of $150 rum run into my mouth. Great rum tastes like cardboard.

Hello from the North Bay. After months of waiting, setbacks, personal dramas and being born under a bad sign I have escaped the complex confusion of San Francisco for the green and blue mountains and bays of Marin County.

My daily commute now takes me by sea around Angel Island, past Alcatraz and into the docks of the city. By car it’s a short 20 minutes over hills and across the Golden Gate.

Here’s what the bridge looked like today. It was my day off so I went into the city for fun at noon. I was met with a cold blanket of fog.

The fog only hung over the water though, the city was still clear.

My apartment is clean. It’s the first time in a long time I’ve lived in a clean and tidy house! I moved all this in by myself, except for the couch.

After the weekend of moving this and a bedroom of stuff that is not shown I could have used a new shoulder. Now all I need is a dog to piss in every corner and it will be just like home.

I spent my day off walking at Ocean Beach, strolling around the zoo, investigating the cliffs at Fort Funston and driving around Pacifica. Check out my Flickr images at right to see all the shots I took. There’s 155 of them so get a 24oz beer before you sit down.

For those of you who asked for more photos, here they are. Here’s a shot coming out of the Presidio on my way home.

Here’s my old house, not as colorful as it used to be. I was in the top-right and Nancy was in the middle-left.

Here’s one of the thingsthat hasn’t changed in 9 years. This car wash is EXACTLY the same, except older.

The cheapest gas station in town is in the heart of the Castro, where the rainbow is always flying.

This is a secret park I found a few blocks from work.There’s a narrow sidewalk off the street that leads to two park benchs and a small overlook. From here you can see the whole Bay. Here’s a slice of it.

Here are a few reasons why this is the best place on Earth. This is my route to work It’s all down hill after this, in more ways than one. But for 10 minutes at least, I am not grumpy.

Now I’m going to run at the beach! I’ll probably twist my ankle…

This morning on the way to work I was driving behind a cyclist on her way to work. She was turning left and another cyclist ran the opposing red light and they almost collided. I couldn’t help but laugh. Is that wrong?

The way I see it, cyclists here have usurped too much power. First they want to share the road with cars so they did their critical mass thing on Fridays. But once they won their respect they decided they would rather ride on trails. Only now their trails are paved but they still refuse to acknowledge these trails have lights and signs and big squirrels like me who are only a few levels of stress away from mistaking the gas for the break pedal.

Not really. Maybe.

My shoulder injury is excrutiating this evening. So I’m calling it a night.

Here’s a picture of my neighborhood last night as the fog rolled in. This is looking down my street towards the Presidio.

For more pics of my neighborhood, check out my new Flickr set.

 

It’s a beautiful sunny day in the Inner Richmond! The sun is shimmering off the lush green palm fronds in the backyard. Families and domestic partners walk gleefully down my street on their way to the Presidio a few blocks away for a picnic of fresh California fruit and exotic meats and cheeses. The birds are chirping on the ledge of the Victorians that border the manicured backyards and the fresh ocean air is crisply chilling the room where I sit in a crooked position that favors my left shoulder which is currently what pain management professionals call a “9″. The drip of a leaky faucet keeps time with the throbbing heat that is steadily stiffening my neck and shooting down to my forearm.

On the bright side, I have a really good parking spot in front of the manor I share with a jewelry designer. It gives me a reason, not to be confused with a good reason, to avoid ruining my pole position with a trip anywhere. This is her work studio so she’s only here when I’m gone. Usually. Which is similiar to the dynamic between me and happiness. Welcome to the Grumpy Chair.

This is me hiding my excrutiating pain with a small grin and lots of pain medication. I had hoped to go to the zoo today, but instead I’m stuck in a cage of my own design like Marcel Marceau without the range of motion.