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TRIPPING ALONG USA’S RN1
“Here we go”, said Jim. “The Four Corners”.
I might say that he surprised me more than I can say.
After having being travelling nearby the Death Valley was there still something
better to see?
Oh, yeah, a plain so perfect that you feel moving over
a sheet. It is so perfect that you are in the middle of a circumference. At
night the skies turns into a most wonderful Tree of Stars raining its suns all
over the Four Horizons of the Circumference. I was lying there, arms embracing
the Earth, eyes wide open, from my sleeping bag, connecting my soul with the
soul of the Earth, flying through the Realm of the Creation. The connection was
done. Earth was my body and I was her Intelligent Head, Mother and son, the son
of her entrails, Intelligent Life at the Image of her Creator.
Yes, I could feel the stars of the Universe staring at
me, creature among creatures, shooting their arrow of light to wake up my
senses and bright my smile. There was nowhere else I wanted to be at that
moment. I could feel the pulse of Mother Earth pumping force into my soul. The
sleep came over me time after time, I woke ten times during the night, all of
them to wander after a shooting star, get it, put it in my bow and let it go.
Creature among the creatures of the Creation, created to last forever, to live
forever, to enjoy the most high feeling the Cosmos can give to the creatures of
the Universe, Divine life.
The Four Corners make their stand where the States of
Utah, Nevada, New Mexico and Arizona meet. It is certainly in the middle of
nowhere. A place to forget not, ever.
The night went and the morning came. We hit the road
to Las Vegas. Not that we were interesting in playing the Cassino,
but just to say we were in Vegas we pulled off and visit the Cassinos for fun. Beautiful hooks everywhere, crazy morons
leaving their skin for what, a piece of paper, a golden stone? Man, we are
still in the Palaeolithic Era. Don’t you see? It was
the longest Era in the Human Genetic History, and it was so amazing that still
our blood gets crazy for stones. Or houses are caves. Dali and Picasso are
Stone Age men painting our caves for money; at the end of the day that’s all
they were, Stone Age men. But speaking so I offend the memory of our Grand
Fathers. And though the scientists will not mind to see genocide after
genocide, and even help in the killing to be scientifically made, they get mad
when listening the word of Wisdom pissing on their theories about the Stone Age
Man being a Beast. That’s exactly the theory that the Devil put on the table
before the Court of the sons of God in defense of his killing the First king of
the Earth. The Stone Age Man was an amazing creature, a king of the World when
the World was Young and Wild and the creatures were enormous and many. He had
no reason to be physically so enormous, he had something much better,
Intelligence. And his genius moved his hands to paint in the walls of their
natural homes those great pictures by which the Altamira and Lascaux caves are
called the Temples of the Stone Age Man.
Anyway, a child is beautiful while is a child. Every
age got its beauty, and when a man acts as a child is crazy, and so when a
child plays to be a man.
We passed by the greatest Dam and we reached California,
the Golden State. We got at the end of our road. Jim had to go his way and I
got to go mine. He was not interested in L.A. I was. You don’t come so far to
leave L.A. behind.
Sun was shining. Santa Barbara was a delicious town,
got me my last meal with my own money, enjoyed a lot the town, and got ready to
hit the road to L.A.
As things go with me it could not be otherwise. A guy
drunk to death pulled off and offered me the wheel. Well, saying he offered me
the wheel is not exactly the truth. He nearly order me to get the wheel. He was
going to San Diego anyway. And he was so drunk that no word of mine made it to
his head. “Whatever”, said I. I got the wheel and drove him to San Diego. I was
not surprised by the Highway cruising the City. But hell I was when I got
inside that mass leaving the city in the rush hour. One thing is to drive at
ease in an open highway and another to get in the middle of a stream of
thousands and thousands of cars moving at the same speed in perfect harmony.
You cannot drive but to the general speed, you cannot turn right or left a
single inch without hitting the cars on your sides. And if our way-out was
somewhere close by I didn’t know how I was gonna make
it. I had to keep cool. I didn’t want the guy to find out that I was virgin in
these dealings; drunk as he was he could start shouting and screaming and make
me lose control. I sat smoothly like one who drive that kind of highway every
day. Luckily we didn’t have to turn nowhere, the road was going straight to San
Diego. It was an old Dodge, I remember that. I parked it somewhere in town and
headed back to L.A. The distance is not too much, I could make it. I thought a
good idea to crash on the sands of Long Beach, enjoy the night walking the
famous seaside in the movies. I had plenty sun and the road was full of cars.
And so it came to happen. With the extra luck that the last car I got off it
left me in the highway entering the L.A., where from a guy picked me up and
wouldn’t let me sleep in Long Beach.
“Are you crazy? They gonna kill you there. You can’t do that here. Crash by the beach in the heart of
L.A.! Man, really you come from the other side of the waters. Listen to me, you
come home, mi casa es tu casa, and tomorrow you pay your visit to Long
Beach. All right?”
I could do with a shower. And that was the first time
I tried Cocaine. He had a house by the beach, north of the city, with a window
to the ocean, super relaxing. On the table, in the middle of the living room,
he had a kind of little dish with white powder on it. He sniffed some.
“Serve yourself”, he said. I didn’t want him to get
uncomfortable with me and I hit a little.
I don’t know, they said Cocaine tell no lies. I felt
nothing special. How could get me higher a joint of Marihuana or a line of
Cocaine? As a matter of fact drugs never affected me very much.
The most funny girl I ever met was a girl tripping in
LSD who she thought I was tripping too and, honest to God, I wasn’t. She was
jolly holly pretty to my eyes and I could not stop smiling at her with the look
of a hunter who’s been out there without a woman for some time. She was seduced
by my smile and she couldn’t help telling me that I was tripping in LSD too.
I was not. Sex adrenaline, yeah. But she couldn’t help
laughing and seducing me neither. And I could not blame her for thinking so.
Horst was tripping, and he had the look of some imperial eagle watching the
world below.
“Look at him”, I said to her, “he is tripping”, and we
burst laughing. Finally I decided to convince my pretty prey that I was not
tripping, and if this was tripping, then, I fell, like the fat guy in Obelix and Asterix, in a LSD pool
and I could not help being happy and feeling good all the time, the most happy
I was she was right there to make my night an Arabian tale.
“Well, listen to this, honey, we are walking through
one of the most pretty avenues in New Delhi, we just came to pay a visit to the
Red Fort, where we met, I have been on the road for six months, we had crazy
adventures in Egypt and Sudan, we have cruised in the Magic Bus through Turkey
and Iran, we hit Afghanistan and Pakistan, and here we are, New Delhi, and it
is February, I had my twentieth birthday few days ago, and the most beautiful
lady in town can’t restrain the desire to making love with me. Give me a reason
to feel other way”.
For no purpose; she was tripping, Horst was tripping,
and I had to be in trip too. God, she was headed, but she was just the first
Spanish woman I have met since I left home, and she was delicious to my eye and
my blood. “Shut up your and kiss me”, and she kissed me all day and all night
long.
So, back to the L.A. tale, I forgot about the Cocaine
on the table, and took a shower. My host went away for some reason and left me
alone in the house. This is something that Americans don’t do usually. But that
happened to me many times all over the country; the fact of being a European
Man and a English speaking fellow it was for them a hit. He came back later on
with some friends, we drank few beers, they have their own party, we ended up
watching a movie.
I woke up next morning and paid my visit to Long
Beach. Much like the Europeans Spanish Touristic Coast anyway. The days of
glamour were gone. I began to hit the road at around midday. I made it to
Venice Beach, Hollywood on the hills, and not wanting to hit any Highway but to
enjoy the West Coast I walk my way through Santa Barbara to RN1, walking miles
and miles on and on, not much traffic, swimming here and there, till few days
later I reached Half Moon Bay, round the south corner from San Francisco, where
I slept by the beach in a lucky Full Moon Night.
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