From my book in progress called “Road Trip”

Hi and welcome to my new blog site! I am going to introduce you to my book page by page in subsequent posts. I look forward to your comments and suggestions! So here goes

Road Trip – Prologue                                                               pg 1

 

The voices fell off into a low echo within the tranquil motion of an hour that might have occurred just a moment before, rolling easily with the past sounds of heart struck strings on the guitar, following an endless stream of  singing voices. The many faces that brought me here renounced themselves and faded away into the many yesterdays that made up my uneasy life. In 1962, my father passed away angry at me – we never connected as friends. And I had to get away from the draft board. I had to get away.

 

Bus Trip – Summer 1966

 

The bus pulled into a quiet New England depot; the type with one yellow light hung aimlessly over a sign that named the place. The bus was stuffy and hot; filled with human smells of sleep and uncomfortable rest – like this was the final refuge for what was left of all mankind. Snores crept up and fell again, a yawn would follow – low quiet whispers followed that – a child’s tired voice – a kiss from the couple sitting behind – a groan from the ancient man in front. The bus stopped – the name of the place sounded off by the angry driver announcing a 15 minute “break” .

Then creeping from the depths of somewhere it came, just like it always came; the diesel fuel after-effect attacking the nasal passages, creating a stinking nausea that was usually relieved by coffee. I lifted my heavy boots from over the arm of my seat and placed them on the floor in front of me. I felt sticky and alone. My shoulder length hair stuck from sweat ot the back of my neck and head, itching. I scratched watching little white flakes fall on to my black jersey. I wiped my hands on my jeans and started to move and fell back as a sharp pain split my skull from my forehead back to the nap of my neck. Outside people were moving quietly into the place where the windows were fogged from a high accumulation of grease. The sign flashed off and on, on and off – EAT! I thought it should have blinked COFFEE. It would bring more customers, especially at this hour. Well, what hour was it? Time had somehow been forgotten from the time I boarded the bus in Boston many hours before, and washed away in a semi-sleep – semi dream world.  As I stepped from the vehicle, the sharp early morning New England air lifted me and refreshed me some. At least the  pain in my head diminished and I lit a cigarette.