aric with an a

I’d been trying to be such a good camper.

Sitting down to pee.

Not touching myself.

Etc.

So, when I saw the keys still in the ignition of the Jeep being towed by the bus, I thought:

‘Wouldn’t that be thoughtful if I took them out? Gosh, someone could have stolen this!’

What I didn’t know is that taking the key out locked the front wheels.

We wouldn’t find out until 70 miles later.

When you consider both the mustache debacle and the fact that I was given a 9mm by my brother with the Greyhound bus I was to board en route to Tim & Robin in Oklahoma City, you can imagine my mindset.

I was sneaking on a gun.
I had a dyed face.
I was on a mode of transportation that suited neither.

Funny how on the previous rides, they were the freaks.

Well, as it turned out, there is no security check [you’d think a recent minor beheading might cause them to step it up just a tad] and I made it there safely. Although, I’m not sure if the Cherokee lit on moonshine has gotten off yet – but that’s neither here nor there.

We left the next morning and caved to the ‘road trip must’ of The Big Texan Steakhouse in Amarillo – home of the 72oz free piece of meat. Now, I can eat. I’m no Collin Crowell, but it’s been a good 18-pound gain since January. I was willing. I was previously willing, until the 5’10’’ Samoan hung his head and made his way off of the stage they put you on to accomplish said task – complete with a big ass red clock above you. Did they mention that you also had to consume a salad, bread roll, veggies and desert to not pay? Needless to say, I went with a steak 1/5 of that size and still had some left over for our daily breakfast burritos.

It is something you should do though – riding there in the free limo, complete with horns on the front, stopping on the way to the Cadillac Graveyard, complete with a fantastic story:

Sometime, I’m guessing the 70’s, an oil tycoon walked into a Cadillac dealership wearing his working clothes. No one helped him. He got so annoyed he walked into the manager’s office and told him that he wanted to buy all the cars on the showroom store…with cash. He had them all delivered to the side of the road on some property he owned and had them buried ass-up. This became such a landmark; they later had to move them away from the highway as they were causing traffic pileups.

This is Americano at it’s best. Route 66 personified. I love it. Somewhere out there, a giant ball of string still waits as does that insane dinosaur that PeeWee made out with Simone…and I want to see it. I learned an important lesson a while back in India about giving into my inner-tourist and it’s been so much better ever since.

New Mexico was next – and I really hope there’s some kitch. In a very non-ironic way.

This is what the tangible rest of 2009 could look like for me.

I mean, any yahoo can make 10k, yeah?

I like this plan - even if that’s all it ends up being.

I have a grey-ing mustache.

I’m 32 and only have a few grey hairs on my head.

I decided to do something about it.

Wal-Mart provided me the Just For Men - Beard and Mustache [Dark Brown] treatment which I applied with so much vigor, you’d question my kindergarten teachers inability to lecture us on strategic crayoning. The small note at the bottom of the instructions mentioned that if I had a lot of grey, a second coat might be needed.

So I put a second coat on top of the first one.

It wasn’t until 7-8 minutes after (the recommended time is 5) that I began to realize that this treatment is, in face, dye.

I also then realized that I had not been neat.

Which left me with a dyed face.

Hmmmm.

 

rough sundays show 4 - rough sundays

I was faced with two options:

1. Be the guy who ate his lunch in front of Otis Redding’s Ranch

2. Be that guy who ate his lunch in front of Otis Redding’s Ranch

A battle of my lack of persistence vs. my love for Mr. Pitiful. In all honesty, I would have been happy to leave a note of thanks in the oversized mailbox and spend a few seconds looking out over the 300 acres of property he had purchased a few years before that fateful plan crash, but….

Rumors had it that his wife and kids still lived here, but no one answered the guest house knock out front and the large sign with even larger letters advised me not to jump the fence.

Of course I was dejected – his gravestone was 300 yards away and all I wanted to do was take a minute of silent appreciation.

But no one was home.

‘We can have lunch’ said Robin as she pulled out the left-over Mexican from the tequila-soaked previous evening with my most-entertaining Uncle.

Now, had I been in a car and sat quietly eating a sandwich, it might have been strange – but we were in the bus. A big bus that had navigated the backwood streets of the heart of Georgia to a town with no sign letting you know you were there. A but that made it look like we were somebody.

Yes. Fuck it – if I can’t be the guy who saw his grave, I’d be the guy who dined in front of his house.

‘Nice Harley’ Tim said, finishing his beer.

It was a nice Harley. It was also the first car that had passed us in 30 minutes. A big black man on a big silver Harley. A big black Harley-driving black man who looked a lot like the man whose home we were in front of.

‘That has to be his son’ said Robin.

I ran out barefoot. I’m pretty sure I waved and most certainly sure he smiled.

I’m sorry about the big rig parked in front of the house/I’m a massive fan/I just wanted to pay my respects/I’m sorry about something/Thank you/I don’t know what to say.

I’m pretty sure I said all of that, the majority of, or a casserole of those sentences. I remember his name was Dexter. Redding. He was nice and had a kind laugh. We traded email addresses and he vroom-vroomed away on a bike bought with soul.

‘I just shook the hand of Otis Redding’s son’, was my boarding announcement.

Robin wasn’t paying attention - ‘Who’s that in the Mercedes?’

I ran out barefoot and shook the hand of Karla. Redding. She had more faith in people learning about gospel music than I did although I don’t remember the question. ‘I knew y’all had to be Lost or Big Fan’s’ she joked.

Lost.

Or a Big Fan.

A whole lot of both, to be honest – but thanks for letting me have a sandwich here.

she walked out and the rain stopped.

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pretty sure this one is the best to date. 

listen to ‘rough sundays 3′

hope you dig.

I can’t remember the last time I got this fucking emotional watching something on television.

15 million views in less than a week if you’re doubting taking the time to watch. 

watch it here!! [they've taken all of the embedded links down - for good reason!]

you’ll be better for it.

I promise.

with my soon-to-be sister-in-law, Sommer.

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she’s my new favorite person in the whole wide world.

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this photo is of her hugging my brother as he and Coye (his fiancee, her sister) apply for a marriage license - if you look closely, you can see a single tear.

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more photos of her and my soon-to-be family-in-law up here.

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