Rattling the Iron Gate

Hey, whataya know?! I'm still here! The guys at the bike shop told me my ride was slated for today's repairs, so at least I'll get the fucker today. If it doesn't look like I'll make it to Keystone by nightfall, I'll postpone 'till the morn.

I walked a good 2 to 2.5 miles to the bank for my last withdrawal this morning and still got there an hour before they opened. I then went my ass to the Village Inn for a Mexican omelet which ended up being the start of a pretty funny shit story that inspired me to write it down, as defecation usually does. Sorry, you won't here it before my friends do at the camp-out this weekend. Besides, I gotta finish writing it. I'll post it somewhere down the line after I've taken a good dose of the road.

Wow. The noon whistle just went woo and I haven't slept yet. I guess I'll catch a few winks while waiting for the call.

If, after this post, you don't see any changes for a while, it's 'cause I done caught out and you just need to stand by for a bit.

I'll be back, oh, my bitches.

Pretend the macaroni is Shrimp

Alright, those po-theeds (POTHEADS, get it?) at the bike shop better have something for me to ride by Friday and I don't give a shit if it's a fucking tricycle.

I've been brushin' up on my marlinspike seamanship so as to maybe create profitable furtherances of my wanderings in the form of belts, lanyards, hatbands, and fobs. I think I've got a nifty pattern down for a belt made of 550 cord that utilizes a carabiner for a buckle. The wearer could then, in an emergency, doff said belt and, with some small manipulation, the whole belt could unravel into a long, single line in whatever combination with the 'biner one might need to remedy the problem. This requires further study.

I still haven't told Linda I'm leaving. She'll be pissed, for sure. Maybe I flatter myself thinking she'll cry her eyes out at me. I'm hoping she'll be internally relieved and say, "Oh, gee. I'll miss you. be careful."
What a relief that would be. The first coupla weeks of the trip would suck knowing I, a horrid, drunken, misogynist, actually broke someone's heart. As I said, I may be flattering myself.

OK, a coupla more tallboys and I'll see if I can get sleepy. Tomorrow's a big day of crackin' the whip on the backs of some po-theeds.

Fellowship

The American population is made up of two very distinct types of people. The smallest group of the two is vastly, infinitesimally minute. This group is made up of less than a dozen individuals. These are my friends. The rest of the population, you included, is comprised of MONGOLOID WHORES.

You don't pay attention, you don't listen, you don't look, you're self-centered, you're arrogant, ignorant, AND YOU RAN RIGHT INTO ME IN THE MIDDLE OF THE FUCKING INTERSECTION BECAUSE YOU WERE LOOKING TO THE LEFT WHILE YOUR CAR WAS GOING RIGHT!!!! I FLEW OVER YOUR HOOD AND LANDED FLAT ON MY BACK AND YOU WRECKED MY BRAND-NEW-FUCKING BIKE YOU DONKEY DICK SUCKING WHORE!!!! I'D LOVE NOTHING MORE THAN TO RAPE THE HEADLESS BODIES OF YOUR FUCKING SHITMOP CHILDREN!!!!!

I came out of it with just a dab of roadrash. My bike, however, needs new forks and pedals. The bike was rideable enough to get it to the bike shop and have all that hashed out and moron cunt is footin' the bill. The only thing is that the bike may not be ready until the Friday before my go-away party out at the lake. It's cutting it close but this fucking douchebag-infested town is not holding me!

Just at the moment when all was right with the world, one of you shitbirds has to come along and fuck it right in the neck! What the fuck is wrong with you people? Is it because misery loves company? Are you just that fucking stupid? Don't you know this is how serial killers are made? If it didn't fuck my whole plan to tears, I'd absolutely relish the act of walking around Utica Square (Yuppie mall) and start shooting you and yours in the face.

Did I mention that I don't like people?

Sore Ass

I picked up the new bike and put it together. I rode it. It rocks. The shaft drive is smoooooth. What really rocks about it is the paint scheme. Instead of red and silver, as the show model depicts, I opted for the black and silver. It turns out that is the paint scheme used for their police models so I ended up with a bike what has POLICE on both sides of the cross bar. Fucking cool.

I musta rode 35 miles today all over Tulsa. Tulsa's not exactly easy to ride around in. Lousy roads, lousy sidewalks, lousy drivers. Hills, hills, hills. You'd never notice how hilly Tulsa really is while driving a car. I even strapped my sidesword blade to the frame, stuffed the handle, guard, and pommel in my pack and rode to fencing class. It was only after I assembled my sword and donned my uniform shirt that I realized class isn't until tomorrow. I'm gonna be sore as Hell tomorrow when I actually do go to class. No biggy. It'll make my trip like butter & eggs.

Whistle WHOOOOOO!!!!

The word is...IT'S IN!

The bike is here tomorrow(today). added to that excitement frenzy, I've finally sold the truck today (yesterday). The panniers are to arrive, according to the email sent to me, tomorrow (tomorrow). As soon as the latter event occurs, I will fit the bike with racks and then it's gear testin' time!

GODDAMN! It's finally coming together. I've been doing a lot of hobo research on the web as well as yackin' with actual hobos here along the river to glean any practical tips. The common denominator, or unified hobo theory is, "IF YA WANNA BE THERE, YOU'LL MAKE IT."

Works for me, Jimbo. I wanna be there so bad that I'm sick of here. Of course, being sick of here is why I wanna be there. My allergies are in the beginning stages of kicking my ass. Time ta cheez it. I am literally allergic to Oklahoma. Why did I ever come back after the Navy? Cuz I'ma dummy. Now drop it.

Wonderment awaits, oh, my bitches!

You, my faithful and barely existent readers, Have the second best seat in the house!

Coasting

With little naps in between, each day has been running into the next. I can only assume a coupla extra days of processing my order will result in my bike showing up next week instead of this. JANDD sent a note saying they've received my order today so I should get the panniers Wednesday at the very latest.
I bought a bivy shelter today and it's pretty slick. It reminds me of some sort of suspended animation capsule or one of those tubes you can sleep in at a Japanese train station.

The utilities, other than water, will be shut off within the next couple of weeks. What do I need That shit for? I've got great camping gear and the will to use it. I'LL USE IT, DO YOU HEAR ME?!

I'm going to see if the toilet still flushes by puking into it.

Wooshy Buzzzz

One thing I love to do is shop for gear. Yesterday I bought a radio powered three ways: a hand-cranked dynamo, a solar array which charges the internal batterey, and two AA batteries. She'll come in handy. Tomorrow (today) I'll buy a tent and have still yet to buy racks for the bike which hasn't arrived as of now.


Lots of other cool little doo dads to get. Look at the previous post. Notice anything unusual for this blog? That's right! A comment! I encourage the posting of more from you all.

I can't wait to ride out to the lake and swim in it.

Charts, Spadas, and a Horse Made of Pipes

Received the maps for my route today save for the Western Express sections. Seems they have enough addendum to warrant reprinted versions to be sent at the end of the month. That's cutting it close. I may have them send the maps, general delivery, to the post in Terlton and I'll pick them up on my way north to Kansas where I'll hook up with the TransAm route.

Another pleasant surprise in the mail. My sidesword finally arrived. She's a beaut. I think I'll take it with me. After all, I will be visiting some of the other fencing schools in our network so I might as well stay in some sort of condition.

Since I actually have the majority of the maps in hand, it's kinda like the journey has somehow started and so...
The name of this blog will change to "Pipe Horse Hobo" as of the next post.

See ya out there, bitches.

Sorry For The Tantrum, Folks.

I've set up a hotmail account so I can send/receive email to/from anywhere. The link is now on my profile so anybody can send a word or two. Might be a nice thing to see once in a while.

The bike, maps, and panniers should be showing up throughout this coming week and it'll sure be nice to finally see this plan materializing in the form of objects. I still gotta get rain gear and a tent but I've already scoped 'em out. Then it's a rack, repair gear, a few clothing items, a first aid kit, head/tail light combo, and that should just about do it. Oh yeah, the kevlar-lined tires, extra tubes, and a pump.

I guess I'll get a helmet, too. Only thing about those helmets is that's how everyone can spot who to hate. Nobody likes cyclists, myself included. Only reason being that so many of them are such fucking yuppies who think their right-of-way extends to riding two, three, or four abreast, obstructing traffic and expecting you to simply pull over to the side, shut the engine down, and wait for their permission to continue. After all, you are on their personal bike track, are you not? If there's a bunch of 'em riding single file, that's cool. When they start obstructing traffic, that's when they gotta die. That's great that they have jobs that allow them to ride during daylight hours, but the rest of us (you) gotta drive. Pretty fucking arrogant to think you'll have no hassle riding a bike down a road with no shoulder during rush hour. Next those whitebread assholes'll wanna walk through Harlem at midnight because the law says they can. Sorry, Biff! The law only protects you AFTER you're dead!

I don't consider myself a cyclist. I'm a hobo who just happens to ride a bicycle. I just read of a married couple who've been riding for three years. THREE FUCKING YEARS! On the road. No house. They just work when they need the money. The wife writes children's stories, however, the article didn't say if she'd sold any of 'em. When their gear wears out they send it back to the company with a critique of its performance and the company sends them new gear!

This only lends credence to my genius.

"'Sposta Be Up Cookin' Bre'fust!"

The money for the panniers was secured today when an old friend bought a gob of books, my FN L1A1 rifle, all its mags and ammo, and I threw in one of my paintings for free. I'll get the bags ordered tomorrow and shipped here second day air. As soon as my other friend gets his tax return in he'll buy the truck and I am then a road dog.

Bills are coming in that I may or may not pay. The idea of this was to quit payin' in, right? It's a matter of principle. I damn-near outright refuse to pay $2.17 plus for gas. Therefore I refuse to pay for utilities other than water. Let the lights go out. Kill the phone. I can update this site and check my mail from the libraries of the world. The weather's just too nice to be unprimitive.

I'm thinking about having a going away party out at Keystone lake. That way everyone can see my rig in action and we can get a little rowdy and not worry about tearing up anybody's place or waking the neighbors.

I guess I'll have to change the name of this blog.

How 'bout "Bubb Rubb's Woo Whisltle Save-A-Thon"?

Love A Rainy Night

Coffee in a cup. fuzzy l'il pups...

I love the transition I've made from the old futon mattress to the floor. The dim light of dawn through the slits in the blinds seems to feel better from that angle.
Why can't the gear be here? Why won't things just sew up? They will, I suppose. I've yet to develop the patience to simply let the schielhau fall in the slot.

Had a sluggish night of bouting with the sideswords tonight. One of the more experienced students said it was the cleanest bout he'd seen me in but it sure felt like slopping around in oatmeal to me. One of the instructors served a headshot to another instructor that hit so well, even with full masks donned, it dropped 'im. He'll be all right. We all know what we're getting into.
Tomorrow night will be our last bout with longswords using the German style. After that we'll go to the Italian style. We switch every quarter, you see. I guess if I get some sleep and a dose of nutrition I'll fight a little better.

I wanna go get some coffee in a cup.

Ribbon o Darkness Under Me

Along with everything I'm selling to go on this pilgrimage, I'm also giving away many amounts of stuff to my friends. Now all the pamphlets handed out to parents of troubled teens note that "giving away prized possessions to friends" is a symptom of eminent suicide. I'd say being stuck in a dead-end job and doling out your entire paycheck to others just to maintain status quo is eminent suicide. That's just ONE rationalization I can come up with on the spot.

I've chucked my futon, pillows, blankets and such. Still justa ton of CRAP to fill the dumpster nicely with. GODDAMN what a beautiful day!

The bike is ordered and should be here by the end of next week. The saddlebags or panniers, as they're called for bikes, should arrive at that time as well. Then it's just a matter of getting the bike fit for racks, stuffing the gear, and waiting for the maps. A few little things will round it out and anything else I need I can get on the road.

Hmmmmmm....They're still having blizzards in Colorado.....

Candlelight Penmanship

Today I order the bike that will take me, under my own power, far and away from here. I calculated the rough mileage of my intended route and discovered that if I have a successful run, I'll have covered WELL OVER 3,000 miles; much of it through desert/great basin terrain and down the spine of California. A daunting task, indeed. The route spans the gauntlet of American landscapes. The rolling hills of Oklahoma, the flat grassland of Kansas, the Rockies, the deserts, the redwoods, the Pacific Ocean, my ol' girl, where Mexico shares the border with California, the lands of Eegah, on through more desert to the Grand Canyon, onward to New Mexico, and finally, back to Tulsa, where the REAL rough stuff begins. Starting fresh.

The weather is getting too nice to sleep. I don't want to waste a single moment. I still have a lot of stuff to sell and give away. I want my kit to be complete before the 15th so I can break it in and do the trouble shooting.

I can't believe that gas costs $2.12 a gallon. I know it's worse elsewhere, in fact, I believe Tulsa still has the cheapest gas in the nation.

Shit, bitches, I already love my new bicycle.

Tramp's Trample

I've gotta say, the closer D-day gets, the more I rationalaize it and make perfect sense of it. I look around and see people who just don't get it. I see people, slaves to fashion, hurkeling around in their monstrous SUVs with cell phones stuck in their ears concerned about keeping to their shopping itineraries.

Gas is ridiculous. There's no way I could afford to drive to and from work every day on what they payed me. My friend and I went to the gas station earlier today and he spent seventy-something dollars to not quite fill up his tank.
I'm crazy for trading it all in for a bicycle? Eight tanks of gas at the rate my friend payed and you've bought my bike that never uses but a squirt of petroleum product in the crank every year. Energy bills are going to be killers and here we are at hot Summer's threshold.

Let it all be cast aside. I'm moving through space like a Tindelos hound. I'll be right next to it all but won't be seen; all the while seeing. My guts are squirming with anticipation.
This is a record. Let it stand.
Let it testify that I'm
LIVIN' IT!