THIS MONKEY'S HITCHHIKERS GUIDE: TWEAKIN' TRUCKER

            I was lucky because I only had to walk two blocks west from where I had that old dude drop me. I had to shake off that encounter. I was about to try and hitchhike w truckers, surely I won't be harassed like that twice in a day I thought, but I had to remain resilient. I had to prepare myself for any curve ball now since they usually swung back like a boomerang on me. These guys are some characters, some damn strange road warriors that roamed weary and tired, tweakin' down the highway and gettin' paid. This was just the first trucker of three, Ronnie, he was a tweaker, the majority of truckers I believe have cleaned up do to the huge risks took if one failed a drug test, which most trucking companies by now do.
             Did Ronnie smoke or use in any form around me? No because he would of had to share and he knew that, and it was so dang obvious that he was flyin' a hundred miles an hour.  The first couple of drivers I asked to get a lift from refused because of some buillshit policy most companies had in place not allowing the truckers to have extra passengers unless it was approved ahead of time.  So at first I thought I was going to be out of luck one more time after having been turned down by the first few I'd asked. Then I came upon Ronnie and he immediately seemed cool and actually happy to have me on board.
      
          "Hell yea kid i could use the company. You just got that one bag, right?" he asked.
          "Yep. You are a headed south I am assuming?" I retorted.
          "Well as far as Oregon I am."
          "Thanks man. Seriously."

        Sleep was a treasure at this point and after he finally shut his mouth blabbing to me about all kinds of shit: weather ballons vs. aliens, lots of complaining about state troopers, which somehow transformed into an in depth overview he verbalized describing the different states' flowers. He was not only a tweaker but he was a hype artist, bullshitting as the authority on every subject he had going in his mind.  I finally faded back into a deep sleep that would make Rip Van Winkle jealous.  I hadn't slept indoors in a couple of days so that cab's chair was so comfortable and before I knew it we had made it to Oregon.  I thanked Ronnie for the ride and all the cigs' he had given me.  Just as the dope monkey I am I climbed out of that truck and within twenty minutes would climb right into another.

    

THIS MONKEY'S HITCHHIKERS GUIDE: BEWARE OF DIRTY 'OL MEN!

        I had awoken to the bustling noise going by on the cold concrete  floor outside of the Tacoma's small Am'track branch office. I had arrived there too late the night before and  the ticket office was closed until the following morning so I had to sleep outside under a cart. I woke up, crawled out from underneath that lil trolley baggage cart.  I remember I received some reaction, shocked expressions from those who witnessed me crawl out  from my space.  I soon realized I didn't have enough money for a train ticket back and thought about sneaking onto the train but didn't even try. I left pretty quickly thereafter pissed off, hungry, tired, and still sober.  I was now only a ten min bus ride away where the closest truck stop was. I was at a bus stop and I wasn't even trying to hitchhike at this leg of my journey.  I was going to take a cheap city bus there but then this little car halts to a stop next to where I was sitting on a bench, rolled his window down, thick pipe tobacco smoked billowed out revealing this pudgy lil' old man.
         "U want a ride young man," he asked.
         "Yea sure," I replied and then added gratitude as I hopped in. "Thanks sir."
         "Where you headed?"
         "If you could drop me at this truck stop I heard about in Tacoma I'd appreciate it. You know where it's at?"
         "Yea-yea no problem," he assured me and then we were both interrupted by a good three mins of peaceful silence. I gazed out towards the stunningly beautiful snowcapped mountains that blanketed the terrain bordering the town. I let my imagination wander far... real far, but then the conversation rendered  as the old dude started asking me all sorts of questions, and they just got weirder as he continued on. This encounter made me realize that there was some sick freaks out there. His questions started off basic and harmless.
         "Im Eugene, or just Gene, whats your name young man"
         "Isaac."
         "Laughter... ha," laughing at himself because he knew thats what Isaac meant.
         "Okay, funny, yea, you're right about that."
         "So Isaac where you from?"
         "TX... Im from D/FW..." and then he got perverted on me.
          "So you got a girlfriend back home," the way he asked I could feel the awkward tension that was coming to slap me across the face.
          "No..., uh no I don't.... " I replied.
          "Boyfriend?"
          "No sir," geez what the fuck was wrong with this guy? "Just drop me right her please," and he did without hassling me further. Thank god he didn't have a damn gun or else he would've made me his bitch. I look back and can laugh at stupid shit like that but it did teach me to be more wary of people and to avoid these situations. I knew as I initially climbed into his car that I could easily take him if he did tried to rob me or something. I really had never been spoken to like that before by an old man. It has to be one of the creepiest instances I would encounter.

THIS MONKEY'S HITCHHIKERS GUIDE: I LOVE SEATTLE COPS!

         I was alone, it was fucking raining in Seattle, go figure... and I was pretty much broke. I didn't have anymore weed. All I had was cigarettes, a new tattoo( I have a dang pot leaf on my back shoulder that I had done in Seattle), rolling paper, and the sickest feeling of loneliness and regret. I guess I was feeling too sober to escape the shame and guilt. I knew I had fucked up royally. All the while my mom, unbeknownst to me, had been harassing my best friend growing up, Derek, for information on my whereabouts. I remember Derek gave me hell for it later that year. He said my mom guilted him into telling her that he had taken Greg and me to the train station. "His blood is on your hands!" apparently she had cried to him stuff like this when he initially tried to play dumb. Man that was the beginnings of a good decade of people that care for me now only worry about me. My mom told me years later that I had robbed her of a vast amount of lost sleep over those years.
          I started to walk south down highway 5,  sticking my thumb out trying to get outta' Seattle, and a cop stopped me. Again I didn't get in trouble even though he explained to me that it was illegal to hitchhike, and I plead ignorance and it worked. Those cops in big cities up north seemed incomparably cooler than those from TX. This nice officer gave me a ride to outskirts of town. I mean this guy let me throw my bag in the back seat, didn't search me,  and so that was the one and only time that I had the privilege to sit in the front of a squad car.