Saturday, April 17, 2010

Ruthie On The Road, Update

I am in Winnemucca, Nevada tonight.

But it took a roller-coaster ride to get here.

I left Ontario, Oregon three days ago. But the day before I left, I left my hideout motel and I won't return.

They made me mad.

I have two qualifications when I spend money: 1.) I want what I pay for. 2.) I don't like bad surprises.

And I have been a good customer of the hideout motel for several years now. They have no excuse. They know better.

The Good Samaritans paid for the first week. But when I paid for the second one, I expected the same service. I didn't get it.

No...I ended up with a dirty shower that nobody cleaned, a dirty toilet that nobody scrubbed-out, dirty linen on a bed that nobody changed, a dirty carpet that no one ever vacuumed and two waste baskets that I ended up emptying myself.

Finally, on the day that I asked for service, I watched a maid, drunk on her ass, literally waltz into the room.

It's a good thing that she didn't try a pirouette or she probably would've gotten dizzy and fallen on the floor.

I decided that enough was enough and moved to another motel where I spent my last night in Ontario.

The next day, I caught a shuttle bus out to Highway 201. I hitchhiked into Idaho and headed down Highway 95 toward Winnemucca.

At one point, I was standing outside a small town and an older female stopped and got out of her rig.

"Where are you going?" she asked me. I didn't like her tone of voice.

I told her. Then she launched her mouth into bitch mode and two-minutes later the hag's words were airborne.

"Where do you get your money?" she asked. "Do you beg for money?" "What's your job?"
"Where do you live?"

I told her that my financial situation is none of her business. I told her that I never begged for anything because God always takes care of His own. I told her that my job is to make people think. And I told her that I lived on Earth with her and many other people.

She narrowed her eyes, screwed-up her face and then asked "What do you have that cane for?"

I told her that my left foot has problems.

(Of course, while we were having that conversation, a line of potential rides continued flying by.)

"Well, I'm 72 (In dog years, I thought) and I still work."

I never did find out what her "work" consists of.

"Well, I need someone to do yard work for me and that will cover rent on a room that I have until someone gets money to pay rent." she explained and then finally shut up.

I stood there and didn't say anything either, for a moment.

And then I decided to mentally squash her hateful, selfish attitude with a single, verbal stomp.

"Lady, I have no time for this. Now either give me a ride or get out of my way. I have to get to Winnemucca."

The way I said it would've made Jack Nicholson snicker.

I pictured hurling her into a swamp somewhere while I spoke every word. My eyes took on a sadistic shine. I grinned like someone who had just sharpened an ax.

She backed up.

And after pronouncing me "crazy", jumped back into her rig, revved up the engine, gunned it and was gone.

"Charlie's crazy" I said, still smiling "and I'm going to Nevada."

A guy in a rig that smelled like fried chicken pulled over and drove me down to a truck stop near Marsing, Idaho.

We both thought it would be a good place for me to continue hitchhiking. I thought that getting a ride from there would be a snap. It wasn't.

The truck stop, which is actually a large convenience store with fuel pumps and semi parking is located at a junction point.

Highway 95 south splits off and heads down into over 200 miles of mostly desolate territory.

Traffic goes back and forth but the truck stop is bordered by farmer's fields and not much else.

I ate dinner at the truck stop and then walked over to where I could safely hitch a ride. No one stopped. The sun went down. I walked back to the truck stop.

I sat at an outside picnic table all night long. And I never slept.

The next day, dirty (there are no showers there) and tired, I went back to the side of the road and resumed where I left off.

Nobody stopped.

I finally sent out a tweet on twitter, gave my location and asked for help.

Of course, I expected no response. I followed that with a prayer to God. And He responded.

A woman went past me, thought it over, then turned her rig around and came back. She pulled up and handed me a folded-up fifty-dollar bill.

I said thank you and then said that I needed a ride more than anything.

She asked me where I was going. I told her.

She drove, we talked and then I fell asleep. When I woke up, she had driven me 223 miles to Winnemucca.

She brought me to a motel, gave me more money, said a prayer, formally blessed me and then she was gone.

I dragged what was left of my butt into the motel office.

I paid for two nights there but got a surprise after I got up on Friday morning. The maid banged on the door and informed me that if I wanted so much as my trash taken out that I had to get out first.

I looked at her through bleary eyes and said, "Huh?"

Then I called the front desk and they told me that it was their policy to make people leave the room while the maid cleaned it.

I informed them that I was checking-out early, wanted a refund for the second night and hung up.

I switched motels.

I will sleep later today and Saturday night. And then I will resume my journey on Sunday.

The lady, by the way, gave me her card. I will send her the link to my blog and then she will be able to follow along.

We had quite a conversation on the road.

In between the volcanoes and earthquakes, she proved that there are still some amazing people living in Idaho.

And God truly loves me...no matter where my road goes.

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