Monday, September 19, 2011

Ruthie On The Road, Update--Part Four

It took hours to get a ride out of Estes Park, Colorado but a driver (a, I am not kidding) finally drove me to the Highway 7 and Highway 72 split.

I was left at that junction point, which is almost 2 miles up in the mountains and surrounded by forest, for longer than I should have been.

It started to rain and I huddled on my backpack by the side of the road.

Eventually, after I was soaked to the skin and shivering like a mouse in the middle of a cat fight, I was picked up. And that series of rides took me to a very strange town.

That town, nestled in the Colorado Rockies, is home to the weirdest collection of people in the entire State!

But the town cop did give me twenty-dollars and I used that money to get a much-needed bag of food for the road. Then a woman, who lives in that area, took me home to her house in the woods.

Now that would have been alright, except for the fact that she is a total pothead. She smokes and grows and lives for the leafy, green herbish. When I am on the road, partaking is a first-class no-no. I could fail a drug test and lose shelter (not to mention my freedom) for the night in a community. So I can't afford to go ganja-crazy when I'm on the road. That's just the way that it is.

Well, the woman didn't like the fact that I refused to join her little weedfest and then decided that I wasn't trustworthy. (Paranoiah...big destroyah)

Anyway, she freaked out when she drove me to a nearby town, I bailed and she pursued until a female bystander offered to give me a ride...away from the pot smoking psycho lady.

The lady driver took me down to a place that leads to a ramp to Interstate 70, heading west. That part was okay...but as I put down my pack and sat down on a big rock, I looked around and discovered that she dropped me off at a bona fide biker bar and grille.

I sat in that spot, yesterday, for seven hours before I got a ride out. And during that time, a biker guy dressed in leather walked over to me. He was big and tall and smiling. He looked down at me, straight at me and I looked straight back. We both smiled again before he handed me a folded ten-dollar bill. Then he nodded his head and walked away.

It wasn't the money that was significant in that was the symbolic act of acceptance. The bikers evidently decided that I was okay and therefor allowed me to continue to sit there. So I did.

The biker looked very familiar to me. But that is another story...which will remain untold.

A nice, young woman picked me up and drove me three miles down the Interstate to another town. I ate at Mickey D's, refreshed myself and walked back outside. I assumed the position. And then a man who would very soon change everything...rolled up.

He brought me the place that I am going to call home for the winter (or longer)...because he sort of owns this property.

For confidential reasons, I am not going to go into details about this interesting new home of mine. But I am warm, safe and dry. And while my actual abode is being cleaned, painted and refurbished...I am staying in a two-room suite with a great view of the mountains.

I have cable TV, two comfy couches, a bed, furnishings, a private bath and a stack of great books to read. My meals are covered (someone else will cook all of them) and laundry is on-site and free.

All-in-all, it's really cool. Coffee, tea, juice, snacks and three meals a day are provided to me. And, it appears that I will soon have a computer, with Internet, to use for the winter, as well.

Yes, a Colorado minute...everything can change.

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