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 transvestite...no, 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 exchange...it 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 here...to 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, truly...in a Colorado minute...everything can change.

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