I'm pale and tired in the weird bathroom light. Hot, metallic reverberations beat on the back of my skull and insides of my temples. My ears are still ringing from the thumping sound of my guitar rattling through the hollow walls of the Town Pump, a Little Rock dive bar where my band had our album release show the night before. Dee Dee and I speed through another humid southern mid-day for Dallas where I am to load her up and catch a ride to LA.
When the driver, Michael, meets me in Grapevine nine full hours late he is so bald I firmly believe he was born without hair follicles on his head. After quickly devising a way to load Deed's up (ramp into empty U-Haul, ramp into pickup bed, ride into pickup) I take my place in the crowded king cab. Other riders have paid equal sums for their passage. Q, an opportunity seeking brain and Ricky, bicycle riding hipster, clash ethos' for a thousand miles before I'm unceremoniously dumped in Victorville. They found a 15 year old girls head in a backpack here recently and I'm eager to move on. Ricky forgot his damn backpack on the ground and I have no extra bungees. The stark beauty of my packing system is marred by his bungee hogging sack, which I will return to him in LA after a short detour. Off through the desert.
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