Off To the Road 5: San Francisco

He walked down the road a bit, not getting a ride. He went over to the ocean beach, sitting down, watching the sunset, with beautiful colors, purples in the high cirrus clouds, reds in the far off cumulus clouds. He laid there for quite a while, going to sleep, listening to the combers breaking on the shore.
In the morning, he was extremely hungry. He walked back into town and found a restaurant. He went in, checking out the menu. A DOLLAR for eggs and sausage! - and then there was sales tax too!

"Boy," he thought, "There had better be work in San Francisco!"

After he had gotten back onto the highway, an old pickup truck stopped.

"God bless you son, climb on in," said this grizzled character wearing a plaid shirt, "Just throw your luggage back there."

"Gee, thanks," he said, as he jumped in, "I'm headed to San Francisco, or maybe even LA."

"You're headed for HELL if you don't repent and come to the lord!" he said, almost shouting the hell.

"Well, I was confirmed."

"Confirmation, my foot! You have to confess that you have sinned and know that Christ has died for your sins."

"Well, I did exactly that during the confirmation service."

The old guy just mumbled something, and then rattled off about different bible verses, going through the mountains. He drove just a little too fast for the mountainous roads Rocky thought, "But then he has the Lord on his side - I hope!"

Eventually they got to a few building he said was called False Klamath, he lived up in the hills beyond there. "Just don't go believing in a false God", the old man said, dropping him off, almost taking off before Rocky could retrieve his suitcase.

"You weren't trying to steal it were you?"

Mumbling something under his breath about smart-alecky young'uns, the old man tore off.

The next ride he got was to Klamath - For real Klamath he called it. A man, in his late twenties, picking him up had his radio blaring "Rock Around the Clock" by Bill Haley. He drove more like a madman than the last guy did. "Must be something about these mountains."

The next ride was a little calmer, though this guy complained about Eisenhower and the Republicans; how they were taking us to "Hell faster than fast," he said. "There hasn't been a good Republican since Lincoln, and maybe even he could have avoided war if they had only left the Southern states go."

He droned on and on; Rocky dozing off; when he woke up they had gotten to McKinleyville, going right down Central Avenue. He got out and got a ride to Arcata with a salesman, who talked continuously about has vacuum cleaners. Rocky thought, "Jeez, they sure talk a lot more down here then they do up North. I've heard more talk in one car than I heard all the way across Montana; taking two days to do that to boot."

The salesman dropped him off on the south side of Eureka. He walked down the street, stopping in at a small grocery store, buying some tomatoes to eat.

The next ride dropped him off in the middle of nowhere. They were going to Ferndale, so they turned off long before Fortuna, the next town on the highway. Normally, when hitchhiking, he did very little walking. Going hundreds of miles, even thousands of miles it didn't make much sense to walk at all; worse, walking would cause one to get away from the edge of town where the cars were going slow anyway, having a higher probability of stopping. But here, out in the middle of nowhere, when cars did come, were going much too fast to stop in any reasonable amount of space or time. Someone did stop, though, tires squealing, going by, and then backing up very fast, sliding to a stop right beside him.

"I'm only going to Fortuna," the driver said, "but it'll sure beat here for getting a ride," and then "I'm from New York, but came out here to have an Alpaca ranch."

"What's an Alpaca?"

"Oh, its kind of a cross between a donkey and a camel -- sort of."

In Fortuna, he was picked up by a kid in a hot rod, kind of reminding him the first ride out of Fargo. Seeming like a lifetime ago, only about six weeks had passed. He got out on Redwood Drive, in Redway.

In Garberville, he stopped at Veterans Park, eating his lunch; a Sheriff's patrol car came by. The deputy, inside the car, looked at him closely, but didn't stop.

"I guess I won't try to sleep here," he thought, "I may end up in a bed, but there would be bars nearby."

He walked out to the highway and got a ride to clear down to Santa Rosa.

This driver was as political as the one from Klamath, only this one was conservative.

"Those Democrats are going to get us into a Stalinist type government yet," he said "and they will spend us into oblivion."

Rocky was thinking, "God help us. Between this guy, and that other one we are in deep trouble. They are the type that run for office too."

In Santa Rosa, he, near a dance hall, the Mexican music intriguing him, went in, it being too late for anyone to watch for tickets. When the dance closed he wondered out into a pasture nearby. There were some horses there; he went up to pet them. They whinnied softly. He had an apple in his pocket, having bought it in Garberville, giving it to one of them. He laid down next to the horse, sleeping until morning.

In the morning, a teacher gave him a ride to Petaluma. "I teach fifth grade; I really like fifth graders, they are just becoming aware of the world, and themselves. In earlier grades, they are too busy learning the basics; in the higher grades, they get lost in the outside world."

The teacher dropped him off on the North side of Petaluma. He spent most of the day exploring the town. He went to the Farmers' Market and filled up on fruit. He walked down A Street looking at all the old Victorian mansions. There was a Film Festival going on; and he saw a couple free movies. One he thought was quite good, but the other one ... We'll just say he didn't understand it at all.
Late in the afternoon, after walking to the south side of town he started to hitchhike again. An old Buick with a woman driver stopped. "I'm going as far as Novato, if that'll help."

She told him about growing up in Chicago, getting married, moving to California then, after five years, getting divorced.

They got to Novato just as the sun was starting to sink below the mountains to the West.

She took him right to the house saying, "I think you need something to eat; You are hungry aren't you?"

He said he guessed so; and they went into her house.

She fried a chicken and made some cornbread. After they had eaten, she said, "I think you should stay here to night. No use going out in the dark, and besides if you do get a ride, you will miss how beautiful the bay is. I'm going to take a shower, you need one too. Here are some pajamas: they were my ex's."

He sat by her after the showers, watching the television. She snuggled up to him very close; he put his head against her; she got down on the floor; he got down by her; she stretched out; he stretched out to; they got closer, and closer, a little nibble on the ear, and closer, closer; CLOSER; CL-OOO-Ser. THE boy, THe kid, The MAN, was NO LONGer a VIRgin.

They went to sleep right there, holding each other.

In the morning, she said she had to go to work. She took him over to the highway. He caught a ride in not too much time.

Soon, just after San Rafael and Mill Valley, coming over a hill, there an exit to Sausalito, and shimmering across the bay was San Francisco.