TF6S Joins "On the Road"

History is full of them--Lewis and Clark, John Wesley Powell, the Earp family, the Donner Party--people who've tired of their current existence, packed up, and headed West without necessarily knowing what was in store for them other than the hope for a better life.

My story is somewhat similar to the above pioneers--less the bear hunting, cannibalism, saloon shoot-outs and the need to avoid close hair-cuts from hostile Indian tribes. However, I did drive my '87 Chrystler Lebaron from Connecticut all the way to San Francisco with no A/C or struts and, due to my personal finances recovering from a month in Europe, I was forced to eat at every Taco Bell along the way. Dysentery and Cholera would have been much preferred to the permanent damage that was inflicted on my body from those "Runs to the Border."

My colon was weak, but my spirit was strong. I continued West knowing that there was something out here for me that I couldn't find back East, and if I had to push my '87 Lebaron over the Rockies to get there, I'd find a way (author's note: Taco Bell Chalupas are an adequate substitute for gasoline if you need to make a few miles to the next gas station).

For those that have been following the story, Ian Wood embarked on such a journey himself. Prior to last week, I only knew Ian through his blog posts and a handful of email correspondances. To me, he was always this smart guy who'd write and say things that were ten-to-twenty times more intelligent and funny than me, and since he was sleeping in tents under the stars for the last month, I thought it would be hospitable to hosted him and his two British tag-alongs, Rich and Tom, on their way through San Francisco.

And when I mean, "on their way through San Francisco," I mean stay for ten days. And when I mean "stay for ten days," I mean try to kill me with shots of Jagermeister at 1:30 in the morning. Seriously guys, the Taco Bell days have left my innards scared, and Jagermeister triggers the Post-Tramatic Stress Disorder associated with that experience.

Making a long-story much longer, within a few hours of arrival, Ian came to the conclusion that many have come to beforehand: he is going to pick-up all his stuff, move it here and settle down on the frontier.

Ultimately, why?

I think he found the same thing I found here: a culture of people who deliberately welcome others into their "circles." People who take the extra-step to make sure that you are part of everything regardless of what you supposidly "bring to the table," materially or socially. This was perfectly demonstrated when one of my friends, who had never met any of these lads before, baked a whole loaf of banana bread to send them off with this morning (she did proceed to drink copious amounts of 9% beer all night after delivering her package--this isn't Utah baby!).

Now that Ian is going to be a permanent fixture out here, we'll have to find someway to make sure that the Brits find some women who will take them in for a couple of green cards. Don't worry ladies, these guys go down much better than Taco Bell.

Gentlemen, until next time, good luck, safe traveling and know that you'll always have a place in San Francisco to crash if you want learn how to speak the English language properly.

Cheerio!