The Workermonkey

Thursday, May 06, 2004

Cross Country: Part 1 

# posted by murphy @ 5/06/2004 11:55:00 AM

Flying down Interstate 70, in South Dakota at 85 miles per hour I was half way through the 36 hour drive from Atlanta, GA to Gardner MT. You may be thinking at this point if a trip of that distance could be made in such a sort period of time. Can it? Can a 20 year old man make the trip at such a tremendous speed for such an extension of time? Yes, God damnit yes!

When you've spent the last 3 months living with your father, a man who puts the fear of god into anyone who crosses his path, two sisters, a little brother that steals your drugs and money, than yes. If theres any truth to the notion that you become more like your father as the years pass, then im in trouble. apparently my family gets crazier as they age.

For example, before my time, My grandfather Bill, and his sons were re-shingling the roof of one their homes. the sons, having being instructed by Bill, tie themselves off to the chimney for saftey. He of course fails to do so, falls off the roof to the ground below. the drop of the roof was about 20 feet to the ground and Bill, was to say the least, a senior citizen.

no hospital. no cuts, bruises, scrapes or anything. Not only is the old man not hurt, he demands to go back on the roof. you see as he fell off he implied the tried and true, 'tuck and roll' method. He would have been fine, but as his roll came to its end his head found the wooden leg of one Mr. Sundell. other than being dazed, bill was fine, but the sons obviously would not let him back up top. Hence forth Bill was known as Wild Bill Murphy.

So you can see how i can feel disheartened about my saftey, not only for myself but for my future wife and kids. I love my family and I love my father, but it was time to go. So i packed up my things told my job i was taking a vacation to pick up my brother in Montana and then come back. This was, as you might have guessed only half true.

Back to the Highway. I am stoned, really really high, and making unprecidented time and its the middle of the night. One thing i have realized in my travels is that driving at night gives you one of two advantages. The cops arent out-you can smoke freely and if you want have a beer or two. Secondly all the people are off-- at home in there little beds nuzzled up under the covers and out of the way of the gearjammin road hog known to some as a Chevy, but its true name is BLACK ASS!

I had stopped to sleep at five in the morning in Illinois or Michigan. Reclined the seat and put on my blanket. Sleep did not come. Rarely does it when you are 6'6 and sleeping in a two door 4 cylinder. Fuck it! I was back on the road and before the end of the day i was in Gardner, Montana but my brothers were no where to be found? I had picked up a couple of hitchhikers as i came through the park and out of the mountains. Gardener MT is a small mountain town that borders Yellowstone National Park. Tourist kind of town but still hole in the wall with weirdoes lurking at every turn. the law of the town was as you'd expect. Sheriff. For the purposes of this story we'll call him Rosco. the Yellowstone river ran out of the park and through the town and rafting was big business. My brothers had at the time worked for the Yellowstone Raft Company, which catered to the needs of such celebrities as the Dude himself-thats right Jeff Bridges. The company did very well for itself, my brothers had worked for them for over 2 years, as well as could be expected for a shithole town like Gardiner MT.

Strung out from the road, dirty, hungry and in a general state of disaray, the weed was begining to wear off. Dropped off the hitchhikers in town, stocked up at the local convenience ,and proceeded to drive out to mile marker 5, the home of the Electric Ranch. This is where the story takes a pivital turn.

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