On a darkish windy Tuesday I checked the burnpile, brushed the night’s dusting off the solar,
finished unloading and sort of settled in though
come Wednesday it’d cleared and I
was off to Winnemucca on
the Smoke Creek Road, through the frozen wet of Gerlach
and beyond…
[Granites, 8:00 am]; 447 south to
the High Road east
with a flat to change at Sulphur [70 mph on frozen gravel not recommendable] and on to
Desert Valley where roads were clear if
still frozen and
barely two anna half hours later, Winnemucca Mtn coming in and Big O Tires.
There was no waiting whatever at the DMV to renew the license, but quite a wait
to retrieve the tire [forgot AGAIN about how incredibly inefficient those Friendly Christians at Big O are] and finally hit the Interstate. Semis strewn into the median along I-80 east/north
and a tanker overturned off the northbound shoulder…very icy earlier the tow truck driver said.
I paused to pee at the turn for Dun Glen and let the Inkies romp before Truckstops America
where we wondered – who’s Jimbo, anyway? The Blazer had a radical exhaust but…anyway after
that it was a monotonous pound south, past Toulon [once did a painting – “The mill at Toulon”
from when I used to make the trip regularly], Jessup [where I’d to stop off in the Dodge at the
Sink for coffee on the way to Radar] but it’s still over an hour longer to Gerlach by pavement,
even with a tire change on the way. Meanwhile, as the Russians** were merrily starting
World War lll, we made it through Empire and at the morning’s turn for Jungo a last stop with
the Granites, seven hours later, now naked across the desert.
An hour after that the Repo
and sorely back to Wall…
all done in, pretty much.
*Six twos Tuesday, actually.
**Putin in his fit of pique over temporarily losing control of the ‘merican electoral process it would seem…or just immune to histories, recent and not so, by all recent and not so recent “Imperial Powers”. Oh dear; born into one world war, looks like I’ll be going out in one; Life During Wartime.
Sometimes lyrics need to be written out, as I needed these.
If this just takes up too much space feel free to delete.
Heard of a van that is loaded with weapons
packed up and ready to go.
Heard of some gravesites,
out by the highway, a place where nobody knows.
The sound of gunfire, off in the distance,
I’m gettin used to it now.
Lived in a brownstone, lived in the ghetto,
I’ve lived all over this town.
This ain’t no party, this ain’t no disco,
this ain’t no fooling around.
No time for dancing, or lovey dovey,
I ain’t got time for that now.
Transmit the message, to the receiver,
hope for an answer some day.
I got three passports, a couple of visas,
don’t even know my real name
High on a hillside, the trucks are loading,
everything’s ready to roll.
I sleep in the daytime, I work in the nightime,
I might not ever get home.
This ain’t no party, this ain’t no disco,
this ain’t no fooling around
This ain’t no Mudd Club, or C.B.G.B.’s,
I ain’t got time for that now/
thanks for this and a superb batch of photos,
F
Well, yess…and an incredible performance, too! L. told me that was when they were inducted in to the R&R Hall of Fame…hence the “any questions” at the end…
like the lyrics
like the photos
like living in Canada (even if we have trucker convoys infiltrated by neo-nasty-nazis and far righters much of which turns out to have been financed by US alt-right groups. sigh)
like that I’m not in Ukraine. what a shitshow.
This account goes a long way to answering that all-too-common question: Why would anyone want to live “out there?”
Why indeed…and if you don’t get the answer just stay…over “there”.
nice lyrics, and I remember the painting “mill at toulon”
superb desert light
Great you remember the Mill, B…I do, too. Always liked that one…
The winter colors are exquisite — loved the powdered donut tires — but the bare reddish new branches add just the right color to that otherwise relatively monochrome landscape.