TIME FOLLOWS ME

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN TRUE NORTH

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

TRUE NORTH

When you're on your own, you have no one to answer to except yourself. You make your own decisions and live with the results. My gut was telling me to get out of California, my head a motion picture reel of words and images, colours and smells.

I was feeling lighter for some reason, but knew my calling was the open road. There might be some road bumps along the way. The freeway was quite busy for mid-morning and I figured I'd pick up a ride pretty quickly. I stuck my thumb out and struck my best Jesus Loves You pose with my long hair, scraggly beard and baby blues. Looked over at a signpost and others before me had carved their names and year they were here. I wondered what was the point, but I scratched a couple of stick people in the dirt. The rain would wash away any trace of me.

Before you could say Jack Frost, a police cruiser pulled up beside me. I walked over to the window he had rolled down and looked at myself reflected back in his mirrored glasses.

The officer said, " You know there is no hitchhiking on the freeway. Can't you read the sign?"

I said, "Guess I didn't see it, I'll go back up the ramp."

"You know I could fine you $50 for this but I'll let you go this time. If I ever see you again I'll throw you in jail."

"I'll go back up the ramp, thanks."

With this close call I weighted my options that were fairly limited. I needed to get the hell out of here so after waiting at the top of the ramp after a few cars passed me without stopping, I walked back down the ramp to the main freeway keeping an eye out for the highway patrol cars.

In not too long a time I was fortunate enough that someone picked me up. I got a few rides and I was heading north. Got picked up by one guy going quite far and he asked me if I wanted to get off the freeway and take coastal highway 1 up the coast. I said, "Sure, sounds good." I imagined the beach boys had probably driven these same roads in their "Woody" with the surfboards tied to the top. And James Dean had flown off the highway and off his mortal coil.

It was way more scenic than any post card could convey. We passed many beaches where people just pulled off the highway, parked and surfed. The sun was shining and the breeze was fair. I heard in my head the Momma's And The Pappa's tune, "California Dreaming."

"All the leaves are brown
And the sky is grey
I've been for a walk
On a winter's day

I'd be safe and warm
If I was in L.A
California Dreamin'
on such a winter's day

Stopped into a church
I passed along the way
Well, I got down on my knees
And I pretend to pray"

Made time and lost time just moving along. I watched the sun sink like an orange into the Pacific waves. Felt the weariness of being a skinny hippy sink into my shoulders, like a gentle weight holding me down, or else I might have floated off onto a cloud or something. Got some shorter rides and the road moved away from the coast and into farmland that looked something out of Southern Ontario.