Hungry

Ok, ok, so I'm hungry.  It's a wonderful thing to experience now and then, and it's a rare thing for me.  Puts me in touch with much of the rest of the world where hunger is an unwelcome guest who rarely goes away.

It has been raining off and on since early this morning.  I set the tent up last night with the blue tarp over it as a rain fly.  The musician Blue said recently, "Ain't no tent gonna keep the rain out unless it's got a tarp over it."

Well...ok.  I've had tents that are quality and which DO keep the wet at bay, but when dealing with a $20 (new) children's tent from Wal-mart, it's best to err on the side of caution.  (This is not to say that I'm not deeply grateful for this little tent--I am--but I have to deal with the little tent's limitations.)

So I got up and started putting my day together.  All the contents of pockets shoved back in.  Hard to lie on one's side when this and that in the pocket is trying to gouge a hole in one's thigh.  All that put back in.

The big blanket which smells of wet and mustiness...folded.  Rolled inside the tarp.  All of that rolled inside the tent and placed in my little hiding place.  The water bottle shoved into the wire frame on the bicycle.  Yellow poncho donned over backpack.

Pushing off.  Moving carefully.  The trail is muddy, rock-strewn, treacherous, and a fall would not be a thing I'd welcome.  I move like an old man--surprise, surprise.

I could hear the dogs not so far away.  There's a kenneling service alongside the tracks and the dogs are out during the day, so it's a madhouse of yelping and baying and barking once I'm spotted crossing over the tracks.

Today I don't cross directly to the dogs even though that's the easier descent.  I push the bike bumpity-bump along the railroad ties, noting how many of the spikes that hold the rails down are loosened.  Hmmm.  Not good.

And cross over.  The dogs are still barking but that's just what dogs do,  especially dogs that are confined with no chance to run free. 

At the bottom of the slope a woman standing beneath an awning, her little chihuahua barking at me, all David and Goliath-ish.  She's laughing so hard...dang, haven't heard anyone belly laugh like that in ages.  At least I'm doing someone some good.  And that little dog must feel like Popeye after he's downed a case of spinach.  Grin.

Breathing hard.  At the street I stop to catch my breath.  Rain coming down pretty good hickory, as Grandpa used to say.  I push off and no sooner am I riding along than I hear someone yelling.  Some guy across the street, waving at me to come over.

So I do.  A case of mistaken identity.  "Sorry, man," he says.  "I thought you were Cleve."  Cleve.  I've written about him.  Rides a bike, has a rear carrier.  Easy mistake to make when I'm wrapped in the anonymity of a rain poncho.

I ride off, cross to the BS Saloon, and there's a guy with crutches there out of the rain, his stump of a leg dwindling to loose denim.  We exchange the minimal street greetings and I find a few--very few--snipes.  Enough for two smokes.

And as I ride off I'm thinking about this guy who might well have stepped on a land mine in the service of his country.  Serving US.  And here he is, trying to stay dry, trying to make it through another day.  I say a quick little prayer for him:  SEND BLESSINGS HIS WAY.

At LIFT CAFE, I plug the netbook in, check Huffington Post, Google News, and get myself oriented to what's happened since I was last online.  I try to contact Madame LaBelle, but looks like she's off to work.

Hungry.  I rummage through the backpack and find the one orange from last night I'd forgotten about.  Chomp, chomp.  Mmmmm.  Sticky fingers.

Smoke, smoke.  Still hungry.  A bag of hard candy to take the edge off. Peppermints.  Jeez.  Sure getting tired of them.

John, the manager, strides by.  He's a great guy.  "Sure getting tired of this weather," he says.

Um, uh, AMEN TO THAT!

I am so hungry.

So it's 1:09 and I have options.  The first is to pack up and ride UP the hill to the Drag where Veggie Heaven will no doubt give me some rice and veggies.  That would be good, but the ride is so long and so exhausting.

The other is just to tough it out here and wait for the food truck at 6 PM. It almost always comes on a Tuesday.  Wait!!  I just remembered I can look it up online and they'll say if they're coming or not.

Outta here.

Things to do.

Lives to touch, transform.

Dogs to entertain.

Arf.

Elijah, your man on the street.