Friday, August 24, 2007

Johnny Rumble:
Oh the Fun of Last Night

"Well he got on a train at a really young age/Ain't seen the sun since that fateful day/Got a on a train at the age of 18/You should have seen just what he seen"

Good Morning ev-er-y-one! It's Friday, August 24th, and I have to call the California Highway Patrol.

But that get explained later on down the post.

I like Thursdays. I didn't use to like them, but I like them now. I especialy love Thursday nights. I get to hang out with two bonnie lassies and drink beverages while winding down from a week of toil and drudergy (this week was no less fun), and have off the cuff the conversations about nothing at all. Much like an episode of Sienfeld gone horribly wrong.

"A long car train where there ain't no stops/Taking a ride but you can't get off"

The local coffeehouse where we usually meet has decided to shut down really early the past couple of weeks, and I was running late already. Meet at 6pm, I got there at 6:08. The place had already locked up and shut down with my friends still inside. Great start to a great night. After everyting was all sorted out, the concensus was to all drive down to "local" Starbucks and continue our trade of meaningless dribble. After a couple of friendly arguments about people territorial seats (VIVA LA REVOLUTION JESSE!), an itch started to develop about going and doing something. And if any of you have every lived in Marysville/Yuba City, there is nothing to do. One has to go north to Chico or south to Sacramento. Since we went south last week, we were going northbound on SR-99. In my car.

"Mainliner, mainliner screaming down the tracks/Once you get on board that mainline train/There ain't no coming back"

Anybody that has ever ridden with me, or even had to follow me, knows that I do have a perpetual problem with speeding. And we arn't talking 5 or 10 miles over either.

Katie: "Do you know where you need to go?"
Me: (looking in my rearview mirror) "Ah, shit..."
Katie: "Okay, what you want to do is......"
Me: "Naw, not that. Look behind us."

The only thing filling the backwindow at that point were flashing red and blue lights. A collective, yet wholly sympatheitc sigh filled the interior.
"Licence, insurance, and registration please...Do know why I pulled you over?...Do you know how fast you were going?...I clocked you a 82...the speed limit is 65...I'll be back in a bit with your citation."

Fuck. (Yes, Ataxia...go ahead and laugh.) I was lucky that he knocked it down to 80 mph, otherwise I'm pretty sure my bank account would have to cleaned out. There is more to this particular note, but I don't have all the answers I need right now, sooo...northward we go.

"You used up your friends used up your cash/Get on the train and man your gonna crash/Mainliner, mainliner screaming down the tracks"

I had never been to Chico before, so this trip was a first for me. I will never be the same again. The Thursday Night Market they have there is sort of a Farmers Market. Lots and lots of Hippie-type people were out. I kept humming to myself Scott McKenzies "San Francisco." We got there just as shops were starting to close up, so after walking up and down the length of it, we wandered over into the direction of The Naked Lounge. That wasn't a bad place at all. Kind of stank, but they had these bottled blueberry smoothies that I go gaagaa over. Stuff is soooo damn good. More wandering commenced back in the direction of the park.

"Well you lied to your friends about all your pain/Said that you'd never get on that train/Look for a distant town and now/You're never coming down from..."

Chico, as a rule, is filled with the weird, the crazy, and the exotic. I ran into all three at one point or another...

"DAMN....did you see the boobs on her? They must wiegh a ton...each!"

But, I ran more into the crazy. Like one particular guy. Longish knatty hair starting to become natural deadlocks, a short that more or less shredded and then tied back around him, with pants that must have been patched so many times, it made my own vest look brand-new. As he was passing us in the park, he stopped and looked at me for a long moment.

"Hi, Sarge."

My vest may be camo, but it's waaaay more patched up than that. NOBODY, and I mean nobody has ever confused it for the an actual BDU jacket since I got a hold of it. I blinked twice after he spoke to me.

"How's it going, solider?"

It was all I could say as continued is quest for whatever. About 10 minutes later he was back. Saying nothing at all, he stopped and gently placed a small black Bic lighter right next to me. I smiled at him and thanked him with out saying a word. He left to go lie in the grass. I ran.

Looking back, I should have taken the lighter with me, as I'm sure there was something going through his head of importance about the whole affair, but between him and the 50 other down-and-outs, I was bugging. I've delt with D-A-O's before, but never quite like these ones. They were a might bit frightening.

"I saw your mama just the other day/She said that you had passed away/The train derailed right off the track/And now we know you're never coming back from..."

Bee-lining straight out of the park, a place called The Underground loomed large. It was a record shop/sex shop. We shopped the records. I wasn't going anywhere near the back of the store. Nothing bought, but I did find a leather bikers jacket for $100. It was tempting for purchace, but I decided against it. And I decided against a record that I wanted. More money for the "citation."
Finally back at the car, and back in safe-haven is would seem, the rest of the night went fairly uneventfully. I did manage to tag myself in the right testacle, urinated in the woods, and a half-played "sex-point" game was played, but uneventful over all. If this is going to become a normal Thursday night, I honestly can't wait for next week.

"A long car train where there ain't no stops/Taking a ride but you can't get off/Mainliner, mainliner screaming down the tracks/Once you get on board that mainline train/There ain't no coming back/You used up your friends used up your cash/Get on the train and man your gonna crash/Mainliner, mainliner screaming down the tracks!"

Johnny Rumble

Text in orange written by: The Bruisers from the song "Mainliner" off the album Better Days

1 comment:

  1. HAHAHAHAHAHAHA It's about FUCKING TIME! Thats for DAMN sure. Now you need to get another one and than you'll be even with me!!!

    The Underground....I wish there was one of those around here....thats one of my favorite shops. And I'm glad that you had fun.