Friday, March 8, 2013


Six inches of snow in March and I’ve had enough. This long, Midwest winter seems endless. If Spring won’t come to me, I’m going to Spring. I loaded up the swift and merciful Japanese Galaxy Traveler and I’m outa’ here. Don’t know where, but South.

I may get as far as the Kentucky border and turn back, or I might keep going right on to Central America to drink tequila with Mexican drug dealers or snort cocaine off the back of Juan Valdez’s donkey. (probably not.)

I may get as far as Tennessee and breathe in the fragrance of fresh-mown grass and return home satisfied, or head to the Gulf Coast and wiggle my toes on a sandy beach under pleasant skies and favorable tropical breezes. Maybe Florida where, in a few days, I could be drinking body shots off the supple bellies of Spring-Break Coeds. (doubt it)

But, damn it I’m going!

I hate interstates and motels, and prefer state roads and campgrounds, but I may have to relax my standards and make a bonsai run down I-65, sleeping in bed bug-infested dumps until I hit fair weather and open campgrounds, for as long as $472.00 hold out.

I’ll thumb out periodic dispatches from the open road in the course of my journey.



  1. Unreal Herm, be safe, stay sexy, look out for kooks and Nyquil loaded nefarious types, seems like a well packed rig, I suspect a Boy Scout heritage, or just some twisted rope and tie-down fetish.

  2. Well, as the French say, Safe travels and ¡Vaya Con Ronnie James Dio!

  3. Alright, go Daddy-O. If you make it to the Gulf....look out for tar-balls between your toes.