Money for Nothing and Your Chicks for Free

My love / hate relationship with Facebook continues. Today though, I am a happy Facebook follower. Tomorrow, who knows? I often find inspirations for my writing in the many swamps and coves of the FB world.

Yesterday, D, a fellow Facebook user, highlighted the novel, Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, by Robert M Pirsig. It is a book he places on his top five favorite reading list. I have been following D off and on for years and I have noticed his 'Top Five" list seems to have more room than the title of the list would indicate. Regardless, when he puts a read on that list, I know it is one of his favorites.

The title jogged memories of my days as an over the road truck driver.

I spent many days and nights pounding the super slabs and wrestling with brain dead four wheelers. The moments of madness, mayhem and fun were broken up by long periods of mind numbing boredom. Often, days or weeks of continuous tedium would pass between the moments worth writing about and the moments no one remembers.

As it turns out now, there are more worthy moments to extract from the hole in my head I call my memory. Ever since I began writing tales from my past, it has become easier to remember the moments that were over shadowed by the first string memories.

To beat back the boredom of the road, I packed a few books to take with me. Sometimes a Great Notion, by Ken Kesey, A Boy and His Dog, by Harlan Ellison, Stranger in a Strange Land by Robert Heinlein, and Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance are ones that come to mind. There were more: just can't remember them. I would read them in lieu of the engrossing pleasure of watching my laundry wash and spin dry. I would often sit at the lunch counter in a Truck stop and read as I consumed the greasy fare that was my food source those many years. Waiting to unload, waiting on a broker to find a load for me ............. pretty much any dead time not driving, I would read.

When I was hauling Rock N Roll tours, I would often perform small favors for the roadies who traveled in more cramped circumstances than I did. I think it was the 2nd Kinks tour I was on that I agreed to provide a groupie a ride for her new roadie boyfriend who found her at one of the concerts. I had the room, he didn't. Not a problem.

The Zen book was in the sleeper next to the bag I called my library. Having it in my sleeper helped me get laid I think. The groupie, whose name I forget now, picked the book up and mentioned how odd it was to find it in a Big Rig. I remember being a bit miffed. I responded that it was odd a groupie like her would even notice. Now that both of us had satisfied the other where we stood regarding our impressions of each other, that leg of the tour passed pretty much in silence. By the third gig she was in my truck, I was no longer hauling her for the roadie. They had broken up; not sure why. I didn't care.

She may not have wanted to hang with the roadie anymore, but she wanted to stay on the truck. I was okay with it. She was good company actually. Smart and funny. After an pleasantly awkward moment at a truck stop, I was hauling her around for me. That roadie was okay with it. That kind of shit happened all the time. I found it encouraging that there were chicks hanging back stage who were more than just blow jobs on two legs. I enjoyed our time together, but she and I both knew it was not to last. We had differing agendas. Once we got to Massachusetts, she split. Told me she had friends going to Boston College.

Thanks for the ride...... Had a great time ........... see ya.

And so another memory comes to an end. And though this one is definitely a second stringer, I am happy I dredged it up. Digging deep for what I have been stashing in my head these past 73 years is part of my fight to remain lucid and aware until my bitter end.

Keep on keepin on .......................

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I had a song picked out for this post when I was half way into writing it. The lyric "Money for Nothing and Your Chicks for Free" repeated itself as I finished this post up. I thought about the trickle down effect of that line in the real time backstage activities.  How many women, how many outrageous situations did we, who labored to make the stage magic happen, benefit from the cast offs and ignored treats that always loitered backstage. The fringe benefits and lifestyle I experienced while hauling Rock n Roll is not even close to the life I  lived before or since.

Here is Dire Straits and their hit, "Money for Nothing".