Moving back to Stockton was hard. It was a hard time in my life. M was gone. I never would see her again. The last time I spoke to her was on the phone. I need to wash my hair, she told me. It felt like a brush off. So I just let her go. Let her go. It wasn’t easy. If there was anyone in my life I have loved. It was her. Will I love again. I believe, yes.

In Stockton I recall rain. The weather felt like it was wet and empty. I was living in a tiny room. It was with Mother. We got along well. I wanted to work. Looking for jobs. But I wasn’t able to find anything.

Then I contacted Heather. I felt alone. Things had not gone well the last time. But people change, right? I guess we will see. She came down for a visit. And stayed. I never told her she could stay. But I never told her to leave. She did cause problems with Mother. So we moved to my sister’s house.

My sister’s life was changing as well. And I don’t think us being there made things easy. But she never complained. I love my sister. And whatever happens I know she loves me. We may not always be as close as we were growing up. But I think there is a close bond. Heather was hiding drinking from me. This caused problems with me eventually. But also with my sister and her family.

I was looking for work. And I found something. But it didn’t start for a while. Heather finally moved back to her mother. Then I left and went to Portland. I hitch-hiked up to Oregon, stopping to see Heather’s mother. In Portland I visited Michelle. I lost my wallet. And I re-connected with Heather. But things did not go well, again.

In the end I hitch-hiked east on the I-84. My goal was Boulder and the gathering. The first ride was with a lady going to Idaho. We stopped along the way to explore and old industrial facility. And a burned out house. She dropped me off in Boise.

A couple days later and I was back in Boulder. This was my third visit. I still love Boulder.

I went to the library. The health food store. The park. And did tarot on the street. Thinking back there are many memories from Boulder. And to be sure, I need to just write a chapter about the town. It is one of those places where I feel at home now. Even though it is a place I have never lived. It isn’t cheap.

In Boulder I met a man with a van. He was also going to the gathering. We made plans and I gave him gas money. On the day we were set to leave I met him at the van. There were others I didn’t know also going for the trip. But I hadn’t given him much gas money.

It was seven of us in the van. The driver, me and five others. We set out across the great plains. We stopped in North Platte for gas. And I walked down the street to get a sandwich. It was further than I thought. Coming back I saw trouble a block away.

I saw the gas station. Then I saw the cops pulling into the station.

The cops were there when I got to the van. They were doing their thing. Asking for ID’s and getting information about us. It wasn’t going badly until the driver spoke up. He was from California and had a medical pot card.

Even though I tried to stop him, he made it clear to the cops. They gain interest in him. Re-ran his name. Now, things may have turned out the same. But it didn’t seem like a smart idea bragging about pot use. We weren’t in California. And the federal government didn’t acknowledge medical pot. They came back and arrested him. Not a smart move for the officers if you ask me.

With the driver gone they had six people without a ride. I always thought I would have made a comment suggesting, “listen we have to check this and we’ll be back in an hour. If you’re still here we will arrest you.”

And we would have piled in the van and hit the road. Instead we all had to walk to the freeway. And then try and find other rides. I was stuck with an idiot as a partner hitch-hiking.

For example. One of the longest rides I’ve ever gotten from a non-trucker was on this trip. She was going to her home just outside Minneapolis. But she drove us all the way to the northern border of the state. We were headed to the UP. Over 150 miles and almost three hours driving – one way.

When we got out of the car. He asked her for pot. If he had paid any attention he would have known she was a christian. Not a pot smoker.

At the gathering I met my van driver. He said they took him to another county. They held him for a couple days. And let him go. After the gathering he gave me a ride back to Boulder. But along the way i wanted to visit Mount Rushmore.

The monument is in South Dakota, along one route. We got there and it was amazing. Not like the Grand Canyon. Or like Yosemite or Niagara Falls. But uniquely amazing. This was my first visit. My driver found humor in smoking pot. I walked around, wishing I had a camera. But just experiencing being there.

Back in Boulder I didn’t say for long. I had to get back to California for my job. I hitch-hiked out of town. One of my rides was from Salt Lake City to Mother’s front door. The driver was driving from Boulder to Berkeley. A friendly guy. He told me about speeding at night. On one trip to Boulder he told me about averaging 90 miles per hour. This included time he was stopped for gas. He claimed to have made it in 12 hours.

Back in Stockton I turned up for my new job. A summer camp run by the city. It was actually a life changing moment for me in some ways.