Flying Signs

As I sit on the bench at a rest area on I-75 in Florida, reflecting on my past journeys, more than on the one that lies ahead.  Studying this new mode of transportation I first tried out of necessity, now attempting my seventh trip back and forth from Asheville, NC to Florida. I look to see my discoveries.

What I have learned on my travels is that people would rather ignore what they do not understand or is different in any way than them. Eye contact is quickly reverted more than not. Those who have or care for someone with a disability are friendlier, less fearing of other people. Their challenges opened them to see and touch more than others, those who are oblivious to what lies outside their bubble. Fearing the unknown they bounce merrily along in their box.

Happily I do not have to live in fear anymore. All fears have been taken, the rest gladly given. The fear of losing possessions is nothing compared to the feeling of losing your children, your family, and your friends. The goal of material wealth holds nothing over love of family and friends. It is lonely at the top only if you step on others to get there. Treating others how we want to be treated has just rewards.

First ride out today, interesting ride, and nice guy. Drinking and lifestyle has him looking older than he really is. What was really different was the proposition. He wanted women to pay him for pleasure. I suggested putting an ad on the web. Money for his time, sex for free.

The other men were more subtitle. They did not offer money but made it known the offer of their services was available for free. The sexual services available at the truck stops are some of the cheapest rates around. The suppliers are usually drug addicted who practically give it away for their next high. The diseases that are transported across the Country are scary. The unsuspecting women back home who do not know of the temptations at every stop. I respect the men who honor their women by abstaining from anothers touch.

I appreciate all my rides for not expecting anything more than good conversation from me. Most that have picked me up have been alone. White or black the balance was the same. Fear of being seen with another woman kept a lot of men from picking me up. Those who had girlfriends did not disclose to them their good deed of giving someone in need a ride along their way. Seems just being seen together is an admission of guilt. The few women who gave me a ride had different reasons. While most were from the kindness in their hearts, one did it to feel superior to someone seen as lesser than she. Nice in her own rights, just still suffering from a childhood tainted by the disease of alcoholism and the abuse it brings to the family complex, continuing to afflict the generations to come.

Only a few rides had more than one person in the vehicle. Riding in between two men has to be done in faith. To put fear in the equation makes for an unpleasant ride. Any more than two men and the ride would have been turned down. Same as a few who had offered a ride and were refused, safe arrival at the destination is the goal.

Speaking of serving and protecting, the police have been cool for the most part. It is still our first Amendment right to stand holding a sign. I do not stick out my thumb. I stand or sit until someone stops to talk to me. Sometimes that took hours. Like the first time out I was waiting for two hours until my first hit, pun intended. There were a few police cars that had passed me, nodding to each other as they drove by. Then a man pulled over and asked where I was going then if I wanted to go have some fun? Not even for money? After a compliment to me, he drove off too quickly for me to see if that was a Fraternal Order of Police emblem on his license plate. The location he wanted to take me was in the same direction as the County jail. Across the street was another cop passing by. No, I am not walking the streets. This is the only way I can afford to protect myself from a corrupt Government.

After being stranded at an entrance ramp for seventeen hours, again, a single black man picked me up.  He was only going a couple exits, but enjoyed the conversation about the corruption in Asheville, NC so much that he drove me an extra thirty miles. It was the conversation with his Mother that started me wondering. He gave me his number for the next time I was stuck in the area. After exchanging numbers, he called to inform me if I ever needed anything, beer, bud, a place to stay, just call. Thanks for the offer; I am working on the decriminalization of cannabis and hemp.  I Co-Produced a TV show on medical cannabis and industrial hemp. Another reason Buncombe County Commissioner’s wanted to stop the people’s voice. Too much truth was being told.

Bringing me back to why I started this new way of travel. To stay alive until I could prove my innocence in court, continuing to search for good people in this World. Thankful for every ride I’ve had, that got me to where I am today, waiting for the next ride to freedom.

Some of my findings; it is better to catch rides from rest areas than standing along side the road. I still have not stuck out my thumb. Certain signs work better than others. The destination on my sign got me there. Surprisingly God Bless or Goddess Bless did not get me a ride. My favorite was “Ride Please I am a Good Person” Yes, I met a few more good people too!