me and barney fife...

TRENDING NOW!!!!TRENDING NO!!!!

1.Elizabeth Edwards (???)

2.Sofia Vergara (another???)

3.Robert Downey Jr. (Ironman III?)

4.Eva Longoria ( HOT)

5.Credit scores (damn...535)

6.Kathy Griffin (psycho)

7.Concorde crash (prayers please)

8.Diddy-Dirty Money (again with diddy...i am so sick of this guy)

9.Government bonds (safer than under your pillow?

10.Holiday wreaths (make good frisbies)

this psot is an excerpt from my book in progress What I Sorta Did On My Summer Vacation

Back during the mildly famous days, I had a few run-ins with the LAW.  Not *COPS* type run-ins mind you. nope. But suffice to say, many a time in close proximity with wherever~i~was's finest.

One night, in Jacksonville, in a hotel parking lot, the dog and I were parked and sawing logs. I was awoken some time darkthirty by a cop.

The cop asked, "Do you have a room here?"

"Nope." I replied. I mean duh! I am sleeping in the back of a van.

*yeah, I have room but the van is much more commfy-shumpfy, so I came out here.*

"You are going to have to move. You can 't stay here." says the cop.

Fine. Whatever. Okay...I spent the night on the coolest beach on the eastern seaboard...I could not find it again with a GPS, maps, and night vision goggles. Well, mebbe, it is not like it was a secret. 

I wrote the song storm clouds, a song about a break-up, well, okay my latest break up, sittng in the van as my psychotic dog Busker, frolicked in the surf. Oh and BTW, She broke up with me on my voicemail. Yeah, I'm cool like that.

There were other Cop~Encounters. Many others. I was a long-haired, street-music playin' hippie~ju-jubee to anyone wearing a uniform of public safety. Again, never anything that would require me to spend any time in jail, but I was always in their radar, as much as I tried to fly under it.

I drove an old van. It broke down all the time. I was scruffy. And broken down rust bucket driven by someone like me, is like  blood in the water for the sharks that keep the Clean~Folk safe.

On one trip up the coast for a change of scenery I drove to Fot Lauderdale. I arrived about 4:30pm. Rush hour. Really.Fun.Shit. Of course the van broke down. Three lanes of traffic, bumper-to-bumper, and i am in the left most lane. There is no shoulder, just a thin stripe of pavement and giant concrete divider blocks.

The.Van.Is.Dead.

I get out.

I lift the hood.

you know.

The international my~shit~is~broken~down~signal.

I see a State Trooper. Coming from the other way. He slows down.

I am saved!

I am happy!

I begin to roll a smoke. He approaches. From the safety of the concrete barrior, hand on hip over his gun, like I am one of America's most wanted. I do a double take. I shake my head and look again. No f*ing way.

He looks like Barney Fife. 

F*ing Barney Fife...

Is coming to my rescue.

This cannot be good.

He says "Whacha doin?"

I say,  "Rollin' a smoke."

He says, "No, you're not"

I think oh hell yes i am, but say, "Okay."

Then he says,  "What's wrong with your truck?"

I say, "I don't f*ckin' know."

"Does it break down often?"

"Yup." *it suffers from demon possesion*

Then he says, "I'm gonna come over there and push you to the right hand side of the road. You can't be broken down on the left." *Suuuure...I guess, but I am broken down.ON.THE.LEFT. Next time I decide to break down I will take that under advisement. f*ckin Barney Fife. This can't be good. Where the F*ck is Andy?*

He whips around thru one of those authorized vehicle only things. Oh, and it has begun to rain. He postions his car behind my van. And not very gingerly, I might add. He accelerates and pushes me thru three lanes of wet road and heavy traffic. I may have sharted. I know I prayed. I know I closed my eyes, but that is not much different than my normal~driving~modus~operandus...*the van is demon possessed, remmeber*  I do eventually get to the PROPER side of the road.

Thank God! Now I am really safe.

And then he drives away.

Gone. buh-bye.

So, I did what anyone in my situation would do. I rolled up my previously prohibited  cigarette. No f-ing way. I smoke it. He just left me. Here on the right side of the road no less, but left me all the same. In a broken possessed down van. And it is raining. m*therf*cker...

I decide to call the Goodsam or whateverthef*ck company that I have paid hundreds of dollars to for just such an emergency. I explain where I am. Just north of Matin Luther King Memorial Highway. About 5 miles north of Fort Lauderdale. They say they will have someone out in about an hour. I guess this ain't Dominoe's. Fine.

I take a nap.

Feed the dog.

Take him out for a poop~walk.

Play some guitar.

Ten minutes have passed.

Or fifty. 

I do not own a watch.

I never know what time it is.

Unless I turn on the radio. So I do just  that. cheesuschrispy rice... Only thirty minute have gone by.

I lsiten to the rain on the roof of the van. I play some more guitar. Make a grilled cheese sandwich. Play some more guitar...

And then fall asleep.

I am awoken by the absense of sound. traffic has noticably subsided. I turn on the radio. It is now 10:30. WTF?

I call Goodsam or whateverthef*ck company.

They tell me the wrecker was there and they could not find me.

On  a whim I ask where they SAID I was not.

And I ask them where the wrecker was dispatched from.

Turns out they dispatched the wrecker from Ocala.

Over 100 miles away.

Turns out that every~single~town in the south has a Matin Luther King Memorial Highway.

who'da thunk it?