March 26, 2012

11:15 A.M. I was up at 4 this morning, so I whipped up a quick breakfast and got rolling. All was well until 15 minutes ago. The transmission gave up the ghost... It shuddered then died spectacularly in a cloud of smoke. I shut the engine off, hopped out, and stepped right into a pool of transmission fluid. Great...

So I'm making up a pack with some food, water, extra clothes, some tools, ammunition, a good knife, etc. Basically the pack I started off with when I left home, now with the addition of two pens and this journal. The mission is to find a new ride. I'm near a small town, pretty rural, so I've got high hopes that I can at least find a tractor or something non-electronic.

1:30 P.M. Just my luck, the first tractor I found is gas powered, and the gas is bad. There is some gas that seems to be okay stored in the shed here, but I don't think I should waste any time messing with this thing. However, I did score a bicycle. Onward....

3:15 P.M. Things are looking up, I just traded the bicycle in on a John Deere. It's even got a full tank of diesel. Only cost me four rounds of buckshot to dispatch three rather aggressive dogs I encountered along the way. Seems they enjoy chasing bicycles as much as cars. Hopefully they don't like chasing Deere.

5:30 P.M. I think the bicycle might have been faster. The tractor will do 20 MPH, but not without bucking like a bull on this lumpy road. Anyway, I reached a small town, and I'm cruising the streets in search of a suitable replacement for the Blazer. Whether I find something or not, it looks like I'm spending the night here because I can't make it back to the trailer before dark. So I'm also scouting for a camp site...

7:30 P.M. No luck on a vehicle yet, but I did find a pop up camper to spend the night in. I could have picked a house to stay in, but that would give me the heebie-jeebies, staying in someone else's house. Always has. Does now more than ever, knowing the owners of that house are dead. It would probably take a few houses before I found one where those now dead owners aren't still at home... I'll take the camper.

Started a nice fire, and in a minute I'll toss my can of beef stew in the pot to heat up. Meanwhile I'm happily chewing on some venison (I think) jerky that my tractor donor also provided. Along with half a bottle of whiskey. Just a few sips to calm my nerves. Oddly enough, I'm "homesick" for my camper, and a bit out of sorts, having left it behind. I guess it has become my home now, so I miss it. All my stuff is there, and it feels, I don't know, "familiar" I guess. It's like my little rolling oasis. And now I'm rambling, maybe I should have stopped at one sip...