Fuckin' brilliant. Musician that I hope sweeps neil young & dylan (whom I love more than life itself) under the rug, and defines another trail for our generation. Talk about a true voice man.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E9Mp88A5eTs&feature=related

I want to make a law that will execute people who feel the need to purchase a full cart of groceries in a 15 and under line.

There comes a point, usually after 38 hours of driving, where your car begins to turn into a homeless shelter. A point where air fresheners only make the smell situation worse. Cat's start to infest the back seat and even birds start to target the top hood of the car. That, in all its glory, is my car sitting in downtown Portland. I have hit a new low. But on the upside, it's a free hotel room in every city that I travel to. Gadoooosh!

Bus Stop.

One small story in the old memory bank. And I'm going to copy and paste it straight from the milk utter of late Summer. This is, and will be, the most "wtf" story of my life so far. Next time an attack on my life happens, i'll remember to keep a little kitty sack of heroine stuffed inside my backpack. This is what I wrote on a flight. Coolest thing ever was I conversed with and sat next to the director and writer of the original Meet the Parents, Greg Glienna.

(July 18)

I'm sitting on a plane taking my third flight to LA in a short while. I've just driven from Oregon to Los Angeles, and Los Angeles to Michigan with my buddy Sam in under 31 hours. Caffeine filled goodness I will never forget. Believe me, it's the only time i'll deal with a delicious Mickey D's morning.

There has been so much happening that I need to get it down. Gosh, I've given up on some dreams but prayed about others and here I am. Fuckin' here I am folks. Sitting next to Greg Glienna of Meet the Parents eating the pack of Saltine Crackers they offer as dinner on an AA flight.

Last time I wrote was months ago and much has happened. Most interesting was ending the AmeriCorps service early. 300+ hour months of legal slavery. Everyone, and I mean everyone felt as I did... overworked, no days off, hot days and no pat on the backs or even a thank you. So you know what I have to say to those greedy upper staff at Northwest Youth Corps ... Fuck you for taking us for granted. I hope that your greed will come back in a form of Karma. And don't EVER throw a basketball at my ball's again, Joe. I play good D, so deal with it.

(I had a basketball thrown at my junk.)

Ok, so after leaving, I was stranded in this crazy town called Happy Camp. I hiked 18 miles. Hadn't slept. Looked homeless, but the faces of others were worth the mental and physical state I was in. People were drawn to my presence. How couldn't they though? I was dressed in sweat, dirt, and blood. Had a 70lb pack on. My beard was blonde from all the sun. Call me Chris McCandless. It was a weird and wonderful sensation to tell people my story. Most that I chatted with had been through much more than my small stint of trail work.

A little hitch hike, a long road trip and I was close to getting back home after 2 days trying to leave Happy Camp.

Two hours from Eugene is a city called Medford. The bus stop was there, and it was my only chance of freedom aside from just walking home. WHAM!! After a 9 hour wait for the bus, I got attacked at 2am. As I sat talking with two homeless gentleman, a Steel Reserve carrying heroin addict raced in front of me and wanted to fight. Shirt was ripped off, he was all tatted up. Me, dead tired, had sat there not sure what to do. After 30 minutes of a guy weaving back and forth, he finally calmed down. Needless to say, I rolled him a cigarette which he quickly threw to the ground and took offense to. A lot more happened, but I finally made it home to Eugene at 5am. Three days after the long hike to Happy Camp. I walked the two miles home from the bus stop and slept for a good 10 hours. (Picture soon to show me in transition.

Well, I better get back to eating my cracker's for dinner.

Diabetes Pizza Man.

In the first week exiting the Desert of Tucson our AmeriCorps group came across a Vietnam Veteran eating his dinner at a local pizza joint. Now, I normally wouldn't consider this situation to be abnormal. The vet, who is blessed with a slowly receding hairline and greasy long uncut hair, was watching basketball on a far tv. Motorized wheelchair? Absolutely. The guy didn't have any legs upon further examination. Naturally, this is a guy I need to talk to. So we ordered beers, pizza and chatted.

Time passed and something struck me about this ... hmm, hero ... of ours. No utensils necessary, Vet was eating an entire pizza, toppings only, with his bare paws. Washing eat bite down with a growing number of Guiness Beers. Now, this isn't that crazy. But, I sparked a chat with him shortly after sitting due to the fact that he was by himself. Not to mention he had most of the pizza on his shirt.

Only the toppings, huh?

Yah! Doc told me the bread wasn't good for my diabetes.

Sure, sure. And the beer.

Yah, these are sugar free.

Awesome, I didn't know that. Are you a Vet?

Sure am. Got my legs shot off first week. Still getting paid by the government, so I like to treat myself to a nice dinner.

Sure, sure. I'd probably do that if I didn't have legs as well. Fancy place.

Now, put into context the situation. A growing diabetes problem, no legs, yet he wolfed down what had to be two pounds of cheese and a total of 7 Guiness beers by the end of the night. 7 of us could not put down one pizza on our own, just to give you an idea of the enormity of these things.

To my surprise, he left by saying he'd catch us on the trails. An embarrassingly drunken standing ovation on my part was the only way to see him out.

Neal "The Paddle" Steeno: Man, Myth, Legend.

Stories from the road.

Last night an idea appeared before me. I'm going to compile all of the stories that have unfolded over the past year. One will be published every week (for suspense).

So saddle up partner.

Story time.