By 1973 I had read a whole lot of Jack Kerouac, I had a collection of music that I had made into several cassette compilations of songs about traveling, roaming, and riding the rails. 'Then Came Bronson' the TV show had burned itself in to my id in 1969. And I had no money. I had been to Utah and back and a buddy and I were going to canoe down the Mississippi to New Orleans. When that didn't work out, I had thought about following a girl friend to Kentucky, but she didn't want me. So with about $350.00 I quit the Waffle House Cafe, put most of my stuff (books mostly) in boxes in my mother's garage and hitchhiked out of Bloomington Indiana. That first morning I started out on the main street and as no one picked me up, I walked several miles to the edge of town with my thumb out. The interstate then didn't come close to Bloomington. Around 1:00 pm, just when I thought I would need to walk back to my mother's house and come up with a new plan, I was picked up by a bread delivery truck.
The guy driving was the Waffle House delivery man, whom I had known for the last year. He took me to the freeway and wished me luck. He sort of looked like a young Red Buttons. Nice guy. Contrary to the romantic image above, I had a bedroll and a Credit Card that would work at any Best Western Motel.
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