We have been winter hibernating. Now the ice melts and Spring begins, we leave the Victorian shanty buildings and all-embracing community of Nelson and head on south, towards the Rockies....
Our driver is an unfriendly and humourless man, hair sliding from the top of his head down into a limp ponytail, lazy blank eyes and a shape that reminds me of a slug from sitting still for too long. He runs the bus like a military camp, shouting and giving orders. Which turns some of the passengers into giggling school kids, mimicking him. I watch out the window as we pass by the mountains, small towns and big lakes.
“I like words but I am not crazy about complete sentences.”
He picked us up by the side of the road and took us to their place. We sat at the table and everybody spoke all at once – cutting in and answering each other. As deep in conversation as Grandma Delma was when she spoke to you – her mind was in many different places at the same time. And she would cut through her own talk and say "I look over and see that cup needs to be in the sink and the peanut butter in the cupboard and the cat needs a brush – but my shit – you kids are crazy driving in cars with strangers." Then she looks straight at you and feel she can see right in, and you know she can talk with no words.
We kip on the couch at night – horror flicks on the big TV. We walk in the woods by day, cautiously. Try to help in the house but they won't take it. And we leave before we out-stay our welcome, moving west and into the city.
We kip on the couch at night – horror flicks on the big TV. We walk in the woods by day, cautiously. Try to help in the house but they won't take it. And we leave before we out-stay our welcome, moving west and into the city.
and one more coffee, for the road?
