The week the universe came together part I.

As I mentioned before, I had some bohemian friends that decided to live in an cave in Colorado and eat berries instead of being stuck in the city like a robot servant of the man like myself.

They were travelling off to parts unknown, taunting me with their freedom. They expected me to dump my wife and travel across the country with them.

Was I tempted? Nope.

Was I jealous? A little.

These were friends that I spent nearly every day with for 12 years, through fun, trials, tribulations, danger and crazy women. We had worked together, played together and were closer than brothers.

I don't blame them for wanting to go. They were laid off from the company we all worked for, they had no attachments, debt or worries. The dumb asses didn't have much sense either.

They had blown almost all their money on beer and partying, were driving my old beat to hell Nova with no spare tire and were planning on driving Twelve hundred miles to Telluride Colorado.

They were going to be mountain men, live off the land and be free unlike us dead city zombies.

I filled up their gas tank and gave them a bag of groceries and cash from my dead zombie wallet and sent them on their way.

I had a feeling this was going to be the last I saw of them. Right before they left they asked if I would drive up in August to attend the Telluride Mushroom festival.

I told them I would think about it.

August rolled around and I was pondering going up there to check out and see how the "mountain men were faring" Everything clicked, my wife was going off to some training in Atlanta, I had just quit my job and had a decent car so I loaded up with camping gear, food, guns and clothes.

I'm a conservative planner, I make sure all my ducks are in a row before I do anything. All risks are calculated, i's are dotted and t's crossed.

I was driving my 1986 Grand Marquis. I had this car for about 3 years. It was dependable but not what I would call economical. I decided to take it easy on the way up, not rush and save on fuel. Driving through central Texas 55mph, cruise control, windows down.

This is when things started getting weird.

The drive was relaxing and everything was going well but by the time I had travelled to San Angelo (about 250 miles) my fuel needle had barely moved.

Shit! Not knowing how much gas I have on a long trip makes me crazy. I pulled into a gas station and filled up so I could record how much gas I had used in 250 miles so I could keep track of fuel usage with my odometer.

Four gallons was all I could cram into the gas tank. Fuck! the gas tank is clogged or something .

I considered turning around, but the car was acting fine and I knew there would be plenty of gas stations along the way.

So I kept on going. I stopped for the night in Dalhart Texas and checked into a fleabag motel. Driving in the pitch black on small unfamiliar roads was not for me.

I got up bright an early the next morning, checked myself for vermin and parasites and headed on. I pulled into Telluride at six that evening. The drive up had been gorgeous but travelling on roads with 2000 foot drops and no guardrails made my stomach do back flips.

Too many times I saw two black skid marks trailing off the road into the great beyond.

I made it 1200 miles on 25 gallons of gas. It was inexplicable. I put that aside for now.

First things first. I had to find my buddies.

I stopped into the public visitors toilet to clean up and out of one of the stalls steps my friend Paul. Perfect timing. he was happy to see me.

He looked like shit. His hair was sticking up every direction, he was skinny, his beard looked like a birds nest, he was dirty and disheveled. I thought he had been beaten up and thrown in a dumpster.

His first words to me were: "oh man I'm so glad you came..do you have any food?"

I told him yes and handed him a bag of raisins out of my back pack.

He started eating them like a ravenous animal, He said "lets go to our campsite, thank god I don't have to walk the eleven miles again tonight"

We drove up to a primitive mountain trail several miles up the road. It was steep, rocky and had barely enough room for my car with the tires skittering off one edge, little rocks falling into the chasm below. I could only go about 3 miles per hour on the switchbacks he told me to watch for 1.2 miles on the odometer then we would be there.

That was the only way to tell.

They had a couple of ratty tents , Pauls brother Chip was there along with our friend Chance. They looked worse than Paul. Their eyes lit up immediately when they saw me . "Got any food?" Turns out living off the land isn't all it's cracked up to be.

They had mounted the Nova on a rock while exploring and popped the oil pan.

When offered a ride from a stranger he had them put their gear in the back of his station wagon and he drove off laughing before they could climb in.

These guys were eating berries, drinking snow melt and not much else for about a month. Turns out they were walking into town each day 20 miles round trip looking for a job of some sort so they could eat.

I wanted to laugh but these assholes looked so pathetic I just nodded .

Paul had just landed a job as a pizza cook and Chip a dishwasher.

Telluride was so hurting for people to work the lower level jobs in the town they would hire just about anybody who would show up.

I was there to have a good time and my friends had become money zombies working for the man... Who's laughing now?

To be continued...