marooned

i am stuck without my truck. fucked. outta luck. i asked the guys at the ford service department to be fair. they all laughed and i handed them the keys. but i am home, and finally, a week and a half later, it feels good to be home. the limited options of no transportation leave me in familiar territory. i remember life without wheels. thumb-life. getting around at the whim of good natured motorists, or rapists, as the case may be. fortunately, i had the gift of gab, and talked my way out of more than a couple difficult rides. i remember this one guy, who, when he picked me up, made a physical request. it was back in my jesus-freak days, and i said, oh no, i'm a christian. i couldn't possibly. and he said, i thought christians were supposed to love everybody. i talked him into going to church with me. he found out where i lived and stalked me for awhile, but his inch-thick, coke-bottle glasses gave him away, slumped behind the wheel of his maroon barracuda. it was 1971, i remember, because that was the year i dedicated to christ. its all he's got from me so far. a year, or nearly so. and he's welcomed to it. welcome. whatever. it was a tough year. white knuckle christianity. but it still saves me.