“Wading through the waste, stormy winter”

Sweet VirginiaSweet Virginia

Traffic was at a standstill as we headed south towards Manassas. R started complaining that the gummy was bullshit, that he had gotten ripped off, and that he didn’t feel anything. In my experience that’s right around the time they start kicking in, but I didn’t say anything. Then he kept leaning forward to look up at the sky through the front windshield. “Hey, check out those fighter jets.” Sure enough, there were three or four jets flying in a sort of formation. You could tell they weren’t commercial jets by their smaller size and their speed. Now I was interested too. Another group of four passed overhead. Unlike my government worker buddy, I didn’t need weed to get paranoid about what I was seeing. We both started speculating about how there might be some kind of imminent attack. I started checking out the passengers in the cars around me. I assumed most of them had to work for the NSA or CIA. Maybe I could detect fear in their faces? No. They just looked angry and bored. I shared all of this with R. We were of course half kidding, but it was amusing to indulge this little fantasy, especially for R, who was beginning to show signs of gummy success. He turned up the music. We had the Rolling Stones album “Exile On Main Street” playing. Shake Your Hips was the track. R blurted out. “What a fucking ripoff! The Stones stole that riff from ZZ Top’s La Grange!” This started a heated argument. I explained that, first of all, the song is a cover of a Slim Harpo song with the same name and lyrics. Secondly, it was released in 1972. La Grange didn’t come out until 1973. R thought I was making up facts simply because I always thought ZZ Top was stupid and gimmicky with those beards. This was simply not true. To show I was fair, I explained that all the rock bands of the 70s were ripping off riffs from old black blues songs anyway. At least the Stones admitted it. This discussion went on for too long. We got through the traffic jam, and we were almost in Richmond.

I will include links to each of these songs in case anyone else in the world is interested.

We hit no traffic through Richmond. Years ago I would always be able to smell tobacco as I drove through Richmond, but not this time. I was glad to see that the giant Marlboro cigarette carton shaped tower is still visible from the highway, but now it has logos from every Phillip Morris brand.

Somewhere south of Richmond I asked to hear “Sweet Virginia” again. I always loved that song, and I always played it while driving through Virginia.

This started another ridiculous argument. R explained to me that Sweet Virginia was about a woman, and that it had nothing to do with the state of Virginia. I said it could be read as both a woman and the state of Virginia. This really got him going. I could have used a gummy at this point. I won’t bore you with too many details, but here is the gist of the argument:

R – “Jagger refers to her as honey child. He’s talking to her as a person.”

S - “ You can talk to a state as a person. Neil Young did it in “Alabama.” You know, “Alabama, you got the rest of the Union, to drag you along.” (I’m not proud of this. It was a long ride and I was getting tired)

R - “Which one of us is stoned? You’re an idiot.”

S- “No, wait. “Gotta scrape that shit right off your shoe?” Jagger is talking about shit kickers. Rednecks. You, know, Virginia.”

R – “The song is set in California.”

S - “You’re too literal.”

I’ll stop now. We were already in North Carolina. This whole argument put me in a bit of a sour mood. R, on the other hand, was snoring really loudly. I have never heard anyone snore as loud as R. I turned up the music to drown him out. His wife had threatened to leave him if he didn’t get a CPAP machine. I thought about taking a four hour detour to Charlotte. I was getting hungry, and there is a place there called Southern Strain Brewing that accepts bitcoin. I think the owner is a bitcoiner. I believe they hold regular meetups there. This would really piss off R. That would just be an added bonus. In the end I decided not to add any more time to the journey. I was starting to get tired. Instead, I tried to ignore the snoring.

North Carolina is a bigger state than I remembered. Soon I started to watch for the tacky Pedro signs that would start appearing on the side of the road to entice us to stop at South Of The Border. If you have never been to South Of The Border, don’t feel bad. You have missed nothing. It is not a bucket list place. On the other hand, anticipating the approach to the border between North and South Carolina by reading the Pedro signs can be fun, especially if you’re traveling with kids. R gradually emerged from his long nap. He was feeling refreshed and he was in a good mood. That made one of us. R returned his seat to the upright position and turned down the music a little. I was really starting to get tired. He offered to drive the rest of the way. We decided to make the switch at South of The Border, after getting something to eat and filling the tank.

After our break I was happy to crawl into the passenger seat and relax. We were both feeling good. We chatted and made good time as we drove through South Carolina. We talked politics and a little about money. Since he will retire soon, money is a subject that comes up often.

It was a good thing I wasn’t driving. I may have fallen asleep behind the wheel. R started to talk about the intricacies of the state and county pension plans that would determine his monthly retirement income. There is nothing in the world as boring as listening to a civil servant talk about this. Good time, grade level, personal days, unused vacation time multiples, different calculations depending on which years you were working in which bullshit job. It goes on and on. God, I hate the government. I’m jealous too about all that unearned money.

Then I started ranting about government unions. “The whole point of collective bargaining is that there are two sides. Private employer versus private worker makes sense. Two sides bargaining. With the government, you’re all on the same team! You all want more money for doing nothing!” R hated when I started to talk about this. He suggested I take a nap.

I made a few references to bitcoin, which he completely ignored. He talked about how everything costs so much. I pointed out that the U.S. printed too many dollars. He actually was an economics major in college, but he has zero interest in a theoretical discussion. All they got was Keynes back then, anyway. He did get excited when I mentioned the price of silver. His grandmother had an enormous silver serving tray. I remember seeing it when we were kids. It really was impressive. He now owns it. He had it appraised at twenty thousand dollars a few years ago. I mentioned that it was probably worth a hundred thousand now. That got his attention.

Eventually we both got quiet as the mile markers passed by. I looked over and could tell he was not comfortable. He told me he had a headache and that he was tired. He had been driving less than two hours. I had as much sympathy as would be expected among men of my generation. “You fucking baby”, I began. “I drove the whole goddamn way, and you can’t get us through South Carolina?” “Widdle baby has a headache?” In reality, the little break was enough for me. I wanted to drive anyway. He got off at the next exit and I got back in the driver’s seat. He was sleeping within fifteen minutes.

Now was my chance to listen to some live Grateful Dead. R liked the Dead’s studio albums, but he couldn’t stand long jams. I picked out Cornell 1977, turned it up loud, and soon was in the middle of a nasty traffic jam near the Georgia border. I didn’t care. I was in my own world with my music cranked. We finally crossed the border after about an hour slowdown, and traffic then lightened up.

Next stop, Jekyll Island.