By the time I’ve rested, loaded my bike, my dirty clothes
that I haven’t the time to wash, piled the rest of my food into my tiny fridge,
it is still dark but the sun is about to rise. Normally when beginning a trip,
I love to listen to KPFA for as far as those radio waves will stretch but I no
longer have a radio so that ritual has gone with the demise of my truck
lighter, which I need for the veggie oil system.
The skies are patches of brilliant red and all hues of
blues, grays and whites this morning like a polished oyster shell. “Red skies
in the morning, sailors take warning”, my dad’s voice rumbles thru my brain as
I think about the marvel on my neighbors’ pathetic faces yesterday asking me if
I felt the rain.
Yes we had a sparrow’s spit of moisture yesterday. I’m
hoping these morning clouds, dense and contoured as sheeps’ wool, are the
foreboding of rain.
I’ve two positives already before the sun pops over the
horizon and blinds those of us heading east, forcing total concentration on
making out the road ahead. I’m slightly surprised as I’m passing thru Castro
Valley and heading toward Livermore, the bastion of nuclear experimentation and
Traffic on the other side has been bumper to bumper since
east Oakland and extending as far as I can see toward Tracy. UFB – yet I might
have influenced more voters going that way…
By the time I take the cutoff to I5, I’ve received a couple
of slightly disgusted head shakes – but mostly I’m ignored. I’m wondering if
I’ve written too much on the back. I see people squinting to read and then
passing by with blank unsure looks on their faces.
A couple of womyn take pics & grin broadly passing
I stop at the rest area where our Black Womyn’s Lives
Matter: Free Marissa Caravan did our first impromptu protest out front of the
bathrooms, holding banners, signs, singing and handing out flyers. I long for a
banner to hold but my truck has to be it this time.
No one speaks to me. In fact, I’m assiduously avoided, or
so it seems. I ask two young men hanging out at a picnic table if they’re
registered to vote, regretting I have no idea where my California voter reg
forms are at. They look at me as if I’ve asked have they seen my elephant.
“We’re felons, ma’am” they reply. I tell them so what, they can still vote in
the state of California. That’s when they tell me they’re from Georgia and
All the way down I5 dotting the sides of almond orchards
and mega farms, I see, with dread, huge red white and blue “Vote to Make
America Great Again” billboards – and we all know what bigotry that stands for
– and then even huger sky blue “TRUMP” sign with smaller print saying
“California Farmers say vote for…”. I guess after traveling thru the country
roads of Vacaville and then having someone graffiti my truck with his bumper
stickers, I’m not too shocked. Plus I know this section of farmland is where
anti-womyn’s rights pro-fetus signs usually appear.
So I’ve decided to engage his supporters when I can with
‘facts’ about Hillary like oh yeah, can’t vote for her, she’s had 5 children by
3 different men, committed adultery many times, gets away with not paying
federal taxes because she’s filed bankruptcy of what a billion dollars? Meaning
she’s screwed little people out of wages, services and materials by not paying
them. Ever. Plus she’s never held a public office before – how the hell can she
go from no governing experience to the highest office of the most powerful
country in the land? And when/if they say ‘huh’? I get to admit my mistake and
say, oh no, that’s your candidate…
But this engagement is predicated on the ability of
people to reason and dialogue. I wonder exactly how many people are unable to
do this in our country? I’ve a feeling we’re gonna find out in November.
IF and I say if if if he gets ‘elected’, the only
‘benefit’ will be that those people in this country that have been able to
sleep comfortably and adjust their blinders willingly, will no longer be able
to claim they cannot see the truth of our country.