white men in white pickup trucks WTF????

I’m excited – and ‘slightly’ apprehensive as I set out on my journey to Asheville to check in with my veggie oil mechanic, and then off to Philly to collect a tank of vegetable oil. Apprehensive because this is my first test drive after spending a fortune and many months getting my old engine rebuilt by my trusted mechanics in Atlanta at 3D Fleet Repair!

And super excited because my mission and my life’s work has been put on hold for many months, due to the condition of my RRB (Radical Ride Baby).

I intended to leave around 5a.m. but couldn't drag myself out of my camper into the driver's seat because I stayed up way too late last night doing last minute chores, including cooking a couple meals so I wouldn't have to stop to buy food. Plus I'd just flown in from the west coast, a good 5 hour flight not to mention the journey by BART to the airport and then waiting to get a standby seat on one of the busiest weeks of the year.

When I finally am ready to leave, the sun is painting a beautiful sunrise to the east behind me - as you can see in my sideview mirror - and the almost full moon beckoning me forward, as if she knows I LOVE to drive when the moon is full. The morning sky is not just as light as it will soon get, but there is a thin film of cloud cover - as you can also see in the pictures below.

I’m slightly dismayed as I approach Asheville, the supposed Berkeley of North Carolina, feeling similar hostilities that I felt shortly after 911 when traveling through North Carolina, the farthest south in 2001 that I had the courage to travel when I first painted my truck with “Thou Shall Not Kill”.

I don’t know still what it is with white men in white pick up trucks – false. I’m sure they are not seeing the fact that I have a much bigger vehicle than theirs but still, they insist on displaying blatant acts of violence.

This time, I only notice the truck passing me on the highway glancing at the driver, registering he’s old and white, and then my entire focus is on the arm extending an ugly handgun toward the front of my vehicle, arcing gently with his slightly faster speed, moving the gun directly on me as he passes by.

What is notable is that I am in the Asheville city proper, not on some alleged country hick road but in Asheville traffic. Does this white man think he’s going to deter me and my mission? He’s flaunting his right to carry and expose this weapon to me or anyone else.

On the other hand, many cars pass me, honking their horns, raising arms in peace symbols or just merely waving.

So begins my first day back on the road in the u.s.ofa.