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Work 4 Peace,Hold All Life Sacred,Eliminate Violence! I am on my mobile version of the door-to-door, going town-to-town holding readings/gatherings/discussions of my book "But What Can I Do?" This is my often neglected blog mostly about my travels since 9/11 as I engage in dialogue and actions. It is steaming with my opinions, insights, analyses toward that end of holding all life sacred, dismantling the empire and eliminating violence while creating the society we want ALL to thrive in

Tuesday, June 04, 2013

On the road again.... NOT

It is a beautiful, reasonably cool morning, crisp blue skies void of but a singular cloud here and way over there, promising lots of heat soon. A nice breeze is blowing and we are all feeling well-rested, well fed after our crack-of-dawn breakfast of quinoa with apples & cinnamon, and papaya.

And on the road we go.... for a brief moment! Suddenly, maybe 20 miles down the freeway, the temperature gauge swings wildly all the way into the red, the engine dies, and we pull off to the narrow shoulder bordered by tall grass on one side, 75 mile an hour steady traffic on the other.

I don't know where we are - I look around and see nothing but grass and fields, a few clumps of trees here and there, but no freeway signs, no buildings in site, an overpass about 50 yards away.

I examine the engine and see that the dip stick is poked out of it's receptacle and there is oil around the opening. We lift the cab over, I examine everything and crawl under the truck to see if there's any other evidence of oil or water/antifreeze. There isn't.

I think maybe someone fucked with the truck last nite at the rest stop & pulled the dip stick out a little bit. I don't know if that would cause the engine to overheat and oil to spew out the dip stick - I HOPE maybe that's all it is.

Phoebe and I look at each other. We get out a blanket, more papaya and cherries, and make a picnic by the side of the truck with our food and toys for Jasi.

After waiting for 15 or 20 minutes, I realize no one is going to stop so I call the highway patrol. The dispatcher helpfully identifies our exact location - about 6 miles from Springfield, the capital of Illinois.

They show up - two huge white males, although just one gets out of the car. He is friendly, doesn't know jack shit about engines, but knows there's a truck repair place about 6 miles ahead. He offers to call a tow truck.

I decide to try to start the truck - the engine has cooled - and attempt to drive there. He agrees to follow us. The engine starts with little power, but we make it to the dealer.


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