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It was nice being on the road, stones and dust kicking beneath car tires. Hands on the wheel, eyes peeled on the horizon as the bitumen and gravel get swallowed under the car, moving him forward. Closer to that never ending stretch of road he now travels on. He was still adjusting to it, to the open windows and open road, and just how large this world could be. And how for the first time in a long time he was surrounded by people- strangers. Faces he hadnβt grown up with, and seen day in and day out. Those faces that gave him nothing but looks of pity, eyes sunken into their features, and smiles softening to sorrow on their faces- because who was Clive if not for a reminder of his own pain. βYeah should do,β Jumping down from where he sat on the bonnet of his car, shoes kicking dust as they land. Head burying into his car for a moment to search. Part of him considers asking the kid what he needed it for, but he decided it didnβt matter too much, it wasnβt like he reached his stereo. Not when his carβs one works just fine. βIt hasnβt been turned on for a minute though.βΒ
Traveling for the last six months in Bonnie and Tatiana's "borrowed" RV was exactly how Cole imagined a never-ending family vacation would be. The bickering (mostly his fault), the veiled threats, the "family time" crowded around a joint after a particularly long day. It took some getting used to for Cole, who was used to being pretty much on his own, but it was good--it was exactly what he needed. Not that he'd ever admit that to their faces. But, like any family vacation, Cole had reached his breaking point. Rather than stick around and yell at them for no reason, he'd decided to get lost.
The older man he'd stumbled upon seemed harmless enough, and eager to help. That was a plus, even the man handing over his stereo so readily sent a wave of guilt through Cole's body. He'd offered! He could've said 'fuck off!' "Thanks. I'm sure I can figure it out," he murmured, taking it from outstretched hands. Cole fiddled with the dials, sliding his Van Morrison tape in to test it. Music pouring faintly from the speaker caused a triumphant smile to light up Cole's face. "Sweet," he glanced up at the man. "I'll swipe a new one next time I'm in town-- bring this back," Cole promised. "You sticking around for a while? For the summit?" Just because Cole didn't know the guy didn't mean he wasn't known-- Cole was aware of his status as newbie at the summit, and he only had a billion questions about how this whole thing worked.
Victoria had been longing for some fresh air for a while. This was what made life on the road so fulfilling. The second you got annoyed with a place or a situation, you could just hop in a car and speed to somewhere uncharted. She wasnβt too excited for the hustle and bustle ofΒ rubbertramps unitedβ¦it was only a matter of time beforeΒ someoneΒ said something uneducated within her earshot.Β But even still, she would try to enjoy the moment for what it was. As her father always said:Β βpeople need peopleβ. She was still committed to testing his hypothesis. Coleβs voice seemed to skew evidence in a certain direction. She moved her hair behind her ears, as if to emphasize the fact that she clearly wasnβt listening to any music.Β βYou should try experiencing life untethered to distractions from time to time. Itβs healthy.β She mocked, with a slight raise of her eyebrow. After a beat, a inquisitive grin climbed across her face.Β βYou look desperately in needβ¦but I donβt make a habit of sharing my things with-β She pauses, taking a haphazard glance at the lanky man before her.Β βWellβ¦anyone, really. Only child syndrome.β
Cole had approached the young woman, yes, but he hadn't taken a good look. As she lectured him, he surveyed her, lips pushing into an amused smile at her unwarranted advice. Off the bat, Cole figured she was different than most of the other tramps he'd come to know-- he assumed this lifestyle was more choice than necessity. Her words further affirmed his assumption; clearly she was booksmart. It excited him for a moment, the prospect of a back-and-forth with a kindred spirit. Even if it was an argument, he was eager to partake. "Untethered from distractions, huh, Plato? I'm perfectly happy watching my shadows," Cole snickered. At her glance, the up-and-down judgment he was used to by now, Cole rolled his eyes, though his smirk remained. "With anyone, or with anyone like me?" He paused, brushed out a wrinkle in his shirt for effect. "I'm not as skeevy as I look. Promise," he smiled, a show of good faith. "I'm Cole..." he trailed off, as if to say, and you are?
Approaching footsteps prompted Benji to peer up from his lawn chair. Heβd been sitting among the hustle & bustle for a while now, picking at the label on his beer in lieu of paying mind to the growing crowd of voyagers. His eyes hung on Coleβs fringe.Β The little man with pink hair seemed desperate and his smile prompted Benji to shift in his seat, bottle clanking against the plastic arm. βYou hear that?β A stifled whiff of an accent could be heard in the βthatβ β making it sound more like βdatβ. He glanced down at the cassette boombox on the dirt beside him. Light music emanated from both internal speakers. The sound quality was hot garbage but who could complain about a stolen good? βThatβs my favourite Roch Voisine tune.β He took a perfunctory sip of beer, pointing the rim of his bottle towards a vacant chair to his left. It was dusted with a light sheen of snow - evidence that nobody had shot the shit with him since his arrival. β-but if youβve got a smoke to spare, the next pick is yours.β Trading proved to be useful skill on the road. Benji had his own reserve of cigarettes but he preferred to sell them. Either way, a cigarette would be a nice way to warm up.
When the stranger opened his mouth to respond, Cole settled back on his heels, tried his ever best not to furrow his brow at the way he said that. It wasn't that it was strange-- it was-- it was that it sounded familiar. At the guy's prompting, Cole pause and listened to the music pouring from the shitty boombox. God, he'd heard this before, but couldn't place it. Roch Voisine. Cole grinned when it dawned on him, His French III professor had been from Montreal, and certainly wouldn't let them forget it. Cole was sure he'd played Roch Voisine for them, too. As he lifted the chair to dust the sheen of snow off, Cole cast a long glance in the stranger's direction. "Roch Voisine-- didn't he wanna be a hockey player?" he asked, sitting down and facing the stranger. "Canadien?" Cole wasn't usually so nosy, Tatiana had trained him better than that, but he'd always loved a puzzle. Crossing right leg over left, Cole snickered at the guy's shitty trade offer. "A cigarette for one song? Nah. Next three." He reached into his jacket pocket, plucking a cigarette out of the case and waving it while he waited for agreement.
lee shrugged in the direction of the other, "i'm old enough to joke." he said simply, staring into the fire for a moment, then looking over his shoulder with a small smile. he hadn't seen this tramp before, and that was part of the reason lee stopped him in the first place. a new face meant a new story. he watched the other, in all his scrawny glory, pull out a pocket knife. lee half worried the guy would slice his finger off with that thing, but figured he was better off saying nothing. besides, before he could even come up with any words of caution, the beer's top was off. lee extended his own bottle, clinking the necks together before taking a gulp. he snickered as resolutions were revealed and again lee shrugged, "i'm not looking for anything other than conversations, but i can tell you like to get under folks skin." like the good boy ma raised him to be, lee rose from the fire and moseyed over to his drinking partner for the night. he stuck out a hand, ready to shake as he introduced himself, "lee bennett." with a charming grin. he hopped onto the truck bed beside the other and gave him a real good look. not bad. he mused to himself, then carried on with his resolution casually, "i wanna get to the grand canyon this year. still haven't seen it." another swig of beer, "have you been?"
Cole took a moment to study the other, under the guise of determining his age. Couldn't be much older than Cole himself, but still, he ventured: "Can't be more than twenty-five." His new friend wasn't bad looking in the slightest, but if Cole had to guess, was a bit of a straight-edge. Something about the guy screamed genuine, which immediately put Cole's defenses on high; nobody on the road was 'just looking for conversations.' Not in his limited experience, at least. Still, he figured the least he could do was play nice, maybe earn a second free beer. "Just looking for conversations," Cole repeated, his tone riddled with disbelief. "Right." He chuckled, though, at the other's read of him. "Maybe so. Did I get under yours?" Cole took a swig of beer, relishing the way it warmed his insides, and clapped hands with the cowboy. Lee Bennett. Another strike-- who revealed their full name that easy? Lee's charming grin made Cole's stomach rumble, and a smirk quickly took up residence on his face. He could always tell when people were checking him out, and he didn't mind Lee doing so at all. "Cole," he offered in the way of introductions. Chuckle falling from his lips, Cole shook his head, "Haven't been. I'm afraid someone would push me in. For getting under their skin." He thought back on the last six months, trying to come up with some place impressive he'd been, but instead a memory from childhood surfaced. "You been to Crater Lake? Ought to, and camp out so you can see the sun set."
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Freddy was still getting used to being on the road. It was a path he never thought heβd take, but here he was, slumming it with the same people he would arrest back home or fuck, do anything worse if he was stationed somewhere. He had an eye on every rubber tramp that passed by and an even closer eye on his car, knowing that some had sticky fingers. Not that he had much of anything valuable, but the fear of getting robbed blind still kept him close by his vehicle as he smoked a cigarette and watched each person that passed by. Some he knew, either from stories or meeting on the road, while the rest just seemed to be faces. Being approached, he plucked the cigarette out of his mouth, blowing a puff of smoke in response. "Walkman?β Brows furrowed, Freddy shook his head. What happened to a plain old radio? He nodded his head towards his car where his stereo was.Β βKnock yourself out, but donβt go grabbing anything that donβt belong to you.β He didnβt like this kidβs look, but that could be said for anyone on the campground.Β βAnd donβt play anything that sounds like shit. Itβll make my ears bleed.βΒ
Maybe it was Cole's fault, for approaching Rent-a-Cop, but desperate times! If he didn't hear something other than the pop shit quick, he couldn't be responsible for his actions. "Walkman. Like, a portable radio?" he offered, not caring to parse out whether it was a question or a judgment. "Geez," he groaned at the implication that he'd steal. He would, but he didn't like the implication. "What ever happened to neighbors helping neighbors? Sharing the wealth?" he clicked his tongue, leaning into the dude's car and clicking on the stereo. He slipped The Royal Scam into the deck and turned the volume up at the first few strains of "Kid Charlemagne." Cole tapped his hand to the beat, glancing over at the older man. "Shit's art. Not everybody gets it." He paused, kicked himself for leaving his cigarettes in the RV. "You been here before? The summit?" Cole was new himself, but he wouldn't reveal that until he got a better read on this guy. He knew better than to trust just anybody, but the looks of this guy secured him a spot at the very top of Cole's 'watch out for' list.
WHAT: friendly ole cowboy offer u a beer WHAT do u do!!
WHERE: back of the pick up, taos
the summit was one of the most exciting times of the year, at least to lee it was. it made him feel like more of a kid than christmas had in a long time, and despite the frigid temperature, he was posted up in the back of his truck watching everyone as if they were moving constellations. then that face walked by and he jumped out of the bed as fast as he ever had, "hey! you!" he drawled, brimming with a quiet enthusiasm. lee bennett has never known a stranger, "want a beer?" he asked, more than ready to immerse himself in the unpredictability of whatever conversation was coming his way. before the other could answer, he was rummaging inside of his cooler for a bottle. he cast a glance that said catch before tossing. beside his truck, he had a small fire going, which he ducked down by for some warmth and teased, "are you even old enough to drink?" an obvious joke. shamelessly, he sat down in the dirt, digging his toes in the rocks by the fire. he couldn't think of a more perfect way to spend the new year. lee sipped on his already open beer and struck up the conversation he sought out to have, "make any resolutions this year?"
God, Cole was glad to be off the road. He'd grown fond of Bonnie and Tatiana and even Alfie, but he was ready to stretch his legs and disappear from the prying eyes of his 'road-mates' for a while. He wasn't so good at blending into a crowd-- especially since he'd dyed his hair-- but he considered himself an expert in slipping away unnoticed. That's what he was trying to do when some guy he didn't know flagged him down. Cole was ready to brush him off and keep his course, but when the guy offered beer, he figured he'd stick around for one drink. Free was free. "Why not." Cole caught the bottle by some small miracle and hoisted himself into the bed of the truck, leaning against the cool metal and surveying his benefactor. "Are you even old enough to care?" he shot back, Cole dug into his back pocket for the utility knife he'd stolen a while back (if you were gonna be skinny, you couldn't be unarmed). He watched the other settle into the dirt, half paying attention to the knife as he pried off the beer's top. Honestly? Cole had forgotten it was a new year. 1985. The days seemed to run together on the road, which he kind of preferred. Dates and times and obligations didn't exist out here. "Hmm. I resolve to be a worse person. I resolve to make no promises. That what you're looking for?" he asked, the gleam in his eye communicating he was at least sort of joking. "You into resolutions and shit?"
Cole tried to be agreeable-- he really did! Try! But hearing nothing but Madonna and Whitney for the last three days was wearing on him, making him more irritable than usual. The second their RV was in park, Cole grabbed his backpack, offered a rushed goodbye, and all but collapsed out of the front door. He was stunned for a second; half of him was expecting all the stories about the summit-- about a bigger group of rubber tramps-- to be just stories. But the camp was full and bustling with commotion. Slinking through the throng of people, Cole located his target. Leaning forward on an arm, he mustered up a friendly smile. "You got a stereo deck that's unoccupied? Or a Walkman? Mine's busted." More than he hated talking to new people, Cole needed to cleanse his ears-- to listen to some real music.
Cole wasn't planned; his mom was sixteen when she found out she was pregnant with him, and her parents kicked her out when she broke the news. So she moved in with Cole's dad and dropped out of high school. That decision would haunt Cole years later-- the feeling that his existence had uprooted and changed his mother's entire life and the accompanying guilt. His dad wasn't a good guy-- an angry drunk and a gambler-- but maybe his parents had been in love once. His dad changed coasts when Cole was five, and his mom would've been happy if Cole never saw him again.
But, money was tight and with no support to fall back on, Cole's mom was one missed shift away from not making rent most months. When business tanked at the salon and she lost her job, she scraped up enough to pay rent, but couldn't keep the lights and the water on. This was enough of a reason to take her son away, and Cole was sent to live with his father in Florida. The arrangement only lasted a few months before Cole ran away, and after that his mom refused to give him up again.
Cole always loved reading and writing, and he got involved with grassroots activism at a young age; only, they wouldn't call it activism. Through the hours he logged at the library and the many nights he spent cycling between his mom's job and helping out at the supermarket down the street from his house, Cole met plenty of other people like he and his mom-- people who were just barely getting by. When they began to organize, to ask for a higher minimum wage or health benefits or paid sick days, he was right there in the thick of it, researching the history of worker's rights and unionization and making signs and attending marches.
His affinity for arguing (and reading and writing and activism and so on) translated to success in the classroom. Enough success that he got into a fancy university that offered him good scholarship money. He continued his activism in college, and funneled his passion into studying Philosophy and History (and French, for kicks). Cole even got a girlfriend-- albeit a fake one to keep people from beating him up. At everyone else's urging, Cole applied to a few law schools. Everyone said he ought to be a lawyer, and his mother was thrilled that it was such a stable and high-paying field. But, Cole got arrested for civil disobedience the same day he'd received his acceptance to Harvard law, and Cole knew he had no intention of going to any more school.
So he returned home after graduation and broke the news to his mom: not only was he not going to law school, he wasn't going to get a 9-5 job and work for the man. Oh, and by the way, mom I'm gay! The conversation didn't go well, and that's the last Cole saw of his mother and his hometown. He hitched a ride with Bonnie and Tatiana and has been chasing the wind ever since.
THE STORY. It's safe to assume everyone you meet on the road is telling you some version of their reality-- mostly fabrication, but some truth mixed in. Cole's story is that he ran away from home because his mom didn't take the news that he's gay very well. It wasn't traumatic, though, he insists! He was already intending to live a nomadic life, this just gave him the push he needed. If you spend enough time with him, it's likely he'll reveal bits and pieces of his past: how he'd keep his mom up half the night reading a new book to her, how he was arrested at a protest in Georgia, how even still he likes to break into churches to play the grand piano like his mom taught him.
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