John Steinbeck

The Chool Bus (ch21)

CHAPTER 21: The Forks interview folks in Redding, Sacramento, and San Francisco before taking some time in Monterey with the Steinbeck vibes on Cannery Row.

The gang enjoyed some pizza and a couple beers with Professor T’s relatives in Redding before getting a good night’s sleep ahead of the next grueling leg of the tour. Sacramento, and San Francisco would challenge Billie with their traffic. She learned a thing or two about urban congestion in Portland and the lessons stuck…they were no longer having to apologize for late arrivals. Of course smoothing things over would be much easier if Professor T could take his diplomatic approach up a notch or two, but it’s all in the rearview as Billie was getting real good at choosing alternate routes offered by Siri’s drunk sister now programmed with Rosanne Barr’s salty voice.

“Are you blind AND deaf?”
Roseanne barked at Billie whenever she missed a turn.

***

It took a full day to finish at State University in Sacrimento, then it was off to one of the most storied, cosmopolitan cities in the US. The interviews were to take place at the University of California, Berkley, and this was an eye-opener for the flatlanders riding in the Chool Bus…oh yeah. See, weather in the Bay area is famously mild, a fact that hadn’t gone unnoticed by the nation’s many…many unfortunates living out of cars, vans, and motor homes.

Buck Wellstone could hardly get his jaw off the floor as the Chool Bus past block after block of hovels lining the sidewalks. Vacant lots filled with RVs and tents…small cohorts of unhoused individuals tightly clustered in pungent slapdash micro-communities. It’s a bit much for a Big Sky Texas cowboy to take in.

The mix of folks appearing for the interviews was as diverse as the city itself, and once the final round was complete, the gang was more than happy to be moving on. Not out of any fear or loathing for an overwhelming presence of the nation’s down and out, rather the unsettling juxtaposition of some of the best and brightest cohabitating a mere’s security door from the nation’s doomed, not simply there because Mother Nature’s wrath is less prominent, no…it’s San Francisco…one of the world’s most celebrated cities.

At the end of the day in Berkley, Billie met some of what she considered the most interesting people she had yet to encounter in all her years on the high plains. One was preparing an IPO for his artificial intelligence development company, another impressed Billie with wisdom beyond years, and nearly penniless. She and her rescue dog had been living in one of those tent cities for the past several months. Not sure what to do next, but inclined to hop a cargo freighter to Viet Nam. Clear-eyed about the downsides of life in a communist country, but at the same time, done with the zero-sum, social darwinist hunger games of capitalism.

“Why Viet Nam?” said Billie.

“Not one hundred percent sure,” said her new companion. “I’ve always felt we Americans should try to do something…anything to help folks in South East Asia recover from the devastation the American war did to their land. So, i signed up with an international NGO to help the locals plant a billion trees.

“Trees?” said Billie.

“Yes, even though there’s no way for us to mitigate the human losses, we certainly can help to repair damage to nature’s oxygen-generating forests and urban greenspace. So… we’ll see. Right now looking to get myself and my dog, Buddy, vaccinated for the stay, however long it may end up being.”

Billie smiled, “That sounds like a worthy adventure.”

Billie’s new companion continued: “Proud to be an American, land of liberty within the confines of total freedom and absolute justice.” She went on. “And so, if total freedom ends in anarchy and absolute justice to tyranny, i choose a little of both…liberty. I plan to give way to contrition with mine, and not just for the people of Southeast Asia, but to the land we shredded with our bombs and weaponized herbicides.”

***

Later, on the road to Salinas, Professor T was reacquainting himself with John Steinbeck’s Cannery Row characters and settings as the gang agreed to spend the next day in Monterey soaking in the atmosphere, trying to overlook the touristy vibe and really get emersed in the world created by this great American storyteller.

For one, Professor T, contemplating the tent enclaves in Berkley’s vacant lots, couldn’t ignore a sense of deja vu. How there must be similar stories in there. On Cannery Row the nation’s doomed found ways to thrive through interconnection and mutual support. Necessity giving folks on the waterfront row and in the Bay Area canvas-roof enclaves license to give in to the better angels of human nature. Prostitutes, drifters, iconoclasts, and rebels forming surrogate families protecting inhabitants from the devastating isolation of the modern world.

***

Presently, Professor T turned his thoughts to the brewing storm waiting for him back home in Kansas. His anger was beginning to temper a bit. He thought about the lessons taken from the pages of Cannery Row. Could he beat back the legal attack with angry defiance? Should he put his back into a fight against the natural flow of the universe, or could he defuse Abagail’s attack with acceptance? Regardless of the outcome, could he just simply let things be? He would find out soon enough as he was summoned to appear in court back home because Abigail’s attorneys had filed a suit to collect damages.

The Zoom conference outburst had not helped his case at the University. He was written up for “chronic low performance,” a bureaucratic prelude to being subject to an unfavorable post-tenure review, one step closer to being dismissed. Scheizer & Bok will use this bit of unfortunate news in their case for damages.

“You have ARRIVED, dummy!” Roseanne Barr’s voice barked as Billie steered the Chool Bus into the Salinas RV park where the gang would spend the night.

NEXT WEEK:
The Forks head south (SoCal) venturing close to LA via Santa Barbara and Moorpark, then, a taste of the Bakersfield sound at the Merle Haggard Museum.

GO BACK => Preface and Chapter Links

This Land: NorCal

Oh … my … gawd …
…it’s toooo big… 😉

Now, Ronnie, his conception of California mostly the product of pop culture and literature, had dreamed of staking a claim in the LA music scene back in his salad days. But those dreams evaporated in a mix of spandex, big hair, and MTV-dominated schlock. He washed out in the Denver cover-band scene, selling out for a couple hundred bucks a week. His California Dream ended on New Year’s Eve, 1987.

Fast forward to 2024. The Hot Springs or Busk tour begins its California leg in Eureka, a beach town crawling with former pirates, giving us the heebie-jeebies. The local strip-mall reeked of desperation, beach sand coating every surface like a bad habit. We pushed on to Redding, a digital nomad-friendly place with a familiar feel. Sorta like Garden City Kansas, with palm trees.

Speaking of familiar places, we ventured south to Steinbeck Country… Salinas. Now, Ronnie’s used to half-empty malls, but this one was a different story. Thousands of people, a rainbow of cultures, all having a grand time. It was oddly refreshing, being on the other side of the majority.

And yes, California is home to many small to medium-sized colleges, as well as several famous literary landmarks associated with renowned authors. Jack London State Historic Park, The Henry Miller Library, a museum dedicated to the works of that prominent figure of the Beat Generation. And John Steinbeck National Historic Site, the birthplace and childhood home of that Nobel Prize-winner.

Steinbeck Country… Cannery Row… Salinas… Monterey… after leaving Eureka (scared the hell outta Rocinante), then we hoofed it to Redding (cos they had a PF), then to Salinas… hung here for a while before making our way to the Pacific Coast Highway (PCH) all the way to the LA archipelago (Moorpark, specifically).

Anyway… California isn’t just super-big, it’s also quite diverse in landscape: including a wide range of natural environments, from the Pacific coast to the Sierra Nevada mountains. It offers, at least in the coastal regions, fairly consistent Mild days with most of the state enjoying a Mediterranean climate, warm dry summers and mild, wet winters.

California, as anyone paying attention to national affairs knows, has a thriving economy, with major industries in technology, entertainment, agriculture, and tourism. But all those roads and bridges in sasquatch-infested double-canopy jungles require a somewhat higher bracket of fuel tax… (this is an extreme understatement).

California also has its share of publicly accessible natural hot springs, from Slates Hot Springs near Big Sur to Travertine Hot Springs in the Mono County area. And, in Ronnie’s estimation, the best feature of all is California’s cultural diversity. California is a delicious mix of cultures, with a rich tapestry of ethnicities and traditions… this is our true national character… a glorious stew of the world’s diverse personalities.

To be continued…
Onward through the fog… R.H.

This Land: Utah

REMINDER: This isn’t a typical state travelogue, loopers. This is a kaleidoscopic nightmare funhouse of experience, brought to you almost live from the Pike’s Peak Library’s flickering Wi-Fi. Remember Steinbeck in “Travels with Charlie”? Similar deal. We’re all peering at the world through our own warped lenses. We might bend facts from time to time, maybe even invent a story or two, just to get a point across or, hell, maybe just for a laugh.

Our mission: all 48 contiguous states in a year, a whirlwind tour fueled by hot springs and busking (the jury’s still out on the busking, frankly). This is entry number ten, and truth be told, we’re about hot-springed out. But hey, maybe when the snow flies and the world chills out, those pools of scalding water will look more appealing.

Speaking of the fickle finger of fate, this Utah entry is coming to you courtesy of a rogue trucker and a windshield that looks like it went fifteen rounds with Mike Tyson. First crack? We figured we could live with it, a battle scar from the road. Second crack? Sounded like a goddamn gunshot, leaving a gaping maw in Rocinante’s once-pristine view of the world. Check, and mate. We limped into Vernal, Utah, a dusty outpost seemingly populated entirely by paleontologists. Turns out, the magic replacement glass for our noble mount was not in stock. Combined with the fact that we had another technical problem waiting in the wings. Specifically, Rocinante’s power station link to the motor’s alternator is subject to a factory recall. That problem had a roughly 3-week lead time. So, the options? A: Become one with the Utah outback until the all the tech. planets align. B: Hightail it back to Hays, regroup, knock out a few repairs, catch up on snail mail from the PO box, and maybe, just maybe, have a beer (or three) with some friends. Option B, it was, and a good time was had by all… 😉

Now, back to Utah. Ronnie Hays, our intrepid (and slightly befuddled) explorer, first encountered the Beehive State back in the halcyon days of y2k. A freshly-minted network administrator for a Denver architecture/engineering firm, he found himself wrangling computers for their new Salt Lake City satellite office. Governor Mitt Romney was at the helm then, prepping for the 2002 Winter Olympics, a future success story veiled in construction dust and post-9/11 security paranoia. Ronnie, meanwhile, was juggling the network buildout and a blossoming romance with a lovely darling from Spokane with roots in the Church of Latter-day Saints (LDS).

Fast forward to a potentially career-ending decision. Ronnie, bless his naive soul, packed a yellow Ryder truck – yeah, the same kind that delivered fiery doom to Oklahoma City – with office equipment. Remember those angry militia types? Yeah, not a good look. After unloading the gear in the SLC office, Ronnie decided to grab a Godiva treat for his Spokane sweetheart. Parking spot of choice? Right next to the main LDS temple. Picture this: Ronnie, shaved head and all, looking like a skinhead with a bomb plot, abandoning a Ryder truck in temple proximity. Post-9/11, loopers! Here’s the kicker: No interrogation. No raised eyebrows. Just Ronnie, oblivious to his near brush with disaster, feeling strangely confident about the competence of the Olympic planners, particularly Mr. Romney. Measured and calm, that’s how Ronnie saw it.

Over the next decade, working with the loopers in SLC, Ronnie solidified his impression. These were some of the nicest, most genuine people he’d ever met, rivaled only by the deeply Mennonite denizens of Hillsboro, Kansas. Religious communities, Ronnie learned, are a mixed bag. Some, like the Mormons and the Mennonites, seem to genuinely strive for those good old-fashioned moral values and decency. This coming from a card-carrying secular humanist, mind you.

For the homegrown loopers, Utah’s a paradise sculpted by a celestial stonemason. Think towering crimson cliffs spilling out like a kaleidoscope on fire, and enough outdoor activities to make a grizzly bear envious. Hot springs bubble up like nature’s Jacuzzi, with Monroe Hot Springs a favorite amongst the locals (though let’s be honest, loopers, a quick Google search reveals a whole smorgasbord of options).

Outsiders, those poor bastards lost in a Greyhound bus-induced fugue state, stumble into Utah for the same reasons: the scenery’s a knockout, a visual uppercut that’ll leave you breathless. The “Mighty Five” National Parks – Zion, Bryce Canyon, Capitol Reef, Arches, and Canyonlands – are a crown jewel collection fit for a psychedelic king. And hey, those hot springs add a touch of surreal serenity after a day of dodging rattlesnakes and “Mormon Crickets” (more on that later).

Now, about them institutions of higher learnin’. Utah’s got a decent spread of small-to-medium colleges like Weber State and Utah Valley slinging affordable educations. As for famous literary landmarks? Well, that’s about as scarce as a decent mojito in Salt Lake City. Though Robert Frost’s little stint at Brigham Young does add a curious footnote, like a stray haiku scribbled on a napkin in a Denny’s.

But hey, who needs Dostoevsky when you’ve got a community spirit stronger than moonshine and a work ethic that’d put a Puritan to shame? Utahns are a hardy bunch, the kind who’d build a log cabin with their bare hands and a smile (probably because they can’t drink a decent cup of joe in this state, but hey, more for the rest of us, right?). Sure, there’s a whiff of social conservatism clinging to the air, thicker than hairspray at a Miss Utah pageant. But Ronnie here, your fearless guide through this geological wonderland, can tell you this: it ain’t the in-your-face Bible-thumping you get down South. More like a politely phrased pamphlet tucked under your windshield wiper.

Speaking of windshields, let’s talk about the real star of the show: Utah’s natural majesty. Picking a single “best” spot is like picking a favorite flavor of crazy – you just can’t. But Zion National Park, with its towering red cliffs and slot canyons that look like they were carved by a deranged sculptor on peyote, is a definite contender.

Regarding Utah’s general vibe, their motto is “Industry”…? Now, this seems a bit too generalized to draw any meaning, but when you juxtapose the motto with their famous “beehive” iconography, it makes wagon-train loads of sense. In order for the early settlers to carve out a niche of civilization from the Great Salt desert, it would require singularity of purpose and cooperative action to get ‘er done. Very much like the machinations of bees all working for the interests of their hive in real time.

And the famous loopers? Utah’s got a surprising number of them. There’s Robert Redford, the man with a face that launched a thousand swoons, the Osmond family with their wholesome brand of earworms, Philo T. Farnsworth, the goddamn inventor of television (thankfully, he’s not around to see the logical Kardashian conclusion), and the whole Sundance Film Festival bringing current and future celebrities to Park City every January.

Now, the state’s bread and butter? Tourism, obviously, but mining, tech, and the government sector all play a role in keeping the gears of Utah turning. And for the average Joe (or Jane) punching a clock? The cost of living is reasonable, and jobs are plentiful, making it a prime stomping ground for young professionals still reaching for that “American Dream”.

Finally, a word about Vernal, a desert oasis that popped up like a mirage after we took a rock half the size of a golf ball to the windshield (thanks, Utah!). The desolation was epic, man. On the way there, we saw what looked like a stampede of miniature bison migrating across the highway – turns out, those weren’t tiny bison at all, but Mormon Crickets, these hoppy little buggers that look like something out of Gulliver’s Travels gone bad. Not exactly a threat to humans, but a surefire way to make any halfway curious road tripper slam on the brakes.

So there you have it, loopers. A taste of Utah, the state that’ll leave you with sun-bleached memories, a renewed appreciation for wide-open spaces, and maybe, just maybe, a hankering for a good cup of coffee (because seriously, Utah, what’s the deal?). Until next time, we’re hitting the road again, hoping to appease the windshield-exploding rock gods and delve deeper into the fibrillating heart of our divided nation.

Onward through the fog… R.H.

And now… more with ongoing apologies to Mr. Guthrie.

I saw a stampede…
Cross a Utah Highway…
I felt a calm vibe…
From a Beehive family…
But don’t you worry…
You’ll get your coffee…
Utah peeps can bee and let it be.

Loopcircus