I've been holding back something about myself in these columns lately. I've failed to mention that I didn't intend to return to Telluride in the foreseeable future. I haven't said why I'd cancelled my plans to visit Europe. Did I say anything about becoming a truck driver? No, I don't think I ever got to that. I'm ready to come clean.
First let me explain the truck driving thing. I'd been kicking this idea around for decades. With old age about to settle in any day now it seemed like the right time to jump, just before it's too late to do any jumping. Rumor has it that Wal-Mart is paying drivers in excess of $85,000. That's real money. I've lived my entire life in comfortable poverty. I've never imagined myself making this kind of money. I'd only need to bare it for a small handful of years to save up a fair amount; enough to live on for the rest of my life. I'd have to be trained first ,then get some experience behind the wheel. I contacted a trucking firm that trains drivers and helps them obtain a commercial drivers license in return for a year's commitment to drive for them. They agreed to take me on if I passed drug tests, obtained a learners permit ( for a CDL) , and a Colorado medical exam for drivers. I took care of these requirements last week then rode to Salt Lake City for training. Through the whole process I was looking for some good reason to not follow through . The whole thing was preposterous. I'm not the sort of person who hears an engine purr and says " My, that's a pretty sound". I don't own a car. I hate cars. I've never driven a motorcycle ,or an ATV .I hate everything about cars and trucks ,motors ,and freeways. I've dedicated my life to avoiding them. My motivation began and ended with the money. The money center of my brain would light up when ever I thought about driving a semi. The rest of my brain was appalled, and thought the financial part of my brain had lost its mind.
When I showed up at the driver's school campus I knew how crazy the whole plan was. I hated the place. I hated the dormitories, especially mine. I expected to feel like a fish out of water. I felt instead like a fish lost in outer space. It occurred to me that maybe the reason I was having so much trouble picturing myself a truck driver had more to do with it's lack of likelihood than any lack of imagination.
I spent a night at the facility ,but only because I was too exhausted from fighting headwinds all day to go anywhere else. I hardly slept. Having seven snoring roommates was only part of the problem. I learned that I don't have a prayer of sleeping in a room without a window left open. I can hardly sleep in a room at all, at least until I'm used to it, and even then I need.the windows open. Sleeping outside so often for so many years has ruined me for walls and ceilings, and closed windows. Give me fresh air and starlight. Give me bird song in the morning, the best alarm clock. If the wind rises at night I want to hear it tearing at the branches overhead. If it starts to rain, I want to hear big juicy drops of it pelting the tent ,and smell it's influence on earth and plants. You can see my problem. I'm not cut out for what other people consider everyday life. I'm especially not cut out for it when sharing it with seven snoring roommates.
In the morning the bicycle and I rolled out of trucking school. It's probably safe to say that I was the first person to show up there on a loaded bike. I was happy to be the first to leave that way too. It felt like freedom.
What would I do now? Where would I go? Telluride, I thought. I'd go to Telluride. The answer was suddenly obvious. The only thing better than twelve consecutive years in Telluride is thirteen. What could I have been thinking when I considered breaking ties? "To thine own self be true" wrote the bard. Is being true to yourself better than financial security? I don't know but it's always worth trying. When people see me on Colorado Avenue they may say to each other" There goes homeless Dave, a real pauper, but man, so true to himself. " Or maybe they'll say, " There goes old Dave, a trucking school dropout. " Either is acceptable.
First let me explain the truck driving thing. I'd been kicking this idea around for decades. With old age about to settle in any day now it seemed like the right time to jump, just before it's too late to do any jumping. Rumor has it that Wal-Mart is paying drivers in excess of $85,000. That's real money. I've lived my entire life in comfortable poverty. I've never imagined myself making this kind of money. I'd only need to bare it for a small handful of years to save up a fair amount; enough to live on for the rest of my life. I'd have to be trained first ,then get some experience behind the wheel. I contacted a trucking firm that trains drivers and helps them obtain a commercial drivers license in return for a year's commitment to drive for them. They agreed to take me on if I passed drug tests, obtained a learners permit ( for a CDL) , and a Colorado medical exam for drivers. I took care of these requirements last week then rode to Salt Lake City for training. Through the whole process I was looking for some good reason to not follow through . The whole thing was preposterous. I'm not the sort of person who hears an engine purr and says " My, that's a pretty sound". I don't own a car. I hate cars. I've never driven a motorcycle ,or an ATV .I hate everything about cars and trucks ,motors ,and freeways. I've dedicated my life to avoiding them. My motivation began and ended with the money. The money center of my brain would light up when ever I thought about driving a semi. The rest of my brain was appalled, and thought the financial part of my brain had lost its mind.
When I showed up at the driver's school campus I knew how crazy the whole plan was. I hated the place. I hated the dormitories, especially mine. I expected to feel like a fish out of water. I felt instead like a fish lost in outer space. It occurred to me that maybe the reason I was having so much trouble picturing myself a truck driver had more to do with it's lack of likelihood than any lack of imagination.
I spent a night at the facility ,but only because I was too exhausted from fighting headwinds all day to go anywhere else. I hardly slept. Having seven snoring roommates was only part of the problem. I learned that I don't have a prayer of sleeping in a room without a window left open. I can hardly sleep in a room at all, at least until I'm used to it, and even then I need.the windows open. Sleeping outside so often for so many years has ruined me for walls and ceilings, and closed windows. Give me fresh air and starlight. Give me bird song in the morning, the best alarm clock. If the wind rises at night I want to hear it tearing at the branches overhead. If it starts to rain, I want to hear big juicy drops of it pelting the tent ,and smell it's influence on earth and plants. You can see my problem. I'm not cut out for what other people consider everyday life. I'm especially not cut out for it when sharing it with seven snoring roommates.
In the morning the bicycle and I rolled out of trucking school. It's probably safe to say that I was the first person to show up there on a loaded bike. I was happy to be the first to leave that way too. It felt like freedom.
What would I do now? Where would I go? Telluride, I thought. I'd go to Telluride. The answer was suddenly obvious. The only thing better than twelve consecutive years in Telluride is thirteen. What could I have been thinking when I considered breaking ties? "To thine own self be true" wrote the bard. Is being true to yourself better than financial security? I don't know but it's always worth trying. When people see me on Colorado Avenue they may say to each other" There goes homeless Dave, a real pauper, but man, so true to himself. " Or maybe they'll say, " There goes old Dave, a trucking school dropout. " Either is acceptable.
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