I have a job. A corporate job. I work there just six months months a year, then travel from spring into fall. The job pays well, but for the six months I’m there the company owns me. Literally. I work long hours not under the sun as I did with the carnival, but under fluorescent lights, at a desk, inside a cubicle. It’s dark when I leave for work, and dark when I return. My commute each way is roughly 90 minutes, from the time I leave one place until I arrive at the other. Soon, everyone will look… Continue Reading Tag Archives: transient
Coping with Post-Travel Stillness Disorder
I have a job. A corporate job. I work there just six months months a year, then travel from spring into fall. The job pays well, but for the six months I’m there the company owns me. Literally. I work long hours not under the sun as I did with the carnival, but under fluorescent lights, at a desk, inside a cubicle. It’s dark when I leave for work, and dark when I return. My commute each way is roughly 90 minutes, from the time I leave one place until I arrive at the other. Soon, everyone will look… Continue Reading Putting the Brakes on Highway Killings
Last week, USA Today ran a fascinating story on the FBI’s Highway Serial Killer Initiative, shedding light on a disturbing subculture of long-haul truck drivers who kill. Turns out they kill a lot. Or maybe there’s just a lot of them. No one really knows. Regardless, the body count is rising.
Over the last 30 years, more than 500 people, mostly prostitutes, hitchhikers and, to a lesser extent, travelers, have been found dead along highways in 48 states. Since the initiative launched in 2004, the FBI has drawn up a list of more than 200 suspects, most of whom… Continue Reading General Happenings at The Feral Scribe
Today is Labor Day, which for many of us spells the end of summer. School begins, vacations end and we begin prepping ourselves for the trappings of winter. I’m spending the day in Madison, WI, waiting for repairs to be made on Purple Thunder, my trusty van that appears to have a rogue wire grounding out somewhere. In the last three weeks I’ve had to replace a battery that was less than a year old, as well as a fuel pump that fizzled out. I was on my way back to Philadelphia when my brake lights, blinkers and speedometer puttered… Continue Reading 
My First Days as a Carnie
Waukesha, WI – Being a Carnie is pretty much what you’d expect it to be: lots of drinking, stories and hard work. My stint began Sunday, in Rosholt, on the final day of the carnival there. Tear down began a 5 p.m. For the next six hours, roughly 20 people broke down just as many rides, loaded them on or fastened them to the trucks. After, almost everyone got drunk, listened to music, cooked food and showered until eventually falling to sleep.
The next morning we tore down camp and hit the road for a four-hour drive to Waukesha,… Continue Reading Joining the Carnival
Tomorrow The Feral Scribe begins an interesting new leg of the this summer 2010 adventure: as a carnie.
That’s right, for the next several weeks I’m traveling around the Midwest with a carnival. I found an ad on Craiglist and within a day I get a call. The lady tells me she needs me up in Rosholt, WI, by midday Sunday. She became really excited upon learning I have a valid driver’s license, adding that driver’s earn more.
So that’s that. I’m running off to join the carnival for a few weeks, after which time I’ll head south, toward… Continue Reading 24 Hours of ‘Rage’ in Indiana
Indianapolis, IN – Not long after stopping off in Indianapolis, I meet “Bonnie”, a 30-something jam band scenester, at a cafe on the city’s east side. Thirty-three hours into a 50-hour bender, Bonnie is mushy brained from the ecstasy she ate at a show the night before. At the show, she met some kids with a bunch of nitrous tanks and ended up at their hotel instead of her bed. One of the guys, she tells me between sips of her latte with a double espresso shot, is at her house. “We raged hard,” she explains. “Sorry if I’m not… Continue Reading Meet Purple Thunder
Meet Purple Thunder, the van I purchased in early March. She’s a 1995 Ford Econoline 150 Conversion van with all of the bells and whistles a road warrior needs for a 9,000-mile excursion through the American hinterlands, including a bed, space, cush seating, plush interior, cruise control, new tires, electricity, window blinds and bangin’ stereo. Simply put: it’s pimp.
Thumbs Up for an American Past Time