Locked out

Finding a place to sleep can present itself a challenge at times, especially in the city. Usually a good forest service road will lead to a nice secluded place and if I am lucky there is a river nearby in which to bathe. The city brings forth a host of issues that make finding a decent place to park a little challenging, there are the busy streets and high traffic, the puke coming from a college drunk, the grumpy old men who have the audacity to wake you because your "sleeping in their driveway". There are all types of impositions that take their toll on finding a peaceful resting ground, and usually its not worth the trouble to stay in the city; however, driving through endless miles of country road scattered with "no trespassing" signs also begin to take their toll on morale.

I am driving across the country in my trusty steed, whom I refer to as Shadowfax. It is a 96 white Ford Ranger equipped with a matching aluminum canopy on the back, which makes for quite the cozy all-in-one living quarters. The kitchen is right next to the bedroom, and the den doubles as my walk-in closet. She is now fully equipped with running water, a big jug i fill up regularly, and add a couple folding chairs and the tailgate becomes a nice venetian dining room. Add Steve, my plant, to the mix and it really is quite homey. It's not so bad once you get past the stifling heat and lack of head room, who needs to sit up anyway? All that said she is my noble companion and what i have come to know as home.

On one fateful night i made the command decision to stay in the city, find a nice calm street and set up shop. I understand that it sounds ridicules, but it's possible to be fairly indiscriminate. How often do you look in the back of a pickup to see if someones asleep in the back? I had just found the perfect spot, a long driveway put me at a good distance from the house, and the large oaks would provide some excellent shade come the morning. Just one problem, as i gatherd my things in the cab i noticed that at the end of this driveway stood an old man with wily hair, boxer shorts, moccasins, tall socks, and a white tank top, standing in his doorway giving me the old stare-down. Not one to be easily intimidated i waited him out. This was nonsense because i wasn't going to sleep there now, he would surely ask some questions and give me unwanted attention, but how could i let him intimidate me? A smirk crested over my mouth and the waiting game was on. his persistance held out, but i was the more determined party. No less than 10 minutes later he went inside his home, at which point i could finally leave.

Feeling quite accomplished i looked for another spot, preferably without any homeowners that would frown upon someone making coffee on their tailgate at 9am. I found just the spot, it was nice a quiet, fences on both sides of the street, no homes in sight, big trees, no street lights, the type of place i dream about. I park and step outside to give a quick stretch and close my door. Disaster. As soon as the door hits I check my pockets. Doors locked and keys still in the ignition. To some this might dampen the spirits, but not this guy, it has the opposite effect. Motivation. It's 11 at night and my spirits couldn't be higher. Call a locksmith? Out of the question, i will not be defeated by such a minor setback. Go to sleep and wait till morning? Even more unreasonable. The problem will be solved now.

I had left the back window of the cab open to ventelate, and this was the perfect place to start. I have two dowells that are about 2 1/2 feet long, which i use to stop the sliding windows from being opened by an unwanted roomate. I climb in the back of my good old steed and grab one of the dowels. The back window connects to the living quarters under the canopy, but even when it is fully opened it isn't much larger than an 10" by 14" hole at the biggest. I grab one of the dowels and decide it best to use it and push the unlock button on the door. I fit one arm and my head through the whole and navigated the dowel as if I were the miestro of the symphony. The wand is flailing looking for it's landing zone on the unlock button. It's no use, just not long enough. The wheels start turning and i think to myself, with both arms extended above my head my shoulders will shrink and i can fit through this small window of opportunity. With wand in hand i dive wand, then arms, and head and shoulders through the small opening. Shoulders through, i get stuck. I cannot push forward no matter how hard i try, but even worse is that i cannot backtrack. I drop the wand and every muscle inside me flexes out of terror. I am stuck and no one can help me.

Here i am wedged stuck in my trucks window, on a dark street away from anyone, with my keys three feet in from of my still in the ignition. After a couple deep breaths i calm enough to try and weasel my way out of this window. I get out, not unscathed there are cuts on my back where i was stuck, but who cares, I'm free! My determination does not die down, defeat is never a possibility. One dowel lost in the cab i try again, but in another fracas i lose that one as well. Time for a change in tactics. I need something long and sturdy. As it hits me i nearly fall over with my own brilliance, a tent pole! The time has passed to go for the unlock button, now i am going for the gold. I extend the tent pole in the canopy and decide i will thread the needle. As if it were some kind of carnival game i stick the tent pole through the key ring, rip the keys from the ignition and bring it back. By some act of god it worked. I celebrate my keys and hold them close, "i'll never let you out of my sight again" i promise aloud.

Sweaty, bleeding, and too worked up to fall asleep i simply lay on my mattress with the same smile as when i out waited the old man, Tony Williams will not be defeated that easily.