Learning From the Gypsy Riders
Posted on 01. Dec, 2011 by admin in Gypsy Bikers
by Zeke Wedgewood
I departed from the wonderful company and advice of the gypsy riders yesterday with a completely different mindset about my journey. I took highways and back roads instead of zipping down the interstate. I stopped as often as I liked in order to stretch, talk to locals, and try to absorb whatever town or city I had stopped in. I did not rush, but above all I planned on searching out my own “gypsy camp” or free camp site just off the road somewhere.
This was my biggest hurdle, but I felt that I had learned so much about the criteria to look for in a camp sight from Scotty Kerekes, Jimi Dean, and Michelle Hope that I would have no problems. I knew to look for roads that looked like they hadn’t been used in a while, often signified by grass growing or a fucked up mailbox. What I hadn’t thought much about was how hard it was to find this shit in the dark when it’s below 40 degrees out and your nuts have literally frozen off. That is correct, I now have no nuts.
I stopped 3 times at three possible camps. The first was a chunk of farm land
that had some kind of refueling station under one of those covered driveway type deals with fresh tracks in the gravel and running water and electricity, but off to one side of this field was an area I could tuck myself back into the tree line and be assured a night but maybe not the morning of sleep. I kept thinking to myself, “I haven’t shaved in three weeks and I look like a total fucking bum. If I was a farmer and I found some tattooed hobo camped by all my nice equipment, I’d shoot me just to teach the other hobo’s a lesson.” Growing up in the stix has given me a healthy fear of rednecks.
The second was a truck stop. The gypsy riders had advised that when all else fails there’s always a truck stop. Then I would be able to get a free shower ticket off of a trucker that didn’t need it in the morning. All I had to do was be inconspicuous and not look like a bum. I do look like a bum and the truck stop in question backed up on all sides to homes and businesses, including a church and what appeared to be some kind of daycare, judging by the playground. These aren’t the kind of people that would welcome the excitement of the unknown in any any conventional sense, let alone when that unknown is the creepy tattooed biker camped in their back yard. Back in the saddle.
Finally I stopped on the edge of Rayne, LA. I can see a vacant lot where there
might be some construction going on but there is nothing but trees and mounds of dirt around it. However, the only way to get there is through someone else’s yard. So i decided to drive all the way around it in every direction, which never lead me to an entrance, but did drop me in the parking lot of a Days Inn.
Defeated and colder than Eskimo pussy, I checked in. Mission failed, but lesson learned. Until i get better at this, I will look for my camp sites in the daylight.
I’m setting out again this morning a little earlier, freshly shaven, and with renewed determination. At least I got to load up the saddle bags with free food from the continental breakfast. Grabbing silver linings where you can get them.
Follow Zeke’s adventures on his facebook page at http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=1448311835
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