The hitchhiker and bad craziness on a Sceptred Isle (part 1)
“My Ironbridge Summer” Vol.1
Exactly two weeks ago on Sunday 8th December I released my tenth self-published book and here is volume 1 of a lucky 7 in support of another book of which I’m immensely proud and from a strangely beautiful summer I’ll never forget.
“The hitchhiker and bad craziness on a Sceptred Isle (part 1)” is chapter 31 out of a total of 56 often brief and punchy chapters in a book totalling 175 pages and which is free to read should you have an Amazon Kindle “Unlimited” package or reasonably priced in both hardback and paperback and here she is, accompanied by a link to the original article and posted in full below:
"My Ironbridge Summer" - link to Amazon
The hitchhiker and bad craziness on a sceptred isle
It was around 11am when I first saw the hitchhiker at the side of the road and even now all these many hours later I still don’t know her name.
It was around 11am when I first saw the hitchhiker at the side of the road and even now all these many hours later I still don’t know her name.
“You’re listening to the Stone Roses” she shrieked with excitement as she nestled into the front seat beside me but I never responded and quickly slammed the car back into first gear for the drive ahead. I couldn’t respond in fact as I was immediately struck dumb by this ethereal beauty who’d fallen into my world: all auburn curls, sun spotted freckles around what appeared at first glance to be the lightest of brown eyes and a smile befitting the sunniest of days when being alive felt right.
“Remember hearing Fools Gold for the first time?” she continued and even if I could have responded the wondrous beauty beside me beat me to the punch. “Reminds me of my college days” she giggled. “Sex in the college fields on a Thursday afternoon before laying in my lovers arms as we stared at the crystal blue sky above”. The conversation had taken a very open and frank beginning but what the hell. The sun was high in the sky, I had money in my pocket, there was a tank full of fuel and “She Bangs the Drums” was appropriately booming out of the car speakers.
We were passing the cricket club as I remember when she lit her first joint and soon smoke rings began curling forward, upward and toward the crack in the open window beside her. All thoughts of watching the road ahead were quickly becoming a redundant reality as one after the other she pierced these perfectly formed rings with her thumb and forefinger. I’d like to say she offered me a drag but all these hours later the memory of our first minutes together are a haze of smiles and scattered one-way conversations, of a life left behind and a life yet to be lived, of sunshine streaking through the windscreen and an unexpected ray of sunshine that had rendered me speechless. Better watch the road ahead I mused to myself. It certainly wouldn’t look good on the arrest report if I didn’t know the name of this sassy lady with a pocketful of drugs as I tried to explain to the policeman why I’d crashed headlong into a farmer’s field rather than keeping the car on the road on the brightest, clearest and sunniest of days.
“Oh turn this tune up!” she wailed “I love this song!”
“So what’s your story, cowboy?” she teased, but before I could stumble an answer she was already singing again: “Sometimes I, fantasize. When the streets are cold and lonely, and the cars they burn below me”. She sighed deeply at the end of the song and I couldn’t help but smile. Questions bubbled inside me: Who was she? What life was she leaving behind? What did she mean by a life yet to be lived? Where was she heading? I was now rigidly staring straight ahead at the road and despite these questions I was still struck dumb. How was this happening I mused? Why? What was her name? What’s your story cowgirl? I smiled to myself that in my younger days I’d have had the bravado to call her cowgirl, a counter-point to her earlier question, an ice-breaker, an in-joke through a smile and a teasing glint in my eye. Maybe I would. Maybe I did. I have no recollection now, and all these hours later I still don’t know her name.
“This is the One” was a signal for the auburn haired beauty to light another joint and repeat her smoke rings trick of earlier. I remember this as distinctly as us both drumming to the beat of the album’s final song. The miles had past in a blur and we were driving south as the sun climbed higher in the sky above us.
“What shall we listen to next?” she asked “and anyway, where are we heading to cowboy?”
“Ironbridge” I said, finally finding my voice.
“Oh how wonderful!” she exclaimed. “That sounds beautiful”.
“It is” I continued. “And you’ll fit right in”.
(To Be Continued)
Thanks for reading. I hope this message in a bottle in The Matrix finds you well, prospering, and the right way up in an upside down world.