06/12 Liverpool, England

12 Jun 1985, Posted by Scott An Chora in Travelogue, No Comments.

06/12 Liverpool, England


We were on the road for about an hour after sunrise.   I was passing a small automobile with what looked to be three construction workers on their way to work.  As I sped up to pass them, I caught some of the loose gravel and slid sideways into them.  I’d say we at least traded paint but when I slowed down to deal with the situation they kept on driving.  Eventually I passed them again and looked directly into their eyes and got the impression that they wanted nothing to do with me.  I began questioning if it was just my imagination and reality was that we almost made contact.  Jim was convinced that we made contact and kept repeating “Let’s get the hell out of here”.  We continued along the coast, from lighthouse to lighthouse.  This time we didn’t have to outrun the tide to get back to the mainland.  I began to look forward to sleeping in a bed again and of course taking a shower.  I can only imagine what I smelled like.  I know what Jim smells like.

I dropped off the car and nobody noticed that the spare tire was damaged.  Maybe someday I’ll have to answer to an old elderly woman who spent a half day out on the highway waiting for somebody to bring another tire.  What comes around goes around and the finger was now pointing in my direction.  We let a flat from a German woman who was more than couple cards short of a full deck.  She would merge sentence and subjects that made absolutely no sense. “You sleep motorcycle knife” What?  It made it unnerving that we were sleeping on the same roof.

Today Jim and I switched roles.  Jim wanted to spend his money on seeing The Beatles’ museum so I played “Stationary”.  I wasn’t about to fork out that kind of money to see a bunch of paraphernalia, stuff I couldn’t buy, so that time I waited.  It was “The Cavern” I was interested in checking out.  When we checked out the Cavern, we discovered the majority of action was going on in another pub, just around the block, so we hit that up too.

Once we left the car behind, again I was handed the ‘Carry this much shit?’ dilemma.  It’s not that I had multiple bags, just one backpack that accommodated everything I owned, with plenty of space to accommodate food and bottle of wine.  Since I’ve grown use to only carrying a camera bag, a backpack was no longer the ticket.  Things just got to go.  I don’t mind having my belongings hanging around in a locker or the trunks of car but not on my back everywhere I go.  I had to figure a way to get by with less.

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    Usually behind a cup of coffee waiting for the world around me to wake up I entered today’s thoughts about yesterday’s activities into my travel journal. I’m not a writer, so I’ll apologize in advance if I jump around or seem confused. These are just the thoughts of a young man who left his possessions behind and who believes that getting lost is how one finds oneself.

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