10.20.25 – I Remember Thinking…

I remember thinking… “FUCK THIS! I DON’T CARE IF MY BATTERY’S DEAD,” as I am being dumped out of a Black Hyundai Sedan off to the side of some desolate stretch of farmland in rural Fresno, CA.

“I’m gonna talk to the man, do the thing and be on my way. I’m here to see the client, shake hands and leave,” I say out loud as I wiped a bead of sweat off my face.

My leather dress shoes felt great – supportive. And I was sober enough after my Red Eye flight to meet a client and to look half competent.

Wearing long pants and a button up didn’t feel right, but it looked right. And this world demands sex-appeal. 

Did I feel sexy? Hell no. I was already two flights in, with 10 hours of travel time … all for 5 minutes of chit-chat with an engineer.

However, the last thing I was going to do is ask a customer if he has a power plug to charge my phone, much less hang out more than I have to. Way to show weakness.

ACT CASUAL, DAMMIT…

I knew I should have charged everything up, and it was about to bite me in the ass – but I wasn’t going to let that happen so soon. Time for licking my own ass wound later. For now, I ease into the fuckery by the default

For the client? I was not going to look like a fool at any cost. Even if I became more of one when I walked back out the door. I won’t look like one at first glance. Always look confident – even in the eyes of death.

“So you came all the way out here just for this?” he asked. I muttered something about the remote California outpost of 29 Palms being just five hours away, and basically local. 

Firm handshake and an agreement was quickly made – I was on my way out. 

My uber ride was 3.5 miles away, and I still had a snippet of battery left. But… I could already feel a rocky situation.

The sun was hot and I was standing in front of an encampment of sun-battered mobile office trailers, each no doubt lined with identical cheap wood paneling and desks occupied by company men – so many middle-aged middle managers. 

I did not give a fuck – I was walking in the direction of home – OR HOPEFULLY, AT LEAST, MY UBER DRIVER.

Was it a Red Nissan or a Black Tesla? I couldn’t remember – but it didn’t matter because the car never showed.

There was not a car in sight. Can’t go back now – forward was the only way home.

I squinted into the distance and saw what looked like a busy intersection of a very long and drawn out two lane road bleached by sun.

Two feet and a heartbeat lets go

I knew I had a flight out of Fresno @ 6 – What time was it? 4:00? 5:15? Was I stuck in Fresno?

I WAS NOT GOING TO BE STUCK IN FRESNO as I picked up the pace the sun was beating a load of UV into my face like a slap.

On both sides of me are long acres and acres of orange and apple orchards. Not a corporate establishment insight

Farmland and homesteads scattered every few blocks – LONG BLOCKS. No sign of human kindness. Only fences and growling farm dogs at every entrance. 

This is the farming capital of California but also the hometown of Charles Manson and Robert Downey Syndrome

That insersection was hard to see – it wasn’t really getting any closer – it made sense to stick out my thumb for each passing truck and car (just in casey-case).

At this point I was getting on that fucking plane and I didn’t care how. I was gonna go the fuck home as planned. Like a good asshat.

That intersection was getting closer with each block and as I approached…it appeared to be an auction/fairgrounds area of some type – empty parking lots and tents… shucks. No relief in sight.

No stores, no gas stations. I needed power fast in order to call an Uber to make my plane. I kept sinking back to that thought.

At this point it had to be an hour since I had left my clients train-yard. Or was it two? Was I stuck until tomorrow? Please god, no.

Eventually I came to a a small group of cars and trucks on the right hand side of some orchards.. a black ford pickup sat on some silly rims.

A man in dark-tan cover-alls with his hands in his pockets trying to figure out what the hell I am / why I am walking in the middle of nowhere? He gave a vibe like he’d just got off of a tractor (which he, in fact, had).

As he stood next to his pickup truck, I approached and asked if I could charge my phone.

I mumbled something about needing it to call an Uber to make my flight, and needing to get there ASAP.

As he’s sizing me up -(dress shirt, khaki pants and leather dress shoes) I can tell he’s thinking:

1) Where TF did you come from?

2) Who could you even know out here?

3) Who left an unlikely fool you out here to bake?

But with gusto, he just jumped right in front of my sunbaked insanity with an offer. “I got nothing to do, I can match whatever Uber is paying – I’m okay with whatever.”

“Oh hell yeah – that’s exactly what I need right now,” I replied without a thought. A firm handshake later and we are on the way barreling down a farm road. He loads a dab rig while steering with his knee.

On our way out, he pulls into the farm on the right and asks, “have you ever had a persimmon?”

He hauls the wheel to the right and immediately pulls up to a big tree and yanks a few down through the window.

This was the relief I needed today – not only am I charging – I am on the way to the airpot w/ fresh persimmon juice all over my face.

He’s loading up another dab rig while doing 90 – I still had 30 minutes to get there, but I didn’t mind that much…

He tells me about his business doing demo work and having to hide the fact that he still works on the farms, because people will lowball you when they find out you take farm wages

He tells me about his life, his struggles with business, inheriting a bunch of money and blowing it. Nice guy. This dude was another mover and shaker – hand picked by yours truly.

What can I say? I’m blessed by something that carries me along the way when I stumble.

Magical travels that can’t necessarily be explained – but happen and should be noted.

We reach the Airport.

I open my door and hop out to adjust the straps on my backpack… 

“Oh, by the way – what’s your name?” I ask.  “Joey,” he said as he smirked realizing we didn’t even know each other’s names. 

“Joey… nice to meet you – thank you for the ride – my name is Aaron.”

“Yeah man, I’m always looking for stuff to do, anyway. to make a buck,” he says. “Well that’s great Joey, because we need to move a shitload of train-track South down to 29 Palms. They’re 20 ft. pcs – can you haul that?”

“Yes I have a 30’ trailer – what is this for? Are you stealing it?”

“No, Joey we’re just selling it back to the owner in smaller pieces.”

A nod.

“I’ll be back in a few weeks- I don’t wanna miss my flight, see you soon, Joey.”

And there we have it ladies and gentleman. 

I had enough time to grab a charger and haul ass.

Total distance on foot, 2.5 miles. Total distance traveled with Joey, light years.

Three Flights, Two Feet & a Heartbeat…