Enter: Sunshine

As we roll into the Triple T (that's TTT, with two slightly smaller T's flanking a large one in the middle in a way reminiscent of the three crosses--I like to call them topless crosses) at around 4 p.m. This is the largest owner-operated truckstop I've seen; it's not a TA, Flying J, Pilot, Loves, Little America, or Petro. As soon as we park, I turn on the CB, crank up the volume and tweak the squelch down 'til I hear the static on the other end.

"Has anyone seen my sister?" I ask, this time without the forced affectation of a grizzled man from The South. The static crackles back at me as a response. I ask the same question a couple of times more before shutting off the radio and getting out of the car. Once I have both shoulder bags wrapped around me, I turn the radio back on and inquire as to the whereabouts of my lost sibling yet again, this time to hear a clear voice answering on the other end.

"She's over behind the Circle K."

Having already circled around the TTT, I rejoin Alex and Julie. Alex is gathering B-Roll already, and I propose to walk over behind the Circle K with Julie to see who's over there. We walk through the staggered alleys created by the parked rigs--five full rows all the way to the gas station--and emerge to see two folks sitting on a concrete slab. One of them is clearly a trucker to me, with his camouflage cap, aloof demeanor, and light beer. The other was an older woman who was rocking back and forth and staring into the distance.

"You mind if we pop a squat?" I ask, the man shaking his head. We both sit down and exchange names and the short stories of our lives. It becomes apparent that the man is, in fact, a trucker and the woman is actually blind. We soon start handing out cigarettes and drinking beer with them--the trucker being all-too-excited to hand out free beers, probably just to have the company.

Julie and I move over to sit next to Sunshine, having already introduced ourselves, and begin to chat her up. I tell her that I used to be a hitchhiker, and she tells me that she lost her eyesight in a car accident, but that she used to be a working girl, and that even after having lost her eyesight, she has been hitchhiking with truckers all over the country.

"They just come up to me and say, 'Sunshine, come to California with me,' and I say, 'Hell yea!' I leave with just a couple of pairs of clothes in my backpack," she says, patting the small daypack beside her, "They pay for everything, and buy me new clothes. I come back months later with three thousand dollars in my pocket," she says, leaning in my direction excitedly.

My phone starts to ring as she's telling me her war-stories, and it's Alex. He says he's got a woman who works at the truckstop barbershop on the other side of the lot, and that she wants to do an interview. I ask Julie if she's alright keeping Sunshine company, and wrap the bags over my shoulders and retrace my steps through the shifting allies back to the diesel pumps.

After recording an upbeat and strangely hilarious interview, we worked our way back to the Circle K.

~

The night went on with hours of talking about squatters' rights, life on the streets and in the desert, and lots of cigarettes and beer (good thing we got a whole carton in North Carolina). I stayed with Sunshine for most of the night, while Alex and Julie periodically went out to talk to other girls and truckers. At one point, there were as many as a dozen people kickin' it. Each one of them appeared to have their own hustle going on, and they would periodically disappear for a bit to get high. It got to a point where the general welcoming mood and communal familiarity that had framed the sunset was now overshadowed by occasional plucks of discord and disconnect. I was reminded last night of why, when I returned to college years ago, I decided to be sober; I had long ago turned away from it all to return to society, and now I am immersing myself in it yet again. When I look back on my life, and where I am now, I am quite surprised to find myself doing the work that I am doing. I am still a bit floored by what happened last night, and very tired as well. I woke up at 7:30 this morning, and just had to write something. Perhaps, given time, I will find myself with more articulate thoughts on the matter.

Peace and Love,
Dan