Day 14 Final Day

Well, I’m heading down the road on the last day of this epic journey. The sun is shining, there’s virtually no wind, the endless horizon stretches before me calling me homeward with the promise of a night in my own bed, a hot home-cooked meal and a little time to rest and contemplate my life before the next great adventure beckons. The Bokeh Maru is purring along the roadway with the lithe gracefulness of a cheetah with a fleeing Tommy in her sights, her pistons the size of 5 gallon buckets, each pulling in a quart of fuel per cylinder with each rhythmic stroke, a gentle but guttural roar emitting from her exhaust system telling me not to worry she’ll get me home, even if it takes every last dollar left in The Institutes fuel budget this year.

My thoughts are turned to the various experiences and incredible sights I have witnessed on this trip. And if pressed I would have to say that the experience of viewing and being amongst the wild horses of McCullough peaks in the Wyoming wilderness was absolutely the most incredible memory I have. The image above of the stallion surveying his territory sums up everything I think about the West, its wildness, animals, nature, and most of all, its freedom. If you had to come back as something in another life I think being him would not be a bad choice.

As I point the Bokeh Maru southward towards home the circumstances couldn’t be more different this day, from the day we started this journey. We had embarked with an international crew of 31 souls, all with a desire to go forth and see just what this world had to offer. All of them eager for adventure and the lure of the open road. As Director of The Institute and Captain and Commander of this new vessel, The Bokeh Maru, I was probably the most excited of all.

We had Sherpa’s from Nepal and Tibet to scale the highest peaks and tell us what they saw, a crew of sailors led by my head of Security, Big Lemon Kowalski that had been lent to me my Far East Affiliate, Batchu Sen, owner and CEO of South Seas Acquisitions, a firm that specializes in obtaining goods from various sources in the South China Sea at very reasonable prices. We had our Ethno-Botno-Archaeologist, a young woman who wouldn’t provide her name for most of the journey as she felt that someone knowing her name would not grant her the respect she felt she deserved as a ranking member of our party. She became known as ExcuseMeMs for lack of anything else to call her. Later in the voyage when she became romantically involved with Big Lemon Kowalski and her entire personality changed, we learned that her name was Candace Flavours an exotic dancer from Detroit.

Then there were all the rest, bearers, packers, signalmen, E.M.T.’s spending their two-week vacation to help with any medical emergencies that might arise. Our meteorological crew to map out our weather, linguists for those times when communications might be a problem, fry cooks, sous chefs, farmers, hunter-gatherers, animal trainers, mechanics in case of trouble along the road, the list goes on and on. Sadly they’re all gone now, victims of the vagaries and circumstances that occurred along the way, scattered along the roadside like human litter. Many with No Deposit, No Return, stamped on their lives and little hope of redemption. But that’s the way it is in the big city. Too bad, too sad for them.

The two I miss the most though and the two that seemed least likely to connect are the ones I wonder most about. That is of course Candy Flavours and Big Lemon Kowalski. After the night they went missing in Livingston, Montana when they entered that strange building and never came out again I can still see that other-worldly look on Candy’s face, her eyes glowing bright red like two cigar ends on a stormy windy night as she literally dragged Big Lemon through the doorway. I had attributed that to lust but now I think differently. The look of apprehension on Big Lemons face, a man who was unafraid of anything natural on this earth is still burned into my memory. I’ve had a lot of time to think about that as I have driven these lonesome highways and I am beginning to believe Candy may not have been an exotic dancer from Detroit after all. She wouldn’t give us her name because she didn’t have one, not one you could pronounce with a human tongue anyway. The Institute is always wary of stating there has been interaction or interference from an extra-terrestrial source before we have undeniable proof, lest it damage our reputation amongst serious scientific types, but it is beginning to be pretty clear that agents from another Galaxy have been up to their usual tricks and Candy may have been involved in it up to her pretty little false eyelashes. I should have been more suspicious, who wears four sets of false eyelashes anyway.

But that is all blood under the bridge as they say and I’ll mark that down in my journal as something to think about tomorrow. Today is what’s on the menu now and I’ve got a job to do. Since the loss of my crew I have had the daunting task of piloting and maintaining the Bokeh Maru alone. It has been a grueling job but what it has shown me is, I can do this on my own. Sure its hard. Sure its difficult. Sure its dangerous. Sure its … well you get the idea. Next time I’m not taking a crew of 31 or even six. I’m going alone, like Stanley and separately Livingston, or those two guys who went to the North pole, without each other and froze their Fuon-buey-bueys off, just me against the road, against the danger, against the world. I can’t wait.

That’s it. Journey’s over. The Bokeh Maru has earned her place as a valuable member of the Institute’s fleet of vessels and will be our choice to carry us on to new and better things. Watch for further adventures as The Institute goes back on the road again sometime in the future.