I Am Lucius van Dyke III

We entered the Cincinnati city limits with a line of State Troopers on our tail and a helicopter overhead. Noel was still asleep in the back, oblivious to the excitement surrounding her. I didn’t wake her. She needed the rest.

“What the fuck are you doing?” I hissed at Steve.
“Back off, man. Back off.”
“Fuck that. Pull over. Let us out of here.”

Steve reached down between his seat and the driver’s side door, pulling out a gun and aiming it my direction. Read the rest of this entry »

My former girlfriend, Noel, and I hitchhiked our way across the USA from my old hometown, Youngstown, about eleven years ago. Youngstown was, and is, a rusty old hulk of a city lost somewhere between Cleveland and Pittsburgh. A steel town that was kicked to the ground during the Carter administration, had its guts ripped out during the Reagan years, and its brains kicked in during “Daddy” Bush’s reign.

On a Saturday night in June Noel and I finished our drinks at Cedars (now yuppified–it used the kind of place “normal” people were scared to go. I’ve since seen newscaster Bob Black in there bopping along to an Oldies band) and hiked out along the 680 to Interstate 80 for points west. We got our first ride from a guy named Steve just outside of Ravenna. Read the rest of this entry »