The Day the Angels Stopped by the OYB Place
by JP
Most of the time OYB doesn’t seem to be worth it. But every now and then I get a big payoff for all my awkward suffering.
Two Scooter Guys just stopped by the yard while I was typing away at real work. Gung-ho retirees looking for the Source of OYB and back issues. Norm and Otto, retired teacher and cop. They travel over the whole country on matching red-flake 250 cc Honda Scooters. They camp light, ask for barn space and access to a faucet. Norm walked from Michigan to Florida last year. Said there were nothing but nice people the whole way. Southern hillbillies and rednecks? Sure. He was hiking along and a guy stopped and held out a Coke and bag of Doritos then took off without saying a word. Guy stopped and handed him two covered plates of dinner and desert on Thanksgiving. People tried to give him money. Norm and Otto said their scooters were slow, just the way they liked them. Sit and ride em easychair style. Said they’d been camping light together for 40 years now. “Now, you’re younger, but we feel we have some things in common.”
Obviously, these two were angels of some sort. Otto and Norm. Emissaries trying to tell me something important. People don’t come out onto their porch in the blinking summer heat and see two old smiling guys on red scooters. Ghosts of OYB Future. Were they the guardian angels of OYB…which I’ve been trying to kill…sent to reinspire me?
They talked about doing your own thing, plant marihoochie if you want to, nobody will bug ya if yer basically good people. (Funny, I’d just finished planting ours.) “I can walk to Florida and no one will stop me.” “People talk bad about the government nowadays. About not having any ID or driver’s license, about not paying any taxes and keeping on the move. Heck, they work three times as hard to pull that off instead of just hoeing a few acres, eating their own beans, doing as they please and sending in $100 in taxes if they’re living light. Save the anger for what’s worth it.” Maybe they’d contribute something someday to OYB. Paid for the back issues and took off. That’s the trouble: these nifty mirages come and go and no one ever sends in anything. Well and good. It’s obviously the best way. I’m sure people feel connected to their farflung oddball kindred spirits…and don’t need to write nothing to improve things. If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it. Just live. So they won’t write it. I will. I suppose the more I do so, the more funny things will keep happening. Or maybe not. Maybe a magazine just holds one back. I spose it’s all in the attitude. Maybe I need a little Scooter Attitude.
