In the morning I said my thanks and goodbyes to my new friends then Jeremy gave me a ride down to the bus station. I expressed my sincere gratitude to him for his help in making my journey possible and with that said goodbye and headed in. Back in that time getting a Greyhound ticket was as easy as buying a loaf of bread, no I.D. required, they didn’t even ask my name just pay the money and get a ticket. I bought a ticket to Denver as it was a lot cheaper than one to the mountains and one of my friends out there had some business in Denver anyway so it worked out well. The bus ride was long and boring and filled with all kinds off characters but I was only interested in reading and sleeping. I developed a technique to make sure that I kept two seats all to myself. Whenever we would pull into a new station, I would stretch out across both seats. put my Walkman on and pretend I was sleeping. No one ever bothered me, I had two seats the whole way and there was once when the seat next to me was the only seat open on the bus.
The bus pulled into Denver the next morning and my friend John was waiting there for me, a sight for sore eyes indeed. We put what was now all my worldly belongings ( a backpack and a duffel bag ) into his car and headed towards the mountains. As we drove through Denver I noticed a very high police presence that made me a bit nervous. I asked John if this was a regular thing here in Denver? He said no, that it was usually very calm as far as police presence went but that this was a special situation, the Timothy McVeigh trial was going on and they were prepared for anything. We stayed clear of the major concentration of cops that were down at the courthouse and eventually we were headed up into the mountains.
My friends, John and Dan, lived in Summit County, right near the shore of lake Dillon. They had a 3 bedroom townhouse that was very nice, the only problem was they had a third room-mate. His name was Tony and he was not too happy about me being there, he was a fireman and thought that his job was in jeopardy if they found me living there. After some convincing that nobody would find me there and that even if they did he could claim ignorance, he reluctantly agreed. Since all the bedrooms were taken, I would be sleeping on the couch, no problem for me but a serious cramp for the rest of them. They told me I could stay as long as it took to find a more permanent solution, but that this could not be it. that would work for me as all I needed was some time to find some work and then maybe a place.
Before I was to meet anyone else in this community, I was going to change my appearance, mainly my hair. I had hair almost down to my waist and it had been that way ever since I could remember, everyone back home knew me as the long hair, I was identified more with my hair than any other feature, so it had to go. I wanted to do it right away so nobody I met there would know me any other way, and therefore not stare at my hair. It worked perfectly as that night when I started meeting new people, they just looked me in the eye and said hello. We went out to a local pool hall that had a tournament going on, Dan and I were both avid pool players so we decided to give it a try. Dan took third and I ended up winning the whole thing, I shot very well and was inspired to make playing in tourney’s a part of how I could generate income. A decision that would greatly benefit me in the times to come. We finished the night by bar-hopping our way back to their place, a quality first day in the mountains.
I decided that I was going to use this opportunity to get back into shape, my friend John had an extra mountain bike for me to use and I joined the local gym for some additional fitness. I was going at it full speed, bike-riding and working out all day and then going out and partying to late. That was working fairly well for the first couple of weeks but then one night while out playing pool I met the local cocaine distributor, we both had a passion for pool and we hit it off straight away. He said that him and his room-mates were having a party and that I should come on over. I was hesitant at first but when he said they had an 8-foot Brunswick table in the living room, I was sold and off we went. The party was great for the first 3 days but when the fourth rolled around and the drugs finally started to run out, the reality of how far I had slipped from my fitness program hit me hard and I finally made it back to the house. I slept for two days and got back into the fitness program.
A couple of weeks went by and I was doing great with working out, I was even climbing the two-mile hill ( with the bike ) everyday. John had even gotten me some work with a friend of his that had a concrete business. Pouring concrete is shit work and even worse when you have to do it on a hill, but that’s the job in the mountains and I did it. Dan was also working with me so the day went by fairly smooth. One day after work, we decided to go out to shoot some pool and drink some beers, come to think of it, we did that most days, but what made this day different was that we ran into the coke guy playing pool. They were having another big party and we were both invited. At first we said no, we have to work tomorrow, but after a few more drinks and some enticement from the coke guy, we gave in. We told ourselves that we would only go over for a couple of hours and be back in time for work. Well that plan was doomed from the start as we ended up doing another four-day party and obviously lost the job. I can’t say the parties weren’t fun because they were a blast, but I knew they were no good for my health and if I was going to make this thing work, then I would most definitely have to stay healthy.
Finding work was a difficult thing in the mountains in summer. Very few people hiring and mostly to people they know. I met a few people who had gotten gigs house-sitting the mountain mansions, one even got paid to do it. What a sweet way to make money, unfortunately for me, no such offers came my way. I was running out of money fast and was uncertain what I was going to do. I was thinking of things I had back home and like a lightbulb in my head, I remembered that I had left $500 in a shirt pocket back home. I called my brother to check through my clothes to see if it was still there, Imagine my joy when he said it was and I kinda smirked thinking about all the things the keystone cops missed when they raided my house. I had my brother send it out to John and thanked him for his help, I had some money for now but it was becoming increasingly clear that Summit County was not gonna be for me.
My friends were very big into disc golf and I became addicted to it virtually overnight, we played several days a week at many different courses, it was awesome. Walking around a course, smoking ganja and throwing a frisbee, what more could a stoner ask for? Just when I thought it could not get any better, one of the crew I had met playing disc golf, said he had an extra ticket to Ozz-Fest down in Denver and that I could have it for free. Wow, what a cool gesture, of course I would go and have a great time, a whole day of good music topped off with Black Sabbath, so far, life on the run was treating me very kind.
When the 4th of July rolled around, there was a big party going on over in the next town and everyone was going. My room-mates had a full car and I was able to get a ride with some new friends I had met at the coke parties. I had a bad of weed and a bag of magic mushrooms for the day, after all, they were having a fireworks display at night and I wanted the perfect mindset. We were about halfway to the party when the driver says there is a cop behind us. I certainly did not want to hear that but for now he was just following us, I slowly pulled the drugs from my pocket and slipped them down my pants. Good timing as just then the driver said “shit, he’s pulling us over”! My heart starting pounding, I tried to stay as calm as I could, the guys in the car did not know my situation and I did not want to act too paranoid. As we pulled off the road and waited for the cop to come over, my thoughts were consumed by how ironic it would be to get arrested on Independence day.
A Continuing Story About Life On The Run