The Gravy Recipe: One way to make traveling in the greatest, bestest, most freeest country on the face of the planet an unforgettable experience.

August 16, 2009. The day before my first day on the road. I'm in Boulder, Colorado. Pumped, excited, bursting at the seams, and yes a little nervous, but not about to back out now. I've committed to more than a month of total self-reliance on a journey that will take me nearly 3000 miles with nothing but a pack and food money, traveling by thumb and sleeping in a tent, throughout America's West and through great and wonderous things: first slicing west through the spine of the rockies, up and over the colorado plateau via mormons in Utah and sand in Nevada, down the hill from Tahoe and into San Francisco or the land of gay liberals condemned to burn for eternity (in Utah I presume, no offense but seriously), back to Nevada for Burning Man, back to California and up the legendary route 1 along its golden fabled shores, steeping in the ancient heritage of our Old Growth Redwoods, and finally crashing into Portland (home sweet home). Phew.

At this point my hope was just that the trip would be pretty cool. But the odds were against it. This trip was poised to be an insane hitchhiking adventure, far from any pleasure cruise, and on a scale of 1 to great, this was either going to be FUCKING AWESOME or AWESOMELY FUCKED. Anything in between would be unlikely. That usually involves trains or planes or vitamins. No, I was either going to be at the top of a mountain riding a goat and eating fresh goat cheese and jerking off on other goats, or imprisoned in a demonic goat cave society and covered in goat shit while getting fucked by the leader goat. So although I was all ready to go, there was one thing left to figure out. How can I promote FUCKING AWESOME over AWESOMELY FUCKED? And to that end, how can I spread the gospel(of true freedom in America [freedom])?

Well a couple options right off the bat: 1) I could carry a hatchet and a sign that says 'serial killer.' That'd be ironic and therefore hilarious. 2) I could egg cars so that they have to stop and wipe the yolk from their windshield, then offer my help in exchange for a ride, and as they tear away from me in red-faced anger I would scream, "OH WELL! THE YOLK'S ON YOU!!" I probably spent about a half hour mulling over these various options before the AHA! hit me like a ton of fluffy bricks.

The answer? Stuffed animals, OF COURSE. And toys. Big, fluffy, colorful wackastuffs and toys. People LOVE that stuff. I'm talking of course about draping myself with ridiculous things and then generally doing ridiculous things like headstands and vaudeville routines while waiting for rides.



That also includes things like pinwheels, streamers, wigs, reflectors, light-up bouncy balls, hula necklaces, wacky wristbands, and anything shiny or retina-burningly colorful that could be worn on my pack or person.



And finally, flags! Perhaps the most essential piece of the puzzle - there must be flags! Because shit, this is America, and although we have differences, cultural barriers, and interpersonal barriers that MAY occasionally make for awkward silences on long car rides with strangers, I think we can all still agree on one thing. And that's America. Fuck Yeah. So come on now people. Give me a lift. I mean look at me for Christ Sake, I'm a walking work of patriotic and juvenile art. You can experience true freedom just by LOOKING at me.



So go ahead, satisfy your curiosity and your creativity and let your car come to a screeching stop. But don't do it for my sake, don't do it for god's sake, and don't even do it for google's sake. Do it for your country. Good night, God bless, and America loves you.