Joy Riding

For the past month I have been trying to secure my feet back on American soil again. With all the changes – new apartment, new job, new roommates, new state – I have kept myself busy. I was so focus on working weddings and picking up shifts that I nearly forgot the fact that only a month ago I was eating crepes in France.

Last Sunday I found myself driving along Dalton Pike to pick up something for my sister. It was a beautiful day and I soon felt like traveling again. I turned up Matchbox 20, rolled down the windows, and put on my aviators. Summer was here and it was time to enjoy it. I didn’t bother glancing at my speedometer and just let my hand comb the wind out the window.

All along this windy road I passed antique junkyards and stoic red barns. Endless lines of wooden fences followed the road and carved out the horse pastures and wheat fields. Huge dried hay barrels contrasted against the green landscape. Every once in a while I passed a single tree left standing by the road, but mostly the forest were kept to the rolling Appalachian mountains in the distance.

If you ever drive down Dalton Pike, you will notice the quirky and random things left along the side of the road. Once I passed an abandoned school bus with a “For Sale” sign in the window. Whoever owned it turned it into a mobile home equipped with an AC unit and small kitchen. They parked and left it, even their dirty laundry and salt and pepper in the window. Normally I would be wondering if there was a market for converted school buses in the Tennessee area. On second thought, I think there is.

Along APD 40, towards the Ocoee River is a school bus, parked just off the road with the words, “Ms. B’s Purple Bus” painted along the side. The faded purple bus with wooden stairs to the door is hard to miss. Inside, this automobile is transformed into a well stocked bead shop. Instead of seats, there are bins of assorted beads and all along the windows are strings of glass and shell necklaces. At the other end near the driver’s seat sits Ms. B herself next to the cash register.

Inside can get a little crowded, if more then one person is in the bus, as you might imagine. However, if you feel like creating some Hippie jewelry, this is the place to go. It may not have the

overwhelming plenty of Asheville’s bead shops, but it’s in a purple bus. For me, that makes all the difference.

In the past, my summers were spent in Florida. I was used to the broad beaches and mind-melting heat. I miss the daily thunderstorms that turned the streets and pavements into a sauna. Now living in Cleveland, I miss Florida’s open space. I feel the urge to get out and drive through the countryside. There is nothing quite like driving on back roads, away from city lights, with the specific purpose of getting lost just to figure out how to get back.

Now driving past grazing horses with nothing but blue skies above, I breathed in the freedom. It’s time to open the windows and see the world through my tinted sunglasses.