Bargain
I felt refreshed after a fantastic time in Whistler and was planning a trip to Vancouver Island, which I’d heard so much about. I was walking down Granville Street in downtown Vancouver when I smelt the familiar smell of marijuana, not unusual anywhere on the west coast, I’d gotten used to it by now. Unlike other times though, when it would come and go as someone walked passed smoking a joint, which no one seems to worry about, this time it got stronger. I followed the aroma, people were setting up stalls, tents, marquees all around the Art Gallery and there were a couple of stages. On one stage there was a bunch of young lads murdering dark side of the moon, on the other, Funk Vigilantes, a decent protest band, who I stood and watched for a while. There was weed for sale everywhere, pipes, bongs, hookers, joints, grams, ounces, black hash, green hash, you name it, it was here and all under the watchful eye of a hand full of police. Happy Four Twenty was the cry, the street dwellers weren’t asking for money for food today, it was spare some change for a bit of weed sir? Apparently 4/20 is the code the police use when going to do a bust and once a year on the 20th of April at 20 past 4 in the afternoon, everyone lights up a joint and the air is filled with marijuana smoke. If you are within a block of the art gallery today you are stoned! It was like stepping back in time to the sixties and guess what, I was walking around with a huge grin all day, a different grin from the 8000ft high grin. It took me three days to find the exit but I eventually got to Vancouver Island. The ferry takes you through many small Islands between Vancouver and Vancouver Island; the waters are calm and protected and I dreamed of sailing around here for a summer living on a boat. I didn’t stay long on the Island, it was raining and I was thinking I need to get down to Seattle and go hunting for the bike, enough time though to confirm what I had heard, a place that would be pleasant to live in.
One more Greyhound and I’m in Seattle again, back to Chinatown in familiar territory, I was right on the transit route which runs under the city. An incredible system of tunnels that the buses and trains use without collision, I would be using this a lot as I wonder around the suburbs and surrounding cities trying to find the Harley that is going to work for me. First stop, Downtown Harley Davidson which isn’t downtown at all and it takes me two buses, lots of walking and half a day to get to. They had a dyna lowrider in there that I wanted to look at and lots more to choose from, I looked at sportsters, the smallest and cheapest of the Harleys and decided that wasn’t gonna work, then there were the heavier models, the softtails, and the road kings but I kept coming back to the dyna’s. The one they had was ok but looked a bit uncared for and far too much money, I was a bit more informed now and started looking at the dyna range on EBay and Craig’s list.
At the end of the block I was staying at, on the corner of 5th Ave S and King St S was Joes Bar. Joes Bar is the kind of place, when you walk in the door, every instinct tells you to turn around and walk back out, I kept going and sat at the bar, along with crack heads, dope heads, speed freaks, pan handlers, working men, working women, blacks, whites, yellows, pinks and browns to name a few. I ordered a beer, “Hey what’s happenin man, Eds my name” a wiry black guy with the gift to win you over, which he did, by the end of the night Ed and I were the best of friends and it only cost me a couple of beers. They wouldn’t let him drink anymore! They knew him better than I did.
I am….THE LONESOME TRAVELLER….travelling east….BE HAPPY!