Summing Up With Jackie Gleason

Toward the end of the book (Day 38), we were grateful to have the guy who looked like Jackie Gleason pick us up. It was a strategic pickup; not only regarding geography, but his conversation was on point.  He treated us with dignity, as equals.  He gave us respect and plenty of talk time to air out our minds.  He looked at our souls and not our dirty outward appearance.  He was a building contractor and amateur philosopher who said, “When you know the road, I guess you know almost everything a person needs to know.” Since we were nearing the end, relatively speaking (Omaha, Nebraska—but only one ride away from the ride that would get us to New Jersey), it gave us the chance to analyze all the changes we had gone through, to verbalize how much we had crammed into our travels, and to wax on about the knowledge it instilled into us. It’s one of my favorite parts of the book. It almost approaches “wisdom.” It sums up what I’d been wanting to say all book, that I was grateful for having the chance to take a venture of this magnitude. “What is hitchhiking in one sentence?” he asked each of us.  I answered, “It’s putting your life on a public thoroughfare and advancing your position through direct eye contact.” Otto answered, “It’s travelin’ on somebody else’s trust.” Every moment of that ride was filled with conversation like that.

The Accolades From Francis & Others

It sure was good hearing big-time accolades from people as we trekked across the country.  Most of these were actual utterances.  On Day 2, Francis (the guy who let us sleep in his backyard) hears us describe our previous hitchhiking trips, together and separately, and concludes, “Now you’re out on national tour.  That’s great.  Welcome.  You guys are heroes.” In California, there was Uncle Ralph. He listens to stories about delivering Starla’s baby and eluding the cowboys in Nevada, and says, “For either that or the baby alone, you guys should be on the cover of Life magazine . . . New Jersey to California—by thumb.  We got a couple of celebrities in the house, Betty.  We’d better treat these guys good.” In Southern California, the voice imitator, Jim Sills, who brings Roger to the backlots of Hollywood says (p. 265), “Most guys I pick up aren’t seeking the yin and the yang, like you. But you earned your way out here on your thumb, so you deserve to see this place.” In the laundromat, Joe Namath (or in real life, the guy who looked like Joe Namath), was anxious to shake my hand and said, “Gee, I always wanted to do that. It takes guts to come out here on your thumb.” The only thing I made up was in Utah on p. 85, when the female state trooper says to Roger after he delivers the baby, “The state of Utah is proud of you.  You guys are an inspiration to us mortals, both of you.”

Otto's Wedding Vows

The part where Otto professes his Christianity at the Bible study in Salt Lake City on Day 9 never happened.  Otto in real life was much too shy and introverted (and secure in himself) to stand up and make such a public proclamation, even if that’s what was moving him and were his true feelings.  He and I both sat there on the floor silently as the evalngelist was pleading for someone to come forward and be saved . . . not for me, because I had that signed profession of faith which I scribed a few months earlier and was home in my dresser drawer (that’s true). But this section needed a step-up, so I added in Otto coming forward "in humility"—one of the first things in the manuscript that I embellished. I wanted readers to know exactly what a typical Christian Bible study is like.  I didn’t want this section to be boring to those outside the faith, so that’s why I added the South Korean speaker communicating in broken English. For the pronouncement part at the end, I wanted to spice it up with a little humor, so in my mind, at least, the narrative is supposed to sound like wedding vows.  Otto repeats over and over, “I do,” with slight hesitation and trepidation, knowing this pronouncement is supposed to be good “forever.”

More Shreds About My Father's Willingness

My blog entry from the other day prompted my younger brother, Welles (known as ‘Willis’ in the book), to add more key components in figuring out, “Why did my father let his son hitchhike across America and back when I was still in high school?”  Welles writes, “By the time he was 19, Dad was a soldier, preparing to ship out to war. By age 20, he was overseas in uniform, in the line of enemy fire, giving his life to defend the Allied cause in World War II. If Dad was serving by 19, he figured by 17 you were ready to step into the adult world. He also said to me once that, given his tense relationship with you, he figured allowing you to get away for a summer would help improve relations, by giving you something to do and helping you to grow up. I also go back to Dad the boy scout. He learned a lot of self-sufficiency in the Scouts and figured you could benefit in similar ways on the road.” Thanks, Welles, for helping me to consider this aspect.  I’m grateful to finally getting insight to this puzzling question, which up until now has never been discussed or answered within my family.

Roger's Instant Poetry

As you surmise, I’ve thrown everything possible into this story. That includes taking a stab at poetry. It’s well hidden, but nevertheless it’s present. I guess it’s an attempt to show that Roger wants to be a creative dude. On the way out, he hears Otto recite a few simple things, like “Free is me,” and “It don’t mean a thing / If it ain’t got that swing” (apologies to Duke Ellington). Starting in San Francisco, Roger has a go at it as well. He blurts out, “Virgin mirth, glorious youth, sweet as nectar,” almost out of nowhere, to which Otto replies, “My pack’s too heavy to listen, Roger.” He also toys with what he calls “remixed Shakespeare.” On Day 14, after Otto jokingly calls Roger “a bleary-eyed bastard,” Roger comes back with, “You spleeny, dizzy-eyed wagtail.” That was gotten from a joke sheet that made the rounds a long time ago with fellow employees at Verizon, called “Make Up Your Own Shakespearian Insult,” which I’d been dying to use for years in a constructive way (thanks, Ed Rosado).  But does this impress Otto?  Hell no.  At the height of their argument in Southern California, Otto adds on the mustard and screams, “And your poetry sucks, Roger.” That doesn’t stop the phrases from coming out, however.  When the guys pull out of the Grand Canyon, Roger tells Otto, “I need sleep, sleep, sleep; deep, deep, deep; now, now, now.”  At the end of the book Otto tries one more time, “Sea to shining sea is me / Coast to coast / that’s the way it’s gotta be.”

My Father Answers, "Why Did I Let Him Go?"

Throughout the book it’s obvious Roger was a headstrong 17 year-old.  He probably would’ve defied orders by his parents to stop him from going on the trip. However, we never hear my father’s side of it. Ever since the book was published, my father, William E. Lobb, has been forced to open his mouth about several issues the book raises. “Why did I let my son take this trip?” is at the top of the list. For the first time ever, he answers, “My parents (Harrison and Sydna Lobb) always let me go to the Jersey shore for nights on end whenever I wanted. They were trusting when my brother, Jean, and I went down for a week-long trip when I was still in high school, I guess during spring break. We’d camp out in our sleeping bags, or in the car, living mostly in the sand dunes, just off the ocean. We had no money, but what fun. We disappeared for days. It was the greatest time of my life. My parents didn’t seem to mind. So when it came time for your trip, I decided it would be good for you.”

Dreams Projecting the Future

One of the things I’ve always believed is that dreams project the future.  I try to demonstrate that starting when the guys are in Nevada.  That's with Randy and his wife, the couple who eventually dump them in Elko for smelling so bad (or something like that).  During this ride, Roger falls asleep and has a dream about smearing a car’s windows with paint.  It’s an unusual vision . . . nothing that I’d ever witnessed in real life. Move forward 38 pages, though, to when the hippie solider from Fort Ord, the guy “looking for a way to go AWOL,” picks them up along the California coast. What kind of a car is he driving? A station wagon, "with all the windows painted black, except for the windshield." Exactly matching the dream. I guess that was his privacy statement. For purposes of the book, it shows how Roger’s dream from several days previous became reality. It projected the future. I don’t make a big deal out of it; I just put it out there and move forward. But it’s one of those things added for the sake of my own general life view.