New Jerseys
As you may know, I used to travel all the time. Europe, B.C., Vermont, India—every week, somewhere new. That's not me anymore—different job/different life. But! I love when people travel to me.
This past week, some guys from New Jersey came through town, and I let them stay in my basement. I'd never met these people—friends of friends, you see, but they pulled up in a killer old Buick and we were all immediately buds.
Like any consummate host, I showed ’em all the spots. We skated, hiked, wandered. We ate. We drank. We made a backyard fire. They did all the dishes and gave Lefty more attention than he's ever known. They also, while I was at work on 4//20, made this funny little feature film on location in my yard.
As a rule, I love East Coasters. Salt of the earth, funny, hard boiled. I also love the rite of the traveler—how you can meet new people and feel like you already know them, bond over a couple days or a car ride, be instantly old friends. If you've never left your town or your life, if you've never stayed on someone's couch or let them stay on yours, well then that's one of the best things you're missing.
Lefty's new squad. Thick as thieves.
Showed ’em some Oregon magic.
Hung around the fire pit while a sliver of the moon hung in the Western sky.
They really know their way to a girl's heart.
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