Bad Ol' Days 3

Mt. ranier was huge and bearing down on us as we boarded the van in the morning . It was hot and that made me feel sick and the ice blue on the peak of Mt Ranier reminded me of the booze I"d been drinking the night before which also made me feel sick. We were in the pink van headed east by southeast and northern soul blasted from the am radio.
In eastern Oregon there is nothing but flat land and scrubby brush that looks like blonde chest hair. I wrote my mom a letter and mailed it from a town called Hard Grounds.
"Dear Mom,
Hope you are not worrying about me too much. I am in the Pacific Northwest. I have seen the wonders of Gods Creation and they have placed peace and joy in my soul. If for the state of my soul you should fear remember that a man must walk through dark valleys at some point during his life. Did you believe that I would not become a man? We have played music throughout this nation and I think it is good and some people think we are funny and ugly and stupid but some people like us. Cole says that we will flourish some day and all these dark times will pass and our mothers will no longer fear for the state of our souls. As we bear our bodies and our equipment across the land I think of you and father and I know that I must bring you no peace, but I know I must bear on. As the peaks rise over the horizon and as the Phoenix rises from the flames so will the pink van rise in heavenly glory from its once lowly state.
With Love Your Son,
Jack
We continued our eastward course into Idaho and crossed the jagged platueas and mesas of that land and became sickened by the violent bobbing of the roadways. The bottom of the state, before passing into Utah, brought us gentle valleys and the need for a rest from our travels. We pulled the pink van into one of the gentle valleys for to make our camp. The pragmatic Joe Bradley sent me to gather logs as he stoked the kindling into flames. Jared tried to build a beaver trap in the nearby creek. Cole set out to get the lay of the land. As our fire reached a sustainable burn and the cheese within our frozen burritos began to sizzle Cole returned with some people he had met at a truck stop across the valley. Two lovely native squalls knelt down among us at our fire and we offered up to them our humble foodstuffs. In return they offered tidings of good weed and strong drink and as we reached intoxication the register of the girls voices descended and it became clear that fair maidens these were not. I don't know quite how nature took it's course but soon Jared and I found ourselves alone by the fire with Trani-tribes stash laid out before us. As we smoked an enormous fatty I fell back on my log and listened to the hooting owl and the ecstatic guttural moans of an Indian fag in mid coitus. I don't know if it was the voice of my God fearing mother or the Great Spirit of that valley but I received a vision. As I stared into the night sky and gazed upon the crescent moon the universe changed to negative, like the negative of a photograph. The black abyss turned blinding white and the stars and the moon turned inky black. The din of the valley rose as all the creatures cried out. The she-males screeched in horrific abandon. A deep peace like death passed over my soul.