People from seven skoolies and one tent gathered around a fire tonight at a homestead community, beneath the Gemini moon that was 44% full and a host of stars. To see us elsewhere – like this afternoon at the pizza place and the bowling alley –  you’d never figure out what bonds us all. A tall Jesus lookalike in a plaid flannel shirt, a woman with toenails that matched her flipflops, mothers with children, a corporate-looking dude, an empath, an apprentice and this old woman with purple hair. All from different backgrounds and on different places along the path of life, but all passionate about living on the road in a school bus converted into a home.
I passed around my box of broken tarot decks, oracle cards and pagan art cards, letting people pick one or two or three, and enjoying how dead on many of them were. The woman who twice drew the six of cups. Her husband who was only pulled oracle cards. Tomorrow I’ll do some readings and give a mini course in using the pendulum. 
Tomorrow the plan is to install solar panels on my roof. And hopefully, a new fixture in the shower. Yesterday I got a door lock, an air conditioner exhaust mount and a diesel heater. There will be no time on my way back to Connecticut to get the rear differential worked on with the intent of increasing speed. I’m already two days behind when I wanted to start my 1,300-mile drive. My hope is to boondock just about the entire way. No zig zagging to find campgrounds with high prices or hosts with electrical hook ups. Or so goes my plan. I can’t even guess what the gods have in mind.