Asphalt Asylum

I didn’t squander my youth on responsibility.
That thought came to me in the summer of 1978 as I leaned over a pool table in a subterranean pub while lining up a shot. Several months before that shot, I’d returned from hitchhiking seven-thousand-miles alone. Desperate to shed my constant anger, disdain, and self-loathing, I left on that trek hoping that somewhere I might find sense of peace. I had no idea what to expect, or even where I was going, but the journey changed me in ways I could never have imagined.
Hop in; let’s go for a ride.