Homage: Dear Dudebro...
Well, I finally traded in the keys to my puke-green 1984 VW Westfalia for a gas-effi cient Civic. And yes, it felt like I was losing a part of my soul. That van had been my transportation, my bedroom, my kitchen, my living room, and even my bathroom at times. Her name was Sheila, and she was my best friend. You told me Id regret the trade, of course. Giving up on the life, you so delicately called it. I know you disapprove of my desk job, too. I guess I did kinda sell out, but I gotta tell you, there are plenty of things I dont miss about the road life. For one, my bacon-and-eggs breakfast is way better than that old morning regimen of cold, gloopy oatmeal and Tang that I used to eat
and you used to eat too, whenever I had extra. Another thing I dont totally miss about the road life is your daily appearance at my camp abode in the morning just as I was making the nice coffee I paid for and you loved. Also, I wonder how you got wind of my new apartment so quickly? Not an hour after I signed the lease, you hit me up for a place to crash. You must have started borrowing someone elses computer to learn of my new home since mine is no longer available for you to constantly borrow. By the way, that porn you were checking out came with a surprise: a virus that wiped my whole hard drive. Thanks, brah.
Its really great that youre always pumped
to be stoked. It really makes me feel good as
a contributing member of society when you
constantly remind me of my weekend warrior status.
That nirvana you attained through the pseudo-religion
you cobbled together between bong rips and cases of
cheap beer sounds pretty great. Its impressive that you
achieved enlightenment while couch surfing, dumpster
diving, and climbing every day. Remember your
long-winded tirades against corporate America? Im
pretty sure that corporate America was the original
source of that trust fund youve been living off for the
past six years. You know, its funny I was just thinking
about how that sleeping bag of yours, which was a near
permanent fixture on my living room floor, was a top
moneymaker for the corporation that had it manufactured
in Asia.
Speaking of money, this is just a reminder that
those IOUs you left in my pantry are starting to yellow.
Maybe you can write me a fresh one. Im not saying
that Clif Bar you shared with me at the crag last month
wasnt totally clutch, but it still just doesnt feel like
were square. Sorry if that harshes your mellow
You
did mention something about my regular paycheck and
how you would never put your money in the pockets
of big chain grocery stores. Instead, by eating my bread
and milk (from the big chain grocery store) you were
able to save up and hand over your hard-earned ducats
to big airlines. How was your trip to Fontainebleau,
anyway?
This all probably sounds like griping thinly veiled in sarcasm. Dont get me wrong; I do envy your carefree dirtbagging
lifestyle. Most hard-core climbers at one point in their lives embark
on an epic journey based around climbing sweet lines and living the
life. Its just that most peoples road trips end after a few months, or
maybe a year. After six years, however
well, lets just say its truly
impressive that youve been able to find so many decent, hardworking
people to support your endless summer. I guess its cause youre
pretty charming and a great climbing buddy. Your Beta was unbeatable,
and you always gave me that extra push to go one bolt higher.
Your looks help too, but I dont quite understand how youre pulling
so much tail you had to get an app for that, (especially since you
dont own a phone). I mean, I know that dirtbagging is just that: living
out of your car and being dirty and smelly, but its funny that the
one room in my house Ive never actually seen you go in also happens
to contain the shower.
Anyway I just wanted to write and tell you Im raising a Schlitz
to you (since you drank all my good beer last time you were here
and didnt replace it). Youre my anti-hero. You annoy park rangers
and land managers, offend families camping with their children,
and are generally embarrassing to be with in public. But I still kinda
get it. The rock is your calling. All that responsibility, worry, and
work is for suckers. Sometimes I even agree with you. And you know
what? Youre still always welcome at my place.
Signed,
Julie
P.S. Its been a while since Ive seen you, so to be safe, Im sending
this to Rifle, Hueco Rock Ranch, Miguels Pizza, and Camp 4 I know
youll pass through at least one of those places soon.