Today was a journey. One with jerking halts, near breakdowns and lots of deep breaths. I wanted it to be easier. Wanted to climb into this beautiful red pick up, turn my brain off and go. But instead there were gears to mind and a broken radio playing too soft music. It gave me great pause to laugh at myself and try to be a good sport about it all.
I learned to drive stick yesterday in about 20 minutes on an abandoned road near the Cleveland airport. My Grandmother reminding me again and again to take my foot of the gas when I shifted. Today I drove near 400 miles to the Michigan Womyn’s Music Festival. My body stiff with anticipation for both what I would find in those woods and the possibility of a fast breaking semi and the need to downshift. It has taken me years and many friends to get here. I thought of that each time I considered turning around.
After about 9 hours I made it to The Land. I pulled into a grassy parking spot, got out, registered, signed up for work shifts. Everyone seemed to be engrossed in their particular job. Clearly wanting to do it well. Whether that was directing traffic, loading cars, driving a tractor or cheering as you drove through the gates. A few took distinct pleasure in yelling “Festie Virgin” as I walked past. It made me smile, blush and cringe a little.
I’d arrived but the sun was setting and I still needed to set my tent up somewhere in the near 650 acres of woods. Panic was lingering. So I shifted my stuff from one pick up to another, took a deep breath and let a womyn drive me deeper into the woods.
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