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Show RIVER "How about that," I said. The folks in Kalamazoo would be disappointed to hear that. "Yeah," said the salesman. "Pretty soon everything is going to be made in Japan." Despite the salesman, I liked the guitar. It was flashy and didn't play or sound too bad, either. We haggled over the price. The salesman was itching to part this particular fool from his money, and he gave me some advice that hit me where I live. "Listen," he said. "Whaf s the good of having money in this life if you can't buy the things you want?" This piece of wisdom pushed me over the edge. We settled on a price of eighty dollars with a set of strings and a case thrown in. When I got back on the street I was as happy as a pig in clover. I had a guitar! Maybe you can't buy happiness, but you can buy guitars. I made arrangements to leave the boat at the marina for a few days and Thor and me walked out to the freeway and started hitchhiking to the Smokey Mountains. I had several vague reasons for doing this, but mostly I wanted to see some familiar faces before I disappeared down the river, and though I wouldn't but half admit it to myself, I wanted to see Rosie again. She'd sworn to shoot me dead with her pearl-handled .22 caliber Saturday Night Special if she saw me again, but that didn't stop me. On the river my thoughts were always turning to her. I did not expect to sweep her off her feet and charm her back to the river, I did want to talk to her again. But nothing much happened. I spent some days hitching across Tennessee and one day in Madison County with Richard and Ann. They assured me that Rosie didn't want to see me, and I gave up and accepted that we were finished. -190- |