Chewy Rocks On: Road Trip

[Archived from 2006]

Friday afternoon Im reading this East Coast guide that I found lying on my bookshelf and I read about this amusement park in Old Orchard Beach, Maine. Ive been feeling a little restless lately and Im sick of David trying to assassinate me, so I think maybe a road trip would be a good idea. I hijack the keys to Steves van and start driving.

I make it just up past New Hampshire before I get tired, and I pull off at a roadside motel. Its only $50 a night and clean, but sterile, and I lie in bed, trying to sleep, and get kind of lonely. I make a few phone calls to see if anyone will talk to me but theyre all out for the night.

I go to brush my teeth. I stare at my reflection in the mirror for awhile.

The next morning, I wake up. I grab a cup of coffee from the TGIFridays down the street.

I brush my teeth again. Same old face in the mirror.

The drive up the coast is prettier, and more scenic. When my legs get cramped I pull off at the side of the road and take a stroll down the beach.

I skip a few stones.

I watch them splash in the water.

This makes me feel more lonely.

I check out the local wildlife, but no ones talking. Escargot for dinner again, maybe.

About fifty miles up, the coast turns into woodlands, and I pull over again. This is more my element.

I used to climb in trees in Kashyyk.

There were more wookiees to talk to in Kashyyk.

I can feel the woodland speaking to me in a way. Remember back when I flew starships?

Careful Chewy, youre talking to yourself again.

I find a cabin up the creek and stop for a chat.

No ones inside.

It all gets too much for me and I think lifes not worth living, and hang myself with a necktie.

Just kidding, guys! I would never do that. I climb another tree instead.

I get back in the car again and finally pull off at Old Orchard Beach, which seems desolate, but I see the amusement park up the road. Theres a roller coaster, and a ferris wheel.

But all the machinery is put away! What the hell is this?

Fuck road trips.

Back down the coast, I end up at another roadside motel, and this one has a balcony.

Its beautiful here, but it would be so much more beautiful if there was someone to share it with.

So the long and short of it is I end up at some tavern, drink a few glasses of wine, stumble out into the street and stare at the rain coming down, and begin to spout poetry about the beauty and shortness of life, etc.