Truckin' June 2011, Vol. 10, Issue 6: Happy 9 Years of Truckin!

Yeah, that’s right! The decade old online rag of world-weary travellers’ tales has just turned 9 years old, and I’m celebrating tonight in Oslo by drinking Red Stripe beer (a Jamaican brew). The site was created by , edited by (big shout-out!) and written by some 120 alcoholics with typewriters.

I have not published anything on Truckin’ since 2010. This is not a conscious decision but the result of working 100% at work and 100% at home with other matters. And the alcohol. And the fucking money. I promise change in this department, but more about that later. The internationally published author of Lost Vegas and Jack Tripper Stole My Dog, Tenzin McGrupp aka Pauly writes:

June is upon us, which means Truckin’ would make a great addition to your summer reading pile. So print up this issue and bring it with you to the beach, or the pool, or into the bathroom with you.

Before I go, I want to thank you, the reader, for supporting us every month since 2002. Nine years? Wow. The long-form written word is slowly dying off, but each of you keep the spirit burning alive with your unwavering support for Truckin’.


Cusco to Ollantaytambo to Augas Calientes by
People were streaming in all directions from all areas. A group of Peruvian guides, all short men around 5 feet in height with reddish brown skin in alpaca hats, had disembarked from what looked like a cattle car and two Peruvian rail workers at the train’s doors hurled backpacks into a pile on the platform, where the guides hovered to retrieve their gear. Meanwhile, hundreds of tourists were getting off the train, while hundreds more were scrambling to catch the train before the doors closed. The train from Ollantaytambo to Machu Picchu ran on the same singular track. A couple of times a day it transported tourists and supplies back and forth, back and forth…

The Chosen by
But it’s still annoying. I’ll grant that visiting a box that hasn’t been touched in 25 years might raise an eyebrow or two, but I’m still blaming the attention of the lummox in the off-the-rack suit on my unwanted companion’s unabashed card-counting. Either way, the brutes in suits might have had a few questions for me that I wasn’t fully prepared to answer at exactly that moment, so I looked at my old pal Lucky….

Isn’t It Good? by Kent Coloma
I once asked my mother if I could change my name to Jesus. I used to quiz my friends and they all wanted to change their name at one point in their youth. I have a stage name now. It’s not Jesus. The usual Hollywood pseudonym. My friends and I used to intentionally mispronounce “pseudo” like “suede-oh” for our own amusement…

Zen and the Art of the Frijol by George Tate
Being able to focus and enjoy the simplicity of everyday things is the joy of living. You’re asking yourself where this bullshit is headed. I believe there is a Zen return to the Art of making a pot of beans. Breathe deeply and pour a fine glass of wine. Savor it and its flavor for the moment….

The Beatles and I by
To a child growing up in communist Poland, the Beatles were everything. There was Lenin, Marx and Brezhnev staring grimly from posters everywhere, promising a life of desolation, but just beyond the horizon, there was John, Paul, George and Ringo. We couldn’t buy Beatle records, but they filtered in anyway….

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.