August 14th
When I bedded down on a green on Winchester Country Club, I expect a certain degree of security. It’s a civilized place, with rules and order; I never considered sprinklers a scheduled part of the order. I was sleeping soundly on comfortable sod of the 10th hole when the sprinklers kicked on, giving me a shower inside my sleeping bag. I struggled out of the bag, to my feet, scampered across the green onto the fairway, cursing as I drug the sleeping bag behind me.
Soaking wet I found the nearest C-store and got a large cup of coffee. “Localized Thunderstorm,” I told the counter jockey. “Actually, my name’s Robert and I’m running for president, and I’m running the cleanest campaign in history.”
The counter jockey stared at me as if I was a midget Sasquatch and set my change on the counter.
I stepped out into the humid night, chilled from the store’s air conditioner. I found a nearby baseball field and hung my sleeping bag and my soaking clothes on a chain link fence while huddling in the dugout sipping my coffee. The warm humid air and the coffee warmed me quickly. My clothes and sleeping bag would weren’t as lucky.
At dawn, I realized I was naked, sitting in a little league dugout. If someone witnessed me, the situation wouldn’t look good for the campaign. I slinked from the dugout and slipped into my soaking clothes. I cursed Kentucky; my campaign in the state was ineffectual.
I returned to the same C-store, purchased another cup of coffee and tried to start a conversation with the morning counter jockey. “I don’t vote! Not interested! Fuck off!”
“Have a nice day,” I mumbled as I drug my tail out of C-store.
It was time to fold. I was giving up trying in Winchester. I just hope Helen Thomas, the legendary white house reporter, doesn’t learn I gave up on her home town. I found the tracks and headed south. Maybe Richmond would offer me better luck.
KY: I dried out and found myself on a campaign stop at Bottom’s Up on the corner of E. Main, Irvine, and Big Hill Ave. Once I walked inside I could feel my fortunes about to change. The home of Eastern Kentucky U. , Richmond was a college town and loaded with bars. I don’t know if because of my pipe cleaning or the impromptu shower, but my game was on and no topic could better your candidate. Within a few hours, I had reversed my fortunes in the Blue Grass State. I took my campaign up and down Main St. Around 8:00 PM I hitched a ride on a southbound. I kept my eyes open for East Pineville, where I would have to ditch this freight and catch another freight bound for Tennessee.
I jumped from this freight between Pineville, in which the sidewalks already were pulled up, and East Pineville. In the light of the nearly full moon, I followed the right hand switch and began walking through the night towards the Volunteer State. Kentucky wasn’t as rough on me as my recollections. In Retrospect, my route through the state was questionable. As I pulled up for the night in a small clearing near the tracks, I considered my options for another visit.
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