SoHumBorn Sunday:The Ride Part 1-3

In December 2008, a Southern Humboldt blogger began posting fictional tales of the marijuana culture. Some people were appalled. Most were enthralled. For three months her stories gripped the online community and then, abruptly, she was gone. Even though SoHumBorn pulled her blog, for months her stories were available in the cached version but eventually they, too, were swallowed into the dark abyss. Recently she gave me permission to revive them. I’ll be doing one each Sunday for awhile. Do you have a favorite? Let me know and I’ll try and include it. The stories of this culture, true and fictional, need to be saved.
At the bottom of the post are links to all the other stories published so far.

The Ride pt.1

Her dream is coming true.

There is only one problem.  Her dad hadn’t sold her pounds yet, and with each passing day she gets more anxious.

She had called a salesman at the dealership that has the car. He told her that there were several other people interested in that same car.  He said it would certainly sell any day now.

Her pounds are just sitting here, while other people are trying to buy her car!

She’d tried to get her parents to just give her the money now,  and they could keep her money when it sells,  but they said they can’t.  They said they had to cover their payments and bills, not to mention the cost of her school.

That just made it worse, like it was her fault they couldn’t buy her the car!

She told them how the salesman said other people are going to buy her car, & her dad just laughed and said salesmen always say that.  Her mom said there are plenty of cars out there and she should relax.  Her parents are asses.  They don’t even care.

So she started asking all her friends if they knew any buyers.

One drunken night at a party out in The Gulch the boyfriend of a girl they knew from school said he knew a guy that would buy her weed, but they’d have to drive it down to the city.

It was perfect!  The care she wanted was at a dealer in San Rafael.  They could go, get the money, and she could buy her car on the way home.

She knew her parents would never agree, so a hazy plan was hatched.

She would liberate the eight pounds from her parent’s hidden storage, (the boy suggested she bring her parents weed as well, but she didn’t think that would be cool) and then they’d go old school.  Pretending to stayover at each others house’s for a night, while they made the run to the city.

Who cared if they got in trouble after they got the money and the car?  They’re eighteen, it’s their weed, their money.  They weren’t really doing anything wrong.

Maybe it will help people realize they’re grown, and can handle their own business.

Now they’re driving down 101 with eight pounds tucked behind the seats of her truck.

The plan is to get to San Francisco, check into a hotel, then call the guy from the party.  Once they let him know where they’re staying he’s going to send the buyer to them.

The cloak and dagger feel of it all is pretty exciting.  They had even burst into a impromptu version of the mission impossible theme song while loading the pounds into the truck.

Now on 101 and heading south they are giddy with the thrill of what they’re doing.


The girls were in a great mood.  They were so pleased with how their plan had worked.  They had the stereo bumping sexy rap lyrics while they were excitedly discussing the purchases they were going to make in the city.

Emily had asked her parents for a new car to take to college.  They had balked, insisting that her ’91 Toyota truck was still in great shape.  They lectured her about not appreciating what she had, and drove her insane with story, after story, about what pieces of shit they’d been forced to drive when they were young.  She didn’t care.  All of her friends had nicer cars.  She wasn’t asking for a BMW, (though that would be cool) or even a brand new car.  Just a cute little Honda.  Something she could pimp out with some tight wheels and a stereo.

She spent an entire  year begging, badgering, and browbeating them.  Finally they relented, sort of.

Her dad said she should work for what she wanted, and had given her one of his old patches.  It was just four holes, on the south slope across the creek.  They would give her the starts and amendments, but she would have to take care of it all Summer long.  No trips up to Ruth Lake, or out to The Cove for a weekend.

Then… If she doesn’t kill it.  If the rats don’t chew it down.  If the deer don’t eat it, and Jah willing, CAMP lets her keep it.  She might make enough for that little car she wants so badly.

Her mom didn’t really like the plan.  She gave in though, hoping that it would keep her out of trouble until she left for school in Santa Cruz that winter, and with the thought that the hard work involved would inspire her to take college seriously, and do something real with her life.

Emily had surprised everyone, she had thrown herself into the little garden project with enthusiasm.  She’d asked her best friend Kaitlin to help her, and Kaitlin had agreed, in return for a twenty five percent share of the crop.  Emily knew it wouldn’t be any fun alone, and giving Kaitlin one plant was well worth the help.

All summer long they had hiked the trail through the dry golden grass, that when caressed by the breeze, whispered secrets of all the others who had walked this land before them.  They hiked and sweat, carrying water, fish emulsion, rat traps. Whatever supplies they needed, they carried.  They had even planted strawberries around the base of the plants.

After working and hiking all morning, the long hot afternoons were spent down at the creek.  They swam and sunbathed, drinking SoBe and talking about the guys they were going to meet in college.  The little valley echoed with the bubbling sounds of the creek mixed with their laughter.  Smells of warm earth and cool water blended with their coconut scented skin.  The summer was filled with the kind of days often idealized by age.

On the walk home they’d play the “what if” game.  “What if it’s twenty pounds?”  “What if it’s so awesome we get five thousand a pound?”  Dreaming and laughing they’d planned out the ways they were going spend the money.

As the long days of summer flowed by Emily’s new car became cooler and cooler in their stories, and Kaitlin’s new laptop became a laptop, a new iPhone, a Louis Vuitton handbag, and a pair of Jimmy Choo boots.  The game never had an unfavorable ending.

Summer faded slowly into fall, and after the first hard rain in October harvest time came.  Cutting down the plants they’d poured so much of themselves into felt both triumphant, and traitorous.  They carried the plants to the drying shed, that once inside, looked like some kind of giant stringed instrument.  With pruning shears the big plants were cut into more manageable lengths, and then hung along the bailing wire lines.

Her little garden did nice.  Nothing worth writing to High Times about, but once it was clipped it came to just over eight pounds.  Six for Emily Two for Kaitlin, they were thrilled.

Emily had scoured the Internet and Autotrader for hours and finally found her car.  It was perfect, she was so in love with it.  It was a 2002 Honda Prelude, and everything about it was perfect, even the color, it was called Nighthawk Black Pearl.  The windows were tinted, and it had a sunroof.  She can totally picture herself rollin’ around Santa Cruz looking extraordinarily hot in her sexy little car.


Kaitlin spots him on the shoulder of the road as the highway narrows back down to two lanes north of Willits.

“Em’check him out.”

He’s standing with his thumb out.  He doesn’t look like the hitchhikers they are used to.  He’s clean and well dressed, his white shoes gleaming on the blacktop.  They slow down and take a long look at the young man as they pass.

“He’s hot!”

They laugh, and on a wild impulse that fits the day’s mood, decide to pick him up.


Twelth:SoHumBornSunday: The Ride Part 4&5
Thirteenth:SoHumBorn Sunday:The Ride Part 6&7
Fourteenth:SoHumBornSunday:The Ride Part 8-13 conclusion


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