Hell on Wheels
A amazing writer. His real life tales and journey take you to better and more interesting places.
The Cicadas serenaded me on a steamy, weekend night as I made my way to the pay phone, across from the Checkers burger joint. That was my usual midnight route on those Westside sidewalks. Those routines helped to kill the boredom and stagnation that attacked my restless mind. My brother’s friend John was living in Hermosa Beach, California. I’d been trying to escape Florida, and needed to find a way to the Gold Coast.
I dialed his number, engaged him in a friendly back and forth, and indirectly tried to find my way on his floor. It wasn’t going to happen: we weren’t that close. Afterward, I ambled to Kennedy Avenue, the location of the Tampa Bay Center: a very large mall: probably the largest in the city at that time.
My side of the street was almost entirely dedicated to a series of Hospitals. The domestic black top was…
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