Seeing Further

Walking from my office, back to my car, I was passed by Further, one of Ken Kesey’s psychedelic buses. There were happy hippies inside, and on the roof, and they were waving at us and singing “Age of Aquarius,” and a guy at the front of the roof had a microphone and was saying various mellow things that I couldn’t quite make out. The bus drove past the basketball arena and turned south. When I got as far as the arena’s parking attendant, he was explaining the bus to a curious young couple.

Wikipedia photo of Further:



Right then, I felt proud of this connection with counterculture Americana. My mom had been in freshman comp with Kesey, my step-dad waited on him at the Springfield liquor store, and once in high school after a Spanish class dinner a few of us drove past his farm in Pleasant Hill, in the dark, singing that “I’m a Train” song that was currently popular. In other words, he was just a guy, and yet he was special, not just because of his writing (which I really don’t much care for, seriously), but for who he was at that time, while also being one of us.