I got out of The Pig and banged my palm on the RV's aluminum siding.
"Are you awake, Don?" I called. (pound pound)
"Hey, old man, rise and shine." I yelled. (pound pound)
"Don't make me come in there, old timer," I yelled good naturedly, "You know how I hate to get dog shit on my clothes." (pound pound)
Nothing. No sound. The dogs, Don's dogs, a brown pit bull and a black German Shepherd (Gigi and Jezabelle) just sat there in the driver's and passenger's seats staring their helpless, hopeless, homeless doggie stares and not another creature in the RV stirred, though I am sure there are all sorts of other creatures in there.
"Awww," I said to Gordon, disappointed, "He must be over at the school getting a free shower or hanging out at the homeless meeting table at McDonald's."
I got back into The Pig and drove Gordon over to Alondro Park to look for Don. As we were driving through the park, I explained to Gordon the hierarchy of the homeless park dwellers.
At the bottom of the caste system are the track dwellers. They don't actually live in the park, living, as they do, on the side of the railroad tracks at the nearby lumber yard. Track dwellers just use the park facilities; the restrooms, the tables, the sprinkler system and the pond (for fishing).
Storage house dwellers are next up the ladder. They, too, don't actually live in the park but use the park facilities extensively. Storage house dwellers, of course, live in storage rooms they've rented with their General Relief money. Betty The Bomb lives in a 2 by 5. Two feet wide, five feet deep . . . like a casket. The storage company has a special slit in the fence for the storage dwellers to use for coming and going so it won't upset the general public.
Next up the food chain are the bicycle bums. They actually live in the park and have all their earthly belongings strapped to a basket on their bicycles. Ponytail Bob is a bicycle bum. He's sort of the leader. I used to eat with him at the missions. He's about my age, though it's hard to tell because life on the street, or in the park, puts a lot of excess age on your face. Ponytail Bob has completely renounced all worldly possessions (except for his bicycle) and is deeply offended if you try to give him something.
Finally, at the top of the heirarchy, are the car and RV dwellers, the "A Number Ones of bumdom (see Lee Marvin in "Emporer of the North").
I explained all this to Gordon, Gordon from Beverly Hills, my buddy Gordie the homeless veteran from Beverly Hills, and his mouth mostly stayed open. He hadn't known of those entire subculture even though technically, he was/is an honorary member.
I was on a mission, though, so we left the park. I had to find the old anarchist, my attorney, and introduce him to my new buddy, the young anarchist.
END PART FOUR
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