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Nothing Left to Lose:

A Dedication to Janis and Bobby

by Justin Jackson

July 2011

The tire busted flat on Bobby’s pick-up. He stood in the sun and cursed the tire, God, and the draft that caused him to leave town. He was on the run, and I ran with him. We were almost twenty miles outside of Baton Rouge. The sticky heat of that afternoon left me feeling as faded as the old jeans I wore. I exhaled a sigh of relief and flicked my cigarette as Bobby pointed to the clouds gathering in the East.

“I think it’s gonna rain, Janis.” he uttered, “I’ll try and get us a ride.”

Bobby McGee was exquisite. He was tall, slender, had dark curls of hair that stuck out from under his hat, and he was mine. He was all I needed. We were on a road with no destination. He managed to thumb down a diesel, and the driver told us that he could take us as far as New Orleans. We had nothing else to do and no place else to go, so we got in. I sat between a stranger and a fugitive running from a war. It was silent except for the sound of the windshield-wipers fighting with the rain. I decided to take my harmonica out of my dirty, red bandanna. I started playing softly. Bobby sang an old blues song and softly stroked my hand. The driver joined in, singing slightly off key. To pass the time, we sang every song that driver knew.

My daddy always told me that freedom feels like you have nothing left to lose. I told Bobby that several times when we first left. I thought it was a good feeling, and Bobby found encouragement in those words. The driver dropped us off near a park. We found a small, grassy clearing and lied down. The sky had cleared and left stars everywhere. I wadded up my jacket and used it as a pillow. The fringe felt soft against my cheek.

“What do you want to do, Janis?” he whispered.

“I want to just lie here.”

“But where do you want to go?”

“I don’t know. We have no money.”

We talked in circles until we fell asleep. There was no blanket. No roof. It was just us. When we woke, we guessed it was sometime around mid-morning. Since neither of us had a watch, we never knew what time it was. We didn’t need to know; we had each other, and no place to be.

“You hungry, Bobby?”

“Yeah.” he yawned, “But we’re broke.”

I sat, staring at the grass, and came up with a plan.

“We could sit down near that park bench. If I play my harmonica and you sing a little, people might throw us enough change to get a meal.”

We sat down. I spread my bandanna on the ground and put a few dimes and nickel on it so people would know what to do. I began to play, and Bobby started to sing. Some of the people distracted me. Businessmen or mothers with their children walked past us. They weren’t on the run like we were. They had a place to sleep at night and, hopefully, someone to go home to. Occasionally, one of them threw us some change. A few even threw a dollar here and there. It took some time, but we had enough for some coffee, a couple doughnuts, and a fresh pack of smokes. I put the leftover change in my pocket. I knew we would need it later.

After we ate, Bobby immediately discussed finding a way out of New Orleans. He didn’t like to stay stagnant for too long. He was terrified of getting caught and sent to Vietnam. We didn’t know where to go, but it didn’t matter. We just wanted to go somewhere, and we wanted to do it together. We walked to the outskirts of New Orleans and saw train tracks. Bobby stopped, and I stood just behind his shoulder.

“Hey, Janis.” he smiled. “I have a plan.”

“What?”

“Let’s walk down the tracks a bit, and see if we can find a train. We can hop on and see where it takes us.”

We kicked rocks out of the way as we headed down the tracks and laughed about the last drunken nights before we left. We walked across Louisiana, while the sun walked across the sky. It was getting dark, and the crickets began to chirp around us. Finally, we saw lights in the distance behind us. This was it; our ride was here. He stopped me and directed me off to the edge of the grass.

“Bobby,” I mumbled, “how exactly am I supposed to get on?”

“We’ll jump on an empty storage car that has its doors open.”

The train was so close that the ground vibrated. He was desperate to leave, and I was too terrified to object to his idea. I did it to stay with Bobby and keep him away from Vietnam. The train roared past us. Bobby started to run.

“Janis, there’s one.” he yelled

“…Okay”. I said, running after him.

He was so much faster than me. Bobby jumped on a ladder and held his hand out.

“Grab on.” he screamed.

I reached and missed. I reached again, and I stumbled slightly.

“Janis. You have to grab on.”

He believed in me, so I tried one last time. Our hands finally clinched together as he lifted me on the train. We were safe. I sat down, panting. Bobby leaned against the door of the train car, whipping the sweat off his brow. The inside of the train car was excruciatingly hot, but we found solace in the breeze of the open door. He sat down and put his hand on my knee, and I put my head on his shoulder. The night brought in cooler air, and we sat side by side watching the fireflies speckle the air with light. Bobby put his arm around me, and buried my head in his chest. I felt his heartbeat as it pounded against my face. I wanted more, so I kissed him. It was slow and obsessive. I loved him.

“Janis…”

“Yeah?”

“I think I know where I want to go.”

“California”

“Why? What about going back home?”

“There’s a lot of people there. I could maybe get a good job. I might even start a band.”

“Ok.”

“Do you want to go?”

I didn’t answer because I wasn’t sure what I wanted. I followed Bobby, but for what? I wanted to be with him, but I raced across the country chasing his dream of freedom. It was a dream without a final destination, lacking anything tangible. We loped around for weeks so Bobby could avoid the draft. I wondered when it would end. Reluctantly, I said yes. As I watched him run his fingers over my palm and play with one of my bracelets, I decided that he was a chance worth taking.

The train stopped periodically. We used that time to go to the bathroom or find food. We had a couple dollars in change left from our stint in New Orleans. During one of the stops, Bobby found a vending machine. He was able to get a fair amount of chips, candy bars, and sodas to last us until we reached our destination. It took us as far as coalmine outside of Kentucky, where Bobby and I decided to start our journey to California. We decided to find another route besides taking a train. We risked being busted by train workers. If caught I could be arrested, and Bobby would be sent to war.

We decided that it would best if we stuck to truck stops. They were usually pretty dependable to help with guys running from the draft. We snuck out of the train car in search of a nearby town.

“Wait, Janis.”

“Why?”

“There’s something that I want to do.”

Bobby took out his pocket knife and carved something on the wood floor. It was a heart that said “Bobby and Janis”. I blushed at his gesture and silently kissed him. Again, we walked. Bobby explained the changes that were happening in music, and how he wanted to be a part of it. He told me he could make it happen in California. We came across a truck stop not too far from the train car. We found a trucker who was westbound and offered to take us as far as Salinas. He welcomed the company. He was an older man, and looked like he had spent a lot of time alone on the road. For two day, he told us stories about his wife in Michigan, his time in the navy, and how much he enjoyed Georgia. He suggested that we go there after our visit to California.

We reached Salinas and said goodbye to the trucker. It was pretty there. It was a small town with traditional Mexican charm. We walked around and window-shopped down quaint streets and joked about how one of us should learn Spanish. Shortly after, Bobby again started to find us a ride to California. The more he talked about making a life in Los Angeles, the more nervous I became. Finally, I cracked.

“Bobby, I don’t know if I want to go to California.”

“Janis….why?”

“My home is on the other side of the states.”

“Janis, I need to go there. Please don’t back on me now. I need you there with me.”

“Bobby…I don’t know if I can.”

“The draft, Janis. The draft.”

He was noticeably upset now. My eyes started to tear up with guilt.

“Bobby, I know you’re scared. But this war can’t last forever. Maybe if we just laid low…”

“I am not going over there to die.” his voice raised.

“I know Bobby…but….please….”

“No, Janis”.

“Please Bobby, let’s just go back home.”

“California will be my home, Janis. And yes, I’m going home.”

That was it. I let him slip away from me as he walked off. I watched him fade into the sunset. His image grew smaller until he was gone. I exhaled. A part of me walked away with him. My arms folded across my chest, and I stood there for a few minutes. I watched him fade away. My home was with Bobby, but not in California. I tried to stay with him. And while I did, I experienced freedom. I walked slowly in the opposite direction.

Then the reality set in. I had spent weeks on the run with Bobby McGee. I was thousands of miles away from home, I was hungry, and I needed to shower. I walked over to a hotel, and I convinced a maid to let me use a shower. She took me into a room that just been occupied, so the management wouldn’t notice that I had used some of the towels and a little bar of soap. I undressed, and stepped into the running water. I focused on the sensation of the water that rushed over me. I wanted to forget that Bobby would not be on the other side of the door. I stood there under the running water, concentrating.

I couldn’t do it. Bobby was gone. I called him my lover, and I called him my man. I did the best that I could to keep him. I cried over him, I sang with him, and I ran with him. I didn’t know that freedom could hurt like that. As I toweled off, I thought of his hands. I pretended for a moment that he was drying me off. It only lasted a second before I blinked myself back into reality. It wasn’t him that wiped the water off of my skin. I walked out of the bathroom. While I was in the shower, the maid finished cleaning the room. She was gone, but she had left a note with some money:

Take this to the truckstop

And get some dinner.

I know it’s not much,

But you need to eat.

Lorraine

Her name was Lorraine. I was so fixated on taking a shower that I didn’t even get a chance to introduce myself. I folded the note and put it in my pocket. I walked over to the truck stop and ordered a cheeseburger and a glass of water. I wondered how far away Bobby was from me and what he was thought about. I gazed out the window and wondered if he wondered where I was. I ate in silence.

I left. I didn’t know how I was getting home. I felt numb. Bobby was gone. I walked slowly down the road and caught myself wanting to turn around and find him. But I couldn’t do that. As much as I loved him, Bobby belonged somewhere where I didn’t. I still think about him standing next that flat tired trying to hitch us a ride. He embodied freedom with his aimless demeanor. I didn’t have the same strength that he possessed. I miss him. I miss me and Bobby McGee.