When hitchiking, I was always with a friend , or accepted rides with women only, with few rare exceptions. Most often the person who picked me or us up was a friend or neighbor, and my partner Christophers glorious bright red long wavy hair afforded us considerable recognition on the roads. We came to be known as 'safe' and
good company, and when you see so many empty cars go by, it's a crime not to ask to fill some space in those mostly empty cars, or to be stuck for lack of a ride. Safe? not really. Just better, for me,
than being stuck immobile. One should always carry mace, though, when hitchhiking, and I did, Christopher or no.
Still, we had
lots of fine conversations, and made some friends. I did this for over fifteen years on the stretch of 290 between Austin and Blanco. Go to town, busk (play music for passersby on the street) until
I had enough for food and supplies, then back to Blanco county up on my beloved hilltop, to garden , and work on art and music and whatnot, then about two days after I had run out of food, back to Austin again. I would avarage about half what the panhandlers down the block made after singing my heart out for eight or more hours a day, as many as seven days a week, really hard work, people Ikept my guitar in tune, tried to look pretty but decent, and put on a good show. I got to sing and play what I wanted, dealt with lots of harrassment from the police, who never came back after going to get their 'supevisor' , usually when I refused to budge from my post at the corner of Fourth and Colorado, or in the alcove of the Carpe Diem Salon across from the Driskill Hotel.
One of my finest memories is the cops and several magnnificently attired transvestites from Oilcan Harrys line dancing to my tunes together one night rockin' night.
That was a long time in coming, though , and for many years before the police left me alone, I would often have to explain when they harrassed me and tried to arrest me for various non-existant nefarious crimes
that I was simply exercising my right to free speech
and that the money in my guitar case was my property, and they did not want to mess with a lawsuit about constitutional anything, and I didn't suck,kept it clean and didn't get drunk or too high to play.
I would play this song to discourage people from
throwing their cigarrette butts on the sidewalk in
front of me, as a nice way of saying please dont do that. I kicked butt and kept it clean, and
and even fed myself, and
bought a small parcel of land in Blanco County. I also did not put up with sexual harrassment. I was , and am free, and that is the greatest thing, you know.
I never offered anything to anyone except the music, freely, never asked for money, never made any deals. Does anyone of the millions of people who heard me play out there
all those years, want
to buy a CD,
want to comment,
relive some memories and good times? I
can no longer busk, and my legs are barely usable(though I will always find a way to dance), and
can hardly stand for more than a few seconds at a time.


Words and music by Deb E. Dee
Well, I went to the desert to find good measure;
D Em
My eyes can finally see.
Wake up, wake up from all your old bad dreams.
When you were asleep, you were in so deep
D Em
That you didn't hear the call.
Louder than your beating heart was the music of the
Shopping mall.

I'ts money that matters and
G D Em
Greed that shatters this feeling we call hope.
{The eye on the pyramid is winkin'at you .
Doesn't anyone get the joke?}x2

Well, you can't get far with an old tip jar,

But the people have been kind.

As I run from the shadows of the loves I've known

To the towns along the line.

For an Anthony dollar, I could sing you a holler

That is bound to blow your mind.

So pick up your butts when you dance on the sidewalk

And your bare feet will be fine.

Don't burn your soul on an old bad habit

And your bare feet will be fine.

Refrain: La, la la la la....etc.

Well, I stick out my thumb on the old 290,

That's the road from Austin town.

And the people with room in their cars and their

Hearts are the way I get around.

There's a place in my heart for a highway man;

He helped me when I was down.

So pick up ypour butts when you dance on the


Let your feet fly on the sound

When you bare feet hit the ground.

Refrain: La, la la la la.......several times.