Sacramentos, the Not So Freshmaker

These are the things I know about Sacramento before arriving there shortly after Burning Man:

+ The city is home to the Sacramento Kings, an NBA franchise owned by the Maloof brothers, who also own The Palms Casino in Vegas.

+ One of my favorite basketball players growing up, former Phoenix Suns point guard Kevin Johnson, is running for mayor there.

+ Arnold Schwarzenegger, a man who has been elected governor of California despite having once given birth on screen, currently resides there.

That's pretty much it.

However, I had a picture in my head of Sacramento as a sprawling suburban landscape free from crime or bad thoughts. So imagine my surprise when I park in the worst neighborhood I've yet to see with a Walmart.

It can't be easy growing up in the hood. But the Sacramento hood? That's all pain, no glory. By the looks of things, the residents of this area can't have it much better than those who live in the slums of New York and Detroit and Chicago. But when's the last time a rapper got famous on the credibility of his rough upbringing on the streets of Sacramento?

I rest my case.

The plan is to hang out in Sacramento for about a week while I wind down from Burning Man, then head on over to nearby San Francisco. I've been to San Francisco twice, but I certainly wouldn't mind going again. It's a really remarkable city.

When I wake up in the morning, however, plans change.

"Excuse me? Do you know where the nearest train station is at?"

A young looking man with dirty hair and dark clothes is looking to hop a freight train out of town. He has been on the road for a couple years now, riding the rails from city to city and living off of the land. I offer to check my gps system for the nearest railroad, but not until I get a chance to use the restroom in Walmart.

"You're welcome to come along. I'll by you a coke," I say, feeling thirsty myself.

The man introduces himself as Spots, or Mike if I prefer. He is a well-spoken interesting guy with a lot to say about the hobo lifestyle. I am happy to buy him a coke and he is happy to interview for my documentary.

"I'm so glad I met you," he says, beaming. "When I woke up today, I was covered in ants. It's nice to have something good happen."

"How old are you, Spots?"

"Nineteen."

When we get back to the van, I start to check my gps system, then think better of it.

"Hey, where are you going to?"

"I was thinking Dunsmuir."

I have relatives in Eugene, and Dunsmuir is on the way. I'm sure they would be happy to see me, and I've already been to San Francisco twice. Besides, the kid's nineteen.

"You know what, why don't I give you a ride? I was going to head on up there soon, anyway."

"That'd be great!"

"Hop in."

And off we go.