Archive for the ‘High Plains Drifter’ Tag

Dreams from the LORD: An Observation   2 comments



From 2003 through 2010, I wrote in a journal about the dreams that the Lord had given me and what the Lord was teaching me at the time; I would write about my hitchhiking travels and I would also write some commentary on Scriptures that I had read.  The journal was called Dreams from the LORD.  The journal was in two volumes:  Dreams from the LORD 2003-2006 (272 pages) and Dreams from the LORD 2007-2010 (225 pages).

I was looking at the stats for my High Plains Drifter blog earlier today and I noticed that Dreams from the LORD 2007-2010 had 350 pageviews, Dreams from the LORD 2003-2006 (Part I) had 211 pageviews and Dreams from the LORD 2003-2006 (Part II) had 121 pageviews.  The interesting thing about this is that I have only sold less than 100 copies of my book High Plains Drifter:  A Hitchhiking Journey Across America—it was published in December 2008.

So what does this mean?  Looks like Dreams from the LORD 2007-2010 is my bestseller.  I believe High Plains Drifter:  A Hitchhiking Journey Across America is too expensive (the average price is $19.95); I wish it was being sold for under 10 bucks.  Dreams from the LORD is free to read.  I am hoping that some people are growing stronger in their Christian faith by reading my journal.

Dreams from the LORD 2003-2006 (Part I)
Dreams from the LORD 2003-2006 (Part II)
Dreams from the LORD 2007-2010


High Plains Drifter (short story)   7 comments


High Plains Drifter
By Timothy Michael Shey

The big Kenworth roared west through Wyoming.

“So how long’ve ya been on the road?” the truck driver asked.

“A day or two,” the young man replied.

“Where’d ya start out?”

“Western Nebraska. I was working on a ranch for a couple of days and got sick of it. I have a friend in California I want to see.”



The truck driver was heavy-set and wore a short-cropped beard and baseball cap. The young man was slender and wore glasses. His only possessions: a backpack and sleeping bag.

“Ya got a long ways to go,” the truck driver said. “I’ll get ya to Salt Lake. Then I’m headin’ north.”

“Thanks for picking me up. It was cold standing out there.”

“No problem.”

The rugged, rolling terrain of Wyoming. The sagebrush. The dry air.

“So what’d ya do before the ranch?” the truck driver asked.

“I was in school in Manhattan.”

“New York?”

“No. Kansas.”

“Where ya from?”

“Garden City.”

“I see.”

The young man looked over the horizon to his right. There was silence for ten minutes except for the noise of the engine and the bounce of the tractor-trailer.

“So who’s this friend of yours in California?” the truck driver asked.

“She’s a poet.”

“She?” The truck driver smiled and looked at the young man.

“I’ve never met her before. I’ve read a couple of her books and we’ve exchanged a few letters, that’s all.”

“I see.”

“She has a daughter going to school in Santa Cruz that I thought I might like to visit, also.”

“I don’t know much about poetry. Is it like drivin’ a truck?” the truck driver asked jokingly.

“Exactly.” Exactly. Poetry is breath and fire and pain. Poetry is getting drunk or stacking hay on a ranch in western Nebraska. It is holding a beautiful woman in your arms; it is holding a baby in your lap. It is dropping out of high school because of the shallowness and stupidity. Exactly. Poetry is hitchhiking all the way to California to see a brilliant woman who loves the letters you write.

“So where’d ya stay last night? It got pretty cold out there.”

“A rancher picked me outside of Laramie. He drove me to Rock Springs where his parents live. They let me stay overnight. Wonderful people. Gave me supper and breakfast.”

“No kiddin’?”

“It was pretty incredible.”

“I’ll say. All a person hears about are people gettin’ robbed or killed on the road.”

“Yeah. Really.”

The big Kenworth was going 80 miles per hour, passing cars and trucks. The speed and the power, the stress of steel and bolt, piston and axle and 18 wheels. Going west. Going west.

“So where you going after Salt Lake City?” the young man asked.

“Headin’ north of Pocatello. Then I’ll head back to Denver with another load.”

Fire and breath and pain and heading north to Pocatello. Pocatello of your dreams. Pocatello of your nightmares. Six men die in gun battle with federal marshals at the Pocatello Corral. Southern Idaho desert. Dry heat, dry grass, dry blood on dry earth. Exactly. The breath of the moment, the heat of the battle—firefight in the Pocatello Corral. One federal marshal wounded. Dry sun on another horizon. This is not Kansas. This is not Nebraska. This is Pocatello. Pocatello of your nightmares.

“This sure is wide open country,” the young man said.

“It’s a wasteland. Desert.”

“I like wide open spaces.”

“Then ya won’t like California. Ever been to L.A. or Frisco?” the truck driver asked.


“Where does your poet friend live?”

“Big Sur.”

“Never been there.”

California of your nightmares. Big Sur of your dreams. Fire out of Kansas. Wheatfields and golden landscapes and dry air and blue sky and. Words, ink on paper, meter and fire. The anvil and the hammer and the fireblood of a wounded heart. Laceration and pain. Fire. The wordsmith labors and sweats and bleeds and brings forth new life. Anvil and hammer. The hot steel is shaped. Blow after blow. Sparks fly in the hot and dry air of Kansas.

“So how old are ya?” the truck driver asked.


“So what do ya want to do with your life?”

“I want to be a bounty hunter or President of the United States.”

The truck driver smiled and chuckled. “Sounds good to me. Ever see High Plains Drifter with Clint Eastwood?”

“I am the High Plains Drifter.”

Flame out of Kansas. Riding west to the gold rush of your dreams. Desperate, unshaven, sunburned and hungry. Big Sur on your mind. Leather boots, leather skin, the stink of horse sweat. Shot six men in Pocatello just to watch them die. The bullet wounds of your heart, the anguish of the moment. Six men in Pocatello. Just to watch them die. You cinch the saddle down tight and ride west with the hot wind of Idaho at your back. You will ride west where the Pacific meets the edge of the Universe. There you will grow new muscle and ride a horse of a different color.

West. Flame out of Kansas. Exactly.

The big Kenworth rolled west through Wyoming and eternity.

May 1995
Iowa State University

[Republished by]

High Plains Drifter (1973)
Clint Eastwood’s film High Plains Drifter (1973)
Meeting a Former Editor from Warner Brothers
New Camaldoli
Excerpts from “The Poor in Ames”, Ethos Magazine


Two Pleasant Surprises: High Plains Drifter Revisited   3 comments

Dreams from the LORD 2007-2010
17 November 2010

About five days ago I was hitchhiking south of Columbus, Montana and this guy picked me up. He drove me to Absarokee.

I told him that I had been hitchhiking for a number of years. I also said that my book High Plains Drifter was published two years ago. He said that a friend of his from Forsyth, Montana saw my book at the public library there and had read it. I never told him that my book was at the library in Forsyth. That was a pleasant surprise.

18 November 2010

This morning I hitchhiked from Victor, Idaho to Wilson, Wyoming. I got dropped off at this gas station in Wilson and I bought a candy bar there. As I walked through Wilson heading towards Jackson, I saw this guy walking to his vehicle that was parked on the shoulder. He looked at me and I looked at him; I thought I recognized him.

He pointed at me and I walked up to him and said something like, “I know you. You’re the guy from Scotland.” (Actually, I think his dad was from Scotland.)

We shook hands and hugged each other. His name was Ian. Ian had picked me up about a year ago and he took me to his place in Wilson and we had a cup of tea; we had a great talk. I think Ian has picked me up twice coming out of Jackson.

So Ian and I were talking and he said, “I read your book and loved it!”

“What?!” I exclaimed. “Wow, no one has ever said that to me before. Thanks. I hope you got something out of it.”

Ian told me that a friend of his went through and bought a copy of High Plains Drifter for him.

We talked for a while longer and then he said that he and his friend were going up to Teton Pass to go skiing. We shook hands and parted company.

God’s timing is always perfect. I could have gotten a ride from Victor to Jackson, but no, the Lord had me dropped off in Wilson instead. It was good to see Ian again. I am guessing I will run into him again in the near future.

An American Pilgrim: Some Reflections on High Plains Drifter
Book Review:  High Plains Drifter
High Plains Drifter (typescript)


This is from my Author’s Note page, High Plains Drifter:  A Hitchhiking Journey Across America:

“It was the will of my heavenly Father to hitchhike in thirty-nine states.  I did some hitchhiking in 1986 and 1987 and also from 1996 to 2000.   In that time I went coast to coast fourteen times.  The shortest time on the road was three days; the longest time on the road was eight months.  There were times when I was forced to take a bus (like in Wyoming because hitchhiking is illegal); sometimes I would take a bus in cold weather or someone would buy me a ticket to help me out.  But for the most part, hitchhiking made up 99% of my travels throughout the United States.

“I was able to share my faith in the Lord Jesus Christ with countless people, the Lord taught me many things on the road and much spiritual bondage was broken on my journey (hitchhiking itself is a type of fasting and prayer).

“I am eternally grateful that the Lord protected me and provided for me in my travels.  Because of my hitchhiking experiences, I have come to the conclusion that there are no accidents in the Kingdom of Heaven; God’s timing is absolutely perfect.  With God all things are possible—like hitchhiking through a blizzard in the panhandle of Texas.”

Tim Shey’s website:

Greensburg, Kansas   Leave a comment

Greensburg, Kansas

Dreams from the LORD 2007-2010
29 April 2008

I am standing on the steps of the courthouse in Greensburg, Kansas. I just hitchhiked from Pratt to Greensburg this afternoon on U.S. 54. A year ago (4 May 2007) a tornado hit Greensburg; it looks like it totally destroyed eighty per cent of the town. Houses were taken off of their foundations, lots of trees were uprooted and there are still pieces of metal embedded in many of the trees that are left standing. Locals told me that the tornado was two miles wide. I have never seen devastation like I have seen here in Greensburg. The people of Greensburg have done an excellent job in cleaning up their town; you see brand new homes going up everywhere.

I walked past a CBS News trailer. President Bush is going to be in town this weekend to speak at the Greensburg High School Graduation Commencement. I am sure there will be a lot of media in town for the President’s visit.

This past week I stayed at Lawrence and Cheryl’s place in rural Stafford, Kansas. I met Cheryl and her daughter, Jessica, and Jessica’s husband, Grisha, six years ago when I was hitchhiking through St. John. My home base from November 2001 to August 2002 was St. John. I knew several people in St. John and would stay at their homes whenever I was passing through. Those people no longer live in St. John. So it definitely was the Lord’s will to go to Stafford.

While I was staying at Lawrence and Cheryl’s place, a lady named Connie phoned me and asked me to speak at the First Baptist Church in Stafford on Sunday. So I preached on Acts Chapter 10 and on obedience to the Lord. The Lord really blessed me for preaching at First Baptist. The congregation also gave me a generous offering, so I was able to get a motel in Pratt last night, I got a haircut this morning and I made photocopies of High Plains Drifter and Dreams from the Lord and mailed them to Lawrence and Cheryl. Cheryl is not into computers and the Internet, so now she can read the photocopies instead of using the Internet.

Since I saw Jessica and Grisha last (2002), they have had four kids. The oldest is Jesse (5 years) and the second oldest is David (3 years); they also have baby twins—a boy and a girl. Jessica later told me that when she was praying with the kids before bedtime, David said this: “Dear God, thank you that Mr. Tim is not dead. If Mr. Tim wants a toy, please give him a toy. If Mr. Tim needs a car, please give him a car.” I thought it was so funny.

It was a very blessed week for me. I spent part of three days pruning the trees and cleaning up broken limbs around Lawrence and Cheryl’s place—there was an ice storm in January. They let me use the car, so I was able to go to the library in Stafford and in St. John to get some work done on my website. Lawrence and Cheryl have a beautiful, peaceful place out in the country; I enjoyed taking walks down the gravel road and in the fields with their four pet dogs. It looks like the winter wheat is doing very well—they must’ve had plenty of snow this winter.

The courthouse here in Greensburg is still standing, but it doesn’t look like it is being used at this time. To the west and south of here (the corner of Florida and Oak Street) is where most of the devastation happened. Someone told me that eleven people died because of the tornado. On the corner of Florida and Main Street, there is a lone, brick building standing. All around this building nothing was left, just rubble. It looks like this building was at “ground zero.”

Looks like I will head west to Garden City. From Garden I will then mosey on up north into Nebraska on U.S. 83. It has been a beautiful, breezy day. It is nice to be in this part of Kansas again. When I hitchhiked back to St. John and Stafford, it felt like I was coming home.

The Ronald Reagan Family   2 comments

Dreams from the LORD 2007-2010
30 September 2010

Last night I had a dream where I was on a passenger train. It looked like the train was going through some mountains. Sitting across the aisle from me were Ronald and Nancy Reagan and their two small children: the boy looked like he was three years old and the girl looked like a few years older. Ronald Reagan was singing a song—I believe it was an American patriotic song. His wife, Nancy, glanced at me.
Then the train stopped at this station. We were in a foreign country. The Reagan family filed out of the train and onto the platform. It looked like we were in China. I followed behind the Reagan family as they left their seats. I did not get off at the exact place that they did. I may have got off the train at the next station.


A Chinese Christian Gives Me a Ride
Dreams from the LORD 2011-2012
1 August 2009
Last night I had a dream where I saw President Ronald Reagan.  He was playing a guitar and looked very old.  It looked like he had been out of the White House for several years.  President Reagan was surrounded by many people—they looked like reporters.
President Reagan saw me, smiled at me and walked over to where I was standing.  We spoke for a short while.
Then this woman walked up to me; she looked like a reporter.  We talked for a while.  I told her that I had a book published.  She said that she had heard of it and told me the title of a book.  It was the wrong title.  I told her my book was High Plains Drifter.  I found a piece of paper, folded it in two and began writing High Plains Drifter:  A Hitchhiking Journey Across America.  I was writing with an old-fashioned fountain pen—the ink dripped onto the paper in a couple of places.  I was almost finished writing the title of my book when the dream ended.
Quotes from Thomas Jefferson
President McKinley’s Dream
Ronald Reagan’s Dream
[Rewind] The Audacity of Obama’s Sneering Tribute to Ronald Reagan
Harry Truman, Hoboes and the Santa Fe Railroad
A Dream about Donald Trump


Dreams from the LORD 2007-2010
31 December 2008

Last night I had two dreams. In the first dream, I saw this Chinese man rob another man of his money. I walked up to the Chinese man, who was now standing with his friend—this man was also from China. I took a sharp stick, pressed it against his neck, and told him to give me all of his money. He gave me a wad of bills from his back pocket. I kept the wad of money for a couple of minutes and then threw it back at him because I felt sorry for him. I then walked away.

Meeting a Former Editor from Warner Brothers   Leave a comment

This story is a conversation between a hitchhiker and a former editor from Warner Brothers. The editor did some work on the film High Plains Drifter.

It was probably the spring of 1997. I hitchhiked north on U.S. 395 from southern California and got dropped off in Bishop. Bishop is a very beautiful place.

The mountains to the east were dry and brown, the mountains to the west (Sierra Nevadas) were rugged and snow-covered. There are a lot of irrigated ranches in that valley. I walked through Bishop for a couple of miles and then stopped north of town on U.S. 395. I waited for a short while and this vehicle pulled over to pick me up.

The guy who gave me a ride was probably in his late fifties or early sixties. He told me that he was coming from a ranch that he owned in Mexico; he was heading to Mammoth Lakes where he owned a grocery store. I told him that I was hitchhiking around the country for a short while; I had just quit my job at Harold Pike Construction Company in Ames, Iowa (Pike Construction hired me ten times in four years, I was grateful that they let me work for them so many times).

“So what did you do before you bought your ranch?” I asked.

“I worked for Warner Brothers as an editor,” he replied. “I worked at Warner Bothers for a number of years and got tired of being in the studio.”

“So what films did you work on?” I asked.

“One film I worked on was High Plains Drifter,” he said.

I looked at him and exclaimed, “No way! High Plains Drifter? That is one of my favorite westerns. You are not going to believe this, but in 1995 I had a short story published by Ethos magazine. The title of my short story is ‘High Plains Drifter.'”



At the time, I had a few copies of my short story in a folder in my backpack. I would pass out my story to people if they were interested in reading it.

“When you drop me off, I will give you a copy of my short story,” I said.

“Sounds good.”

We drove north on U.S. 395. At Lake Crowley he turned off the road and dropped me off at this intersection. I dug out my folder that was in my backpack and gave him a copy of “High Plains Drifter.”

“Thanks,” he said.

“Thanks for the ride.”

He drove off and I started walking up U.S. 395. I walked for a short while. The sun was down and I needed to find a place to sleep. I jumped over this fence and walked out into this sagebrush maybe a quarter of a mile from Lake Crowley. I rolled out my sleeping bag and slept there. I think it got down in the upper 20s F that night.

About my meeting the guy who gave me a ride from Bishop to Lake Crowley: there are no accidents in the Kingdom of Heaven. Things happen for a reason.

The next day I hitchhiked north to Reno.

[The film High Plains Drifter, starring Clint Eastwood, was made at Mono Lake near Lee Vining, California in 1973. Lee Vining is on U.S. 395 between June Lake and Bridgeport.]

[Originally published by]

High Plains Drifter (short story)
High Plains Drifter (1973)
Book Review:  High Plains Drifter
Clint Eastwood’s film High Plains Drifter (1973)
Sleeping at the Post Office in Bridgeport, California
Ricky Gervais’ Monologue – 2020 Golden Globes
Ricky Gervais BACKLASH Exposes The Media’s Leftist Bias


Clint Eastwood’s film High Plains Drifter (1973)


The first time I saw High Plains Drifter was probably in the late 1970s. Clint Eastwood stars in and directs the film. Most westerns are either about cattle drives or cowboys and Indians. High Plains Drifter is different: this is a God’s-Judgment-on-the-wicked western.

Clint Eastwood plays a stranger who rides into the town of Lago–and he has a really bad attitude. This stranger is also very good with a side arm. During the course of the film, the stranger ends up killing some bad guys and burning the town of Lago to the ground. There are a couple of flashbacks of one Marshal Jim Duncan being whipped to death.  At the end of the film, the audience can see that the stranger was the Second Coming of Marshal Duncan:

The stranger rides out of the town of Lago past the cemetery. This little guy named Mordecai is writing something on a grave marker. 

The stranger looks at Mordecai and Mordecai looks up and says, “I’m almost done here.”

Then Mordecai asks the stranger, “I never did know your name.”

And the stranger replies, “Yes, you do.”

As the stranger rides off, the camera shows the grave marker: “Marshal Jim Duncan.”

There is a lot of sin (unrepented sin) in the United States and in the world. When people continue to live in sin, eventually God’s Judgment falls. The more people try to hide their sin, the greater God’s Judgment. The people of Lago tried to hide the murder of Marshal Duncan, but their sin was found out. You can’t hide from God.

There is a scene in High Plains Drifter where this lady tells the stranger, “Ever since Marshal Duncan’s death, the people in this town are afraid of strangers.”


“When the Stranger says: ‘What is the meaning of this city?
Do you huddle close together because you love each other?’
What will you answer? ‘We all dwell together
To make money from each other’? or ‘This is a community’?

“Oh my soul, be prepared for the coming of the Stranger.
Be prepared for him who knows how to ask questions.

“There is one who remembers the way to your door:
Life you may evade, but Death you shall not.
You shall not deny the Stranger.”

–T.S. Eliot
Choruses from “The Rock”


There is another scene in High Plains Drifter where the people of Lago are meeting at the church. One of the guys is speaking in the front of the church. The camera then pans to the right and shows a bulletin board with this Scripture:

Isaiah 53: 3-4: “Surely he hath borne our griefs, and carried our sorrows: yet we did esteem him stricken, smitten of God, and afflicted. But he was wounded for our transgressions, he was bruised for our iniquities: the chastisement of our peace was upon him; and with his stripes we are healed.”


The Days of Vengeance

Marshal Jim Duncan was whipped to death; Jesus Christ was at least nine-tenths whipped to death. The stranger riding into Lago (the first scene of the film) is a symbol of the Second Coming of Jesus Christ: not as the Lamb of God, but as the Lion of the Tribe of Judah.

Isaiah 63: 1-6: “Who is this that cometh from Edom, with dyed garments from Bozrah? this that is glorious in his apparel, travelling in the greatness of his strength? I that speak in righteousness, mighty to save. Wherefore art thou red in thine apparel, and thy garments like him that treadeth in the winefat? I have trodden the winepress alone; and of the people there was none with me: for I will tread them in mine anger, and trample them in my fury; and their blood shall be sprinkled upon my garments, and I will stain all my raiment. For the day of vengeance is in mine heart, and the year of my redeemed is come. And I looked, and there was none to help; and I wondered that there was none to uphold: therefore mine own arm brought salvation unto me; and my fury, it upheld me. And I will tread down the people in mine anger, and make them drunk in my fury, and I will bring down their strength to the earth.”

Luke 21: 22:  “For these be the days of vengeance, that all things which are written may be fulfilled.”

High Plains Drifter (the film)
The Killer Angels
High Plains Drifter (short story)
The Second Coming
High Plains Drifter (1973)
Book Review:  High Plains Drifter
A Conversation with a Vietnam Veteran
High Plains Drifter as Social Commentary
Meeting a Former Editor from Warner Brothers

Guided by the Thumb   3 comments

[Updated September 20, 2012]

By Bridget Ryder

“If you don’t have patience, don’t hitchhike,” Tim Shey said.

He’s speaking from his experience of using the mode of travel for sixteen years and his ventures have brought him through Teton Valley on more than one occasion. He’s slept in junk cars in Victor and grassy spots in Driggs, sheet rocked a house in Tetonia, and volunteered for Habitat for Humanity.

His roaming follows inspiration, providence, and the compass of circumstance.

“I just knew God inspired me to hit the road,” he explained.

He felt the nudge in 1996 but he never thought he would still be standing with his thumb out on the highway 16 years and two books later.

Shey, a native of Iowa, started hitchhiking in Ireland and parts of the United Kingdom in the early 1980s. In 1995, he finished his degree in English at the Iowa State University and then hitched his way through the Western US. In between, he worked in the lumber and construction businesses and then hit the road for a solid nine months in 1999. During that hitching stint, a lady at a gas station in Texas asked him when she would get to read his book. She wasn’t the first to ask. When he returned to Iowa, he wrote 200 pages in ten days.

“I just wanted to get it done,” he said.

Over the years and between his travels, Shey touched up the manuscript and it appeared online and in CD form until Publish America put out the bound pages of High Plains Drifter. He stopped wondering why he got a degree in English.

“I guess all those English papers were good practice,” he said.

But the heart of his story is his Christian faith. As he travels, he both shares what he believes and lives it.

“It’s an act of faith, you can’t plan it like this,” he said.

The connections, reconnections, and happenstances he experiences lay beyond his control. A ride can lead to a conversation, a job or a friend, places he has returned to work or visit such as a cow-calf operation in California or the home of friends in Teton Valley.

He formed a strong connection with Jeremy Aughenbaugh of Jackson, Wyo in 2003 when one of Aughenbaugh’s roommates gave Shey a ride from Dubois, Wyo. They then  invited the hitchhiker to stay with them for a few days. The two bonded through their common Christian faith and Shey has consistently returned to visit his friend since.

“He definitely wasn’t what I expected a hitchhiker to look like,” Aughenbaugh said. ”[He’s] clean cut, he seemed like he was on a mission.”

Aughenbaugh doesn’t put Shey in the category of a wander beaten down by life trying to figure out where to go. He has a purpose.

“His life is a sermon,” Aughenbaugh said.

Shey predicates, according to Aughenbaugh by getting into chance conversations in his travels and letting people “on the perfect timing” that he attributes to the action of God. Take Saturday for instance. Shey had been trying to head south out, but met with little luck, a calm inner movement told him to try the other way.  He quickly caught a north-bound ride and found himself where help was needed—helping Aughenbaugh build a Habitat for Humanity house.

“If I run into a brick wall, I say I’m going in another direction,” Shey said. “I hitchhike by faith. God protects me.”

In all his years of accepting the help of strangers and doing what popular opinion considers a good way to get killed, he has only felt endangered once.

On his way through New Mexico, Shey picked up a ride from two men. The trip ended at the trailer park where they lived. Outside the car, Shey continued his conversation with the driver, Apache. While they talked, Shey could see the other man flanking him. Then he pulled out a knife and lunged toward the hitchhiker. Shey jumped back.

“What are you guys trying to do rob me?” he said.

Apache called his friend an idiot and told him to put the knife away.

“That was the only time somebody pulled a knife on me and it was not that big of a deal,” Shey said.

Apache sent Shey on his way with a fist full of cash and even his blundering attacker gave him a dollar as he left.

On the other hand, he has also been offered a ride with the stipulation “sir, if you don’t kill me.”

“I think I‘m on the road to redeem the image of the hitchhiker,” he said.

According to Shey it’s five times more likely for the hitchhiker to be killed than for someone bumming a ride to be the murder.

He admits to getting tired of hitchhiking, but for feels that for now it’s his calling.

And if you’re driving, don’t miss the opportunity to give Shey a ride. He might write you into his next book.

The Victor library carries Shey’s first collection of recollections as well as his more recently published volume of tales, The First Time I Rode a Freight Train and Other Hitchhiking Stories.

Follow Shey on his blog or read his whole story at the Victor library.

Teton Valley News [Driggs, Idaho]
Copright 2012 Teton Valley News

[The title of the article in the print issue was “Following the Compass of Circumstance”]

Teton Valley News
Eastern Idaho and Oswald Chambers


centennial2 resized

Tetonia, Idaho

The powerful play goes on
By David Stein
Teton Valley News
July 21, 2016


“Last night, LaPriel and I were driving home. We were just outside Newdale, Idaho about 25 miles from our farm, when we passed a hitchhiker.

“I only caught a glimpse of him as we were driving by at 65 miles per hour. He appeared to be fiftyish, clean shaven and standing with a large hiker’s backpack.

“I slowed and asked LaPriel if we should pick him up. She didn’t say no.

“I rarely pick up hitchhikers. More often in Mexico than in the U.S.

“My son and I had once stood hitchhiking with our backpacks outside Gardiner, Montana after finishing a three-day hike through Yellowstone National Park. I had wrongly assumed there would be a taxi or shuttle service in Gardiner at the conclusion of our hike.

“Fortunately, a guy from Cincinnati stopped and drove us back to our car. He had recognized the Cincinnati Reds jacket my son was wearing and decided he should help.

“Perhaps it was that memory that prompted me to pick up this hitchhiker. I slowed and turned our car around and drove past the man with the backpack. We decided he looked safe so we turned around again and picked him up.

“His name is Tim Shey. He said he has been hitchhiking full time for twenty years. He earns money working side jobs: landscaping, construction, working on farms.

“When he is close to running out of money, he buys a loaf of bread and starts looking for work. No peanut butter. Just bread. He said he is sick of peanut butter.

“Tim doesn’t have a tent. Just two sleeping bags. He sleeps in places where he won’t be bothered. He said he travels full time so he can share his Christian faith.

“I asked him what has changed about hitchhiking in the past twenty years. ‘For me, nothing,’ he said, ‘but, there are less people doing it.’

“‘How long does it take to get a ride?’ I asked.

“‘It depends,’ he said. ‘Sometimes five minutes. Sometimes and hour. If no one has stopped in an hour, I start walking.’

“He said when you are in your twenties, there is no better way to figure out what you want to do with your life then by hitchhiking across the country. Especially because of the random people you meet, and you see what they are doing for a living and how they like it.

“We dropped Tim at the gas station in Tetonia. He planned to stay at the city park and hitchhike to Jackson, Wyoming the next day.”

Teton Valley News

The Exorcism of Emily Rose   4 comments

[13 July 2010]

Last night I watched this movie at my friends’ house: The Exorcism of Emily Rose (2005). I believe the Lord wanted me to see this movie. When it came to describing and showing demon possession, The Exorcism of Emily Rose was right on target.

I have never been demon-possessed, but I have been demon-oppressed. I believe the Greek word is demonozanai (spelling incorrect?) which means a part of the personality is demonized (this is not the same thing as demon possession).

I was first attacked by a demon in my sleep (the devil loves to attack people at night when they are at their weakest while they are sleeping) when I was in the third grade. I woke up and found myself paralyzed–it was very hard to breathe. Then I saw these two beedy, evil eyes looking at me. I don’t know how long I was paralyzed, but finally the evil presence left my bedroom and I was able to get out of bed. It really scared the hell out of me. I then left my bedroom and walked to the bathroom and turned on the light. I believe it was around 4 A.M.

The next time I was attacked by a demon was when I dropped out of high school in May of 1977—I was a junior; I was seventeen. I was sleeping in my pickup near these railroad tracks in Ames, Iowa and this evil presence paralyzed my body. When you are paralyzed, you usually start choking because it is very hard to breathe.

At the age of seventeen, I was an atheist, so I didn’t know how to pray against these demonic attacks. At the age of eighteen, I began to pray to God again. At the age of twenty-two, I asked Christ into my life—which definitely changed my life for the better.

Between the age of seventeen and twenty-two, I was attacked by demons a number of times in my sleep. After I became a Christian, the attacks continued till the age of twenty-six. At the age of twenty-six, something very significant in my spiritual education happened: all day long there was this evil presence oppressing me–it felt like a thick, heavy blanket of darkness wrapped around my head. I got so frustrated and angry I cried out, “In the Name of Jesus Christ, begone Satan!” And the evil presence left me. It was such a relief.

A few years later, I discovered that the Blood of Jesus is more powerful than the Name of Jesus. Whenever I felt a demonic attack, I would say, “Blood of Jesus” or “I plead the Blood of Jesus” and the demon would leave quicker than if I had said “In the Name of Jesus.” As we all know, it is the Blood of Jesus that cleanses us from sin. Satan hates and fears the Blood of Jesus.

As I have gotten stronger and deeper in Christ, the attacks have decreased over the years. I still get attacked once in a while because I am still obeying the Lord and disrupting certain aspects of Satan’s kingdom through my life of intercession.

The scene in the movie where Emily Rose was in bed and this demon crushes her into the mattress and paralyzes her—this is absolutely true. This happened to me once back in December of 2008 (somewhere around December 8th). I was hitchhiking in Idaho and found a camper at this industrial park to sleep in. I laid my sleeping bag on this mattress and went to sleep. Later that night, this powerful evil presence filled the camper and the weight of the demon crushed my body into the mattress. I could feel my body being pressed deeper into the mattress. I thought my legs and hips were going to be broken. Eventually the demon left the camper. This demon could have been a principality, a power or Satan himself.

A week later, I found out that my book High Plains Drifter: A Hitchhiking Journey Across America was published. It was published close to the day that my body was crushed by that demon. I knew then that Satan hated the fact that my book was published. The theme of High Plains Drifter is obedience to the Lord—this is how we defeat Satan in our daily lives. Obedience, obedience, obedience. “Obedience is better than sacrifice.”

It is also interesting that in late September of 2008, I was sleeping in my tent somewhere south of Lolo, Montana and it felt like a deer had jumped onto my tent and landed on my ribcage. It was very painful. I thought for sure that my ribs were broken. I woke up the next morning and felt my ribcage, but no bones were broken. Two days later, I was in Dillon, Montana and I was checking my email at the library and PublishAmerica had just notified me that they wanted to publish High Plains Drifter. Again, Satan hates High Plains Drifter and hates my life of intercession.

In the movie The Exorcism of Emily Rose, the priest would say the Rosary when confronting the demons in Emily Rose. This is absolutely useless. All you need to do, is to use the Name of Jesus and say, “In the Name of Jesus, come out of her, Satan!” Also you need to be a mature Christian—this is not for novices. The Rosary is not Christian—it is Catholic. “There is one mediator between God and men, the man Christ Jesus.” Mary is not a mediator. The Catholic Church describes Mary as “co-mediatrix”, but this is not Christian.

People need to read and meditate on the Book of Hebrews in the New Testament:  the Lord Jesus Christ is far superior to angels, and the blood of bulls and goats. Jesus Christ is the Lamb of God, not the Lamb of Man. Our Heavenly Father sacrificed Jesus at Calvary for the sin of the world. Faith in the Finished Work of the Cross has absolute authority over Satan. And if you are Baptized in the Holy Ghost you have added power over Satan. Jesus came to set the captives free.

Obedience: The Bondage Breaker
My Testimony
How To Remove Demons From Ourselves And Others
Classic Demon Possession
Levels of Spiritual Warfare
The Exorcist:  “An Argument for God”

A Review for The Hitcher: Ignorance Springs Eternal   2 comments

The following paragraph is the height of ignorance when it comes to hitchhiking; whoever wrote it probably has never hitchhiked a day in his life:

“There was a time when you could pick up a hitchhiker off the side of the road and not have to worry about them slicing you up. Those days have passed, though, as we can see in The Hitcher. If ever there was a public service announcement for not picking up random people off the side of the road, this is it.”

The preceding paragraph was taken from a blog that reviewed the film The Hitcher.  Here is the blog:

The Hitcher


I have been hitchhiking all over the United States for most of 16 years.  I have met many great people on the road.  You can live by fear and let Hollywood dictate your values or else you can put your trust in the Lord Jesus Christ, live by faith and live life to the fullest.  Faith is the opposite of fear.  Fear ALWAYS kills initiative, or maybe I should say, Fear kills.  There is way too much fear in people in the United States.  People need to seek the Kingdom of Heaven first.

Proverbs 29: 25:  “The fear of man bringeth a snare: but whoso putteth his trust in the LORD shall be safe.”

High Plains Drifter:  A Hitchhiking Journey Across America

A Ride in Nebraska, Blue Highways and William Least Heat-Moon   6 comments

Dreams from the LORD 2007-2010
22 May 2008

Yesterday, I was somewhere between Bridgeport and Alliance, Nebraska when this car pulled over to pick me up. There were three guys in the car; I got in the back seat. As we started to drive down the road, the guy next to me asked, “Aren’t you from Ames, Iowa?”

I looked at him with a surprised look and said, “Yeah. How did you know that?”

He said, “I picked you up hitchhiking a few years ago and gave you a ride to Alliance. You made a photocopy of your book [High Plains Drifter] and gave it to me.”

I was stunned. We shook hands and then he said, “My name is Harold. I read your book and really enjoyed it. I passed it around to some friends of mine.”

It’s a small world. I remember making a photocopy of High Plains Drifter in Alliance for somebody, but I think it was more than a few years ago. I told Harold that he probably picked me up in 2001 or 2002.

So they drove me to Alliance and took me out to eat at a Mexican restaurant. The guy who was driving was Doug. Doug owned a junkyard nine miles from town; he let me and Harold stay at his place last night and Harold bought me breakfast this morning.

While we were eating breakfast, Harold told me that he was hitchhiking in Missouri back in the 1970s and William Least Heat-Moon picked him up and gave him a ride to Iowa. William Least Heat-Moon later wrote the book Blue Highways. I believe Blue Highways was a bestseller in the early 1980s. While I was living in Venice, California in the spring of 1984, I read Blue Highways and thought it was a very good book. I wrote William Least Heat-Moon a letter telling him how much I liked his book; he wrote me back, but I no longer have a copy of this letter.

Book Review:  High Plains Drifter
An American Pilgrim:  Some Reflections on High Plains Drifter
Days Without Writing