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  An 18 year old girl leaves home in search of something meaningful. Soon she meets other kids on a similar journey. They look different than her friends back home. They're driving a VW van held together by safety pins and running on one cylinder. They smell different too - a combination of patchouli oil, incense and marijuana. They wear clothes they've made out of patchwork corduroy and have let their hair matte into dreadlocks like Bob Marley's. They talk all about the things she's left home to find - the freedom of the road, the freedom from materialism and oppressive authority. They want to change the world, save the rain forest and legalize marijuana. It all sounds so noble. She wants in.

She's somehow able to overlook the needle marks that run up and down their arms, the fact that they've spent months or even years of their young lives in jail, and that none of the things they dream of seem to be realized.

Time goes by and a hopeless apathy begins to sweep over her. She doesn't see any peace in her own life or her friend's. She loses vision. She's strung out on heroin. She's sick of the streets.
Sick of the whole trip. She's 19 and tired of life.

She's ready to meet Jesus.