So I have seemed to be lucky recipient of many cross-country trips. About eight to date (that rhymed) by my count. Anyone who has driven cross-country has probably encountered what is par for the course. You drive, you pass people, maybe you get passed, and you stop and get gas and go potty (how cute). Wash, rinse, repeat as desired. Throw in a hotel stop along the way and it appears you have all the excitement of watching a ceiling fan go round and round. Watching ceiling fan blades go round is easy to do for the first few seconds but damn hard focusing in on that one fan blade for longer than that. Try it sometime. What follows is a roll up from my last trip across the great land of America a few years back. I was enroute from Alaska to Georgia, via Alabama, Arizona, and Utah. Yes in that order. Needless to say I covered some serious miles. Yes Alaska was a cold place. What can be lost in the mileage sometimes are the chance encounters with humanity. And when I speak of humanity, of course I mean the stupid ones. Not you though reader, I don’t think you’re stupid.
To give you all a quick rundown of some of the details, I owned and still own a Chevy Blazer that I drove for this trip. I got a wild hair and decided to Rhinoline the entire thing. Yeah that spray on bed-liner you put in the bed of pickups, I did my entire Blazer in that. Novel idea huh? Clean up is a breeze and there isn’t a shopping cart in any given supermarket that doesn’t fear me pulling in the parking lot. The below excerpts a story that starts after departing Salt Lake City, Utah on my way to the heartland. And by heartland I mean the great state of Georgia. Go Dawgs, sic’ em! I apologize in advance if I have mis-represented any of your favorite states because they aren’t as cool as Georgia and lack sweet tea on their menus, I know all the evolved beings in those states must live nowhere near the Interstates.
Enjoy the ride (notes as I wrote them down):DAY 1 - Today has been an interesting day in the life of me. So I would like to share. Because I was taught in 1st grade that sharing is good. Indeed, I lost my paste bottle back then to some whiney kid who said I wasn't sharing and eating it all, but the end result through my own tears is that sharing hurts, but for some reason, it must continue with or without my bottle of paste. So I hit the road this morning from Salt Lake City after staying with friends in Salt Lake for the last week. Great stay, many good memories, Ed much like Salt Lake City. So it's raining this morning as I leave. A little cold, 39 degrees I think. Not Alaska-cold by any means (much props to my tundra friends) but cold enough. I stop at the gas station, fill up, and set off on my fantastic voyage, sans Coolio. About five minutes after hitting I-80 East, I discover that the snow fairy has sprinkled magic f-you dust on the road ahead. (great pic of it huh?)
(Actual Cell Phone Photo! NO WAY!)
I am not pleased...the weather gets worse. 60 minutes elapse and I have traveled an astounding 25 miles. For those of you who can do the math and convert it to MPH, it equals = slow. I have time now to really appreciate the fun of being played like a pinball by all the 18-wheelers in the world. It appears that once you have 18 wheels on your vehicle, weather effects are null on your vehicle. Alas I only have four wheels so I am screwed and they can keep on truckin’ around me as if I wasn't there. I begin to notice that I am indeed the only non-18 wheeler on the road. I feel comfortable because I can hold my own in the snowstorm. Now you know. Visibility is about at my front bumper and I am loving life. I approach and see an old-school Thunderbird that had swerved off the road and hit an embankment. The driver must have been ok as he was facing his car from the road with his arms crossed. Brain damage, maybe, as he was standing out in the cold and wind just looking at his vehicle, pondering. Before I pass him he turns around and waives his arms at me. To demonstrate how highly intelligent I am (and so in love with myself apparently), in that one split second my mind processes a multitude of thoughts, an almost Pavlovian response of brilliance:
Thought 1 - Dude you're screwed.
Thought 2 - It appears that he thinks flailing his arms will aid my vehicle stopping rapidly on ice so I can pick him up.
Thought 3 - Bad karma man, what if I don't stop?
Thought 4 - Screw karma, if I slow down at all I may the next guy flailing my arms.
Thought 5 - Dude you're screwed.
Ok so I took care of that and continued on. What? Oh I’m sorry, he who hath not helped every distressed motorist cast the first stone. Now the next five hours of driving resembled much of the first hour. It would clear up a bit in spots but no love for the duration.
(yes I was listening to Yellowcard. Crazy windshield wipers huh?)
This is a good time to tell you of the many great conversations I had at each gas station:
"Hey nice paint job, is that scratch and sniff?"
RE: "No, please leave me alone and never re-produce"
"Can I touch your Blazer?"
RE: "That'll be $2"
Ok, so not great conversation but I promise it gets better. Now it appears somewhere beyond the border of Utah, there is a magical place. A place where dreams come true. This place is called Wyoming (Why-Oh-Ming, that's right now say it with me, Why-Oh-Ming). I have driven through this place Wyoming before but somehow had forgotten just how magical of a place this is. To compare, Buzz Aldrin must have spent days or weeks here to get a good feeling of how being on the Moon would be or maybe the Native Americans tried to warn us by naming the area Wyoming which roughly translates in English to, "Land of the Suck". Fantastic.
So as I drive down this Yellow Brick Road called I-80 East, into the promise land, I am met with gale force winds backed up by highway signs that say, "High Winds Possible"…thanks for the update Kreskin. Now, these aren't cool breezes on a nice spring day. They cut and run through you much like a Cheesy Double Beef Burrito from Taco Bell. My Blazer sways back and forth as if dancing to the music on my stereo. How nice. Snow, ice, no visibility, and now wind. I was expecting a Tsunami shortly there after but it was environmentally eliminated from contention. Sheer torture on me, if you have ever ridden in my Blazer, you would know that it handles like a covered wagon (due to the after-market lift I put on it) and the only kindness it shows is that fact that it has endured. Endured 13,000 miles over the last five months (I made some long stops along the way in Alabama and Arizona). The odometer now reads 120,000 miles. When I got to Alaska three years ago, I had just hit 100,000 miles. Again, for the math whizzes, well you can figure it out. If you can’t don’t worry it isn’t as significant as I first thought.
So anyway, back to magic land. The Land of the Suck apparently has exacted revenge on the 18-wheeler mafia. I glance into the westbound I-80 traffic to see a completely overturned semi, laying lengthwise, blocking both lanes of traffic. I could be next. I mean if an 18-wheeler can be done in, I am a sure goner. So I pull off to the next gas station as I see that the accident had been stale for about five minutes and emergency vehicles started to arrive and help (I did not have any thoughts as I did for the Thunderbird dude, sorry to let you down). At the gas station, a trucker mentions the wreck to the cashier attendant, I had to translate for myself though, "Yeah, looks like old boy rolled 18 and laid a 9 back on 80 West a few miles back.” I was proud of myself cause I understood. Good job Ed. But, the gas station chick had an interesting reply. Oh and she was a world of a woman too. Looked like she had misunderstood the South Beach Diet and went on the South Beached Whale Diet. Please hold your applause, thank you, no, thank you. A whole lotta loving indeed. But the best part is when she says, "Well those damn truckers need to slow the hell down and that kinda crap won't happen.” While I sort of agreed to myself silently as I held my Mountain Dew awaiting purchase it, the other trucker there did not agree. The argument that ensued after that had all the meaning and impact equaling the earth-shattering decision of what side to butter your toast in the morning. Exactly. I laid $2 down and left.
My next stop was Cheyenne. So here I am at a hotel in Cheyenne. Funny enough, the check in clerk was named Anne. I asked her if she was shy. She looked at me with the kind of glare that dogs possess as they try to decipher the words you are telling them.
I got my room key and went down for the night. I have nothing funny to say at this point.
DAY 2 - What's the best thing that has ever come out of Wyoming? That's right baby, Interstate 80. Well glory from the roads of America is there for the taking, but usually you will have better things to do in your lives than drive cross-country. Day 2 of travel was much better as far as the weather goes. It was only cold and windy but pretty much "safe". Of course no 700 miles trekked across the USA can go without something interesting happening. Apparently, the police (no I have nothing against the police, man you guys need to lighten up) have given up on lowering the murder rate, catching drug dealers, or chasing down kids who attempt to stick their tongues to frozen flagpoles. No, indeed they have re-focused their force structure in an operational swarm to pull me over. Not once but twice today, within an hour of each other. I wasn't speeding in either case. Luckily, I did not get a ticket either time. The conversations were pretty friendly actually. Friendly cops are nice aren’t they? But I really didn't care at the moment why the officer wanted to know why I would Rhinoline my Blazer and how much it costs (I think it cost about $2800, see I don’t mind sharing with you reader). Nor did I care for them asking me if it is REAL cold in Alaska, I guess my Alaska plates gave me away. My first instinct was to reply, "REAL Cold? As in GENUINE cold? As in, is the cold actually cold for real? Oh I'm sorry, you meant REALLY cold. Why don't you REALLY leave me alone for REAL.” On a side note, I realize that I am a prick to a certain extent. But only because I choose to tolerate who I wish. Try it sometime, you won’t regret it. If you do and it doesn’t work out, you shouldn’t have listened to me in the first place. So yeah the police interaction was entertaining at least. I was more pissed that all the people I had passed on the road before I was pulled over were now passing me. "Look George, it's that young man with the 'I Brake for Monster Booty' bumper sticker. Serves him right getting pulled over, now let’s drive really slow in the left hand lane George." Now here is where I would like to petition for a digital scrolling sign on my vehicle or all vehicles. You can update the message using a simple keypad/touchpad and it would blink and scroll where all drivers could see it. Mine would say, "I didn't get a ticket assmaster, but if you would like to pull into the next gas station and frown and point some more we can settle this face to face so you aren't hiding away in the safety bubble you call your car where you believe you are impervious to all harm, danger, or reality.” Of course, that would take a lot of typing. Maybe a simple message like, "I hate you" would suffice.
Speaking of gas stations, those are my only contact with the human folk while on the road. Yes, I see people while driving but it's like watching snow globes orbit around you. Each with their own ecosystem, climate, and habitat. I am really concerned with some of the drivers as they seem seconds away from epileptic seizures or heart attacks. So much anger out there on the roadways. I am not sure what is going on in some cars, but it appears that mixing it with driving seems to be the wrong answer. Where was I? Oh yeah, gas stations. I walk into the gas station to get a Mountain Dew and piss. I pissed first, for the curious. I was ecstatic because they had the orange Mountain Dew. I like the orange Mountain Dew and can't ever seem to find it. I also liked Clear Pepsi. Maybe the problem is with me. Anyhow, I walk up to the counter and see two women clerks there. One was bent over facing away from me as I approach the counter. I was the unfortunate witness of what is now recorded as the first Sasquatch sighting in Nebraska. An amazing view of this chick's hairy (oh God, I am having a relapse) ass crack was all for me and my innocent and un-anticipating eyes as I only wanted to make a simple transaction for a soda pop. At this juncture, you forget about the happier things in life like being at Bar A, Bar B, or Bar C.
So, she gets up (the other chick there was lost in space I guess) and rings me up for the soda. By this time I was shaking in fear that I would either be consumed by the Yetti or worse captured by her and forced to perform unspeakable acts involving a paint shaker and a diesel-powered ass-hammer. The other chick finally shows sign of carbon-based life and says, "I think this is like the best song ever!" Now she wasn't saying this at any one person, as there was only the three of us in the store (oh the possibilities, right?). She kinda looked at me as if I was gonna approve of her friggin’ once-in-a-lifetime revelation. Thing is, this "best song ever" was some crap on the radio with some American Idol reject chick singing about shit nobody cares about. And by nobody, I mean me. Not only that, the beat sucked and her singing sounded like the whine you get from a lawn mower when you get something caught up under it, like, a litter of kittens. Meow.
.....So without hesitation (please refer to Pavlovian response comment involving Thunderbird dude from Day 1) I replied, "I am sure Led Zeppelin would argue that comment". I got a nasty look back from her because for some ungodly reason I didn't agree with her roodie-poo ass (roodie-poo: adj, “having the qualities or properties of roodie-pooness”). But if I wasn't scarred enough from the Sasquatch encounter, she replied, "Who the hell is Led Zeppelin?" Now ladies and gentlemen what I would like to confide in you is that I showed unparalleled restraint saying nothing in retort and calmly walking out the door back towards my Blazer. Said actions by me would be lauded by the Nobel Peace Prize Committee, Kofi Annan, and the rest of the United Nations. So yes, again, not much to speak of from the road today. Nebraska is almost 100% under construction and constantly reminded me that speeding fines would be doubled if I dare sped around orange colored objects and unearthed dirt with no workers near any of it. I hold each and everyone of you responsible though. Yes you. Because I cannot go a single sports game on TV without John Cougar Mellencamp telling me in a Chevy commercial that "this is OUR country". (remember how annoying those commericals were?) We, and to a more significant degree, you are all to blame for letting people like this out of their cages and padded cells. Ok well for the sane people left in the country, which is the majority of the people reading this (see reader, I’m not all that mean to you, am I?) I just want you to know this stuff is out there in OUR country. Beware.
DAY 3 - I woke up to my last day on the road to a nice shitty hotel continental breakfast. I was almost finished eating when the only other dude up at 5:30am walked in for breakfast. He was older guy and came in and he seemed a little bothered. When I say bothered, I mean the feeling you get when you run out of toilet paper in a public bathroom and end up having to "deal" with what is left. I said good morning and he was quick to reply that indeed it was morning but there was nothing good about it. I guess this is what I have to look forward to when I get that age. Anyhow, he started talking about his better half. Now I was ready to leave but for some reason couldn't resist being his sounding board this morning. He had the look in his eye that he was ready to leave her in the hotel room after pouring hot coffee on her in bed and escaping the place. Whatever had occurred between them had spun his life into certain peril, the peril only known by bungee jumpers launching off a 200-foot cliff with a 201-foot cord. While I would have loved to see him stew and prod him to bring him to the brink of collapse, I had to go. As I left, I saw him grab a plastic knife and shove it in his pocket. Of course, he also had some butter and a bagel, but I knew that those were just covers to alibi his murder weapon.
So hitting the road I noticed that indeed, if you are over 65 and wish to drive on the Interstate, you must own a Buick. Nothing against Buicks, I am sure they are great vehicles, just an observation. I began to wonder if I someday would fall victim to growing old and driving a Buick. Such petty fears consume me, I know. So I stop into a gas station, the social highlights of my day, and I am mean-mugged by this 12 year old kid. Well he looked 12 I guess. He is just staring at me in my Blazer looking like he had just eaten a frown-sandwich. His dad looked like he had been mulling over the fact for the past 12 years that indeed instead of having a son, he should have shot that load into a towel and moved onto greater things. He will be driving a Buick someday I know it. As I felt no need to entertain the thought of talking to the kid, I just minded my own business, paid for my gas, wondered who really buys the fruit in those baskets at a gas station, and was on my way. No big deal. While back on the road, I had the pleasure to witness a great road argument. Dude and his girl coasting in their Ford Probe, (stylish huh?) and this chick is throwing shit inside the car, yelling and screaming at the dude. The dude was on autopilot though. Absorbing it and bubbling up inside. She might have well as been Forrest Gump offering Lieutenant Dan ice cream. "Ice Cream Lieutenant Dan!" The guy wasn't having any of it. I had to finally pull forward of them on the Interstate because I was certain her car door would open and she would be barrel-rolling out of it shortly. I did check my rear-view mirror as I pulled away in eager anticipation of her exodus. No dice. Drats. End of my story there. Yeah that was about it, a few days on the road. Exciting? Well reader you are the judge of that. I can venture to say to some extent we have all had similar experiences on the road such as mine. Now you may have thought to yourself, “am I alone, am I the only person who is seeing this when I drive?” Of course not, I am here to tell you that you are more normal than you think you are. Stop doubting yourself tiger, you’re gonna be just fine and if you think that whole digital scrolling sign in the car idea is a good one, raise your hand. The first one out the door to patent the idea can have it. I cannot be bothered with such a task currently.
Yup that wrapped it up. Hope you enjoyed my story....and back by popular demand...Pork Chop McFattington!
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