September 3, 2005; Saturday; 6:26pm; Leaving Ft. Worth, Texas
We are just now leaving Fort Worth after Shay, a VW lover who posted his information on the internet for anyone who needed help, fixed our bus for us. I wouldn’t say that he helped us, because he pretty much did everything. Actually I should say that Tyler helped; Nailgun and I just sat in Shay’s backyard, played football with his 4 year-old son, and napped. Shay and his wife are some of the nicest and most giving people we have ever met. They selflessly fed us lunch and fixed our ride, and didn’t ever seem irritated that a bunch of California kids who know nothing about cars would roll up and take over their Saturday.
We got to Shay’s house around 9:30am (Left Waco at 6:45 or so) and then Shay pulled the engine out.
September 4, 2005; Sunday; 11:47am; BACK IN WACO.
It may seem like the previous entry was cut a little short. This is because as I was writing it (15 minutes after we left Shay’s house), Tyler’s bus stopped working. We were on a huge interchange in Dallas, getting onto I-20 towards Mississippi.
We pushed Tyler’s bus backwards down the onramp and got it onto a side street where we spent the next few hours trying to get the engine to start. We had replaced the oil cooler at Shay’s, but when the engine was put back into the car, some wires were attached backwards. Consequently, when we tried to start the engine, some electrical components were fried. Shay, from the depths of his vast VW knowledge, managed to get the engine started again (adjusted the timing). But fifteen minutes after we left, the bus was in the worst position yet.
Nailgun had a free 100 mile tow from AAA, so we decided to have the bus towed back to Waco, where at least we could stay at Dana’s house again (sorry Dana’s roommate!). But we quickly became aware of yet another obstacle in our never ending quest to taste the Atlantic Ocean: Only two people were allowed to ride in the tow truck. Naturally, I was chosen to hide out in the back of the bus when the tow truck drive came, so that Tim and Tyler could ride with him. I laid down underneath a sleeping bag with tons of stuff on top of it. This would maybe sound like some kind of really fun slumber party, but let me assure you, when it is still 90 degrees out and it is so humid you can go fishing in the air, laying down under a sleeping bag is no fun. So I spent the next 20 minutes wallowing in my own sweat while the driver hooked up the bus. When we got on the road I was able to take the sleeping bag off, and I called a bunch of friends to pass the 2 hour drive by myself in the bus.
I wasn’t in the tow truck to talk to the driver, but Tyler and Nailgun quickly began telling me about how ridiculous he was. Tyler and Nailgun were pretty sure he was drunk (drinking a mysterious strong smelling and clear liquid out of a water bottle, and swerving all over the highway). The driver recounted to them how many times he had nearly lost a car off the back of the tow truck, and how he had only very recently learned how to correctly tie down the cars. Nailgun asked him “So, do you get out of Texas much?” to which the driver replied “Why?! Because I talk like a hillbilly?” Tyler and Nailgun quickly likened this driver to Boomhauer from the show “King of the Hill”, and could not easily understand most of what he was saying. I can confirm this from what I heard from under the sleeping bag.
So here we are, back in Waco, deciding what we should do next. We might try to fix it today and keep going (It is very uncertain what could break next in the bus), or wait until Tuesday for the mechanic shops to open (today is Sunday, and Monday is Labor Day) and then get it fixed. If we got it fixed on Tuesday, We would have to book it all the way to North Carolina and back in time for school to start, which may cause Tyler’s bus to catch on fire and also for us to lose so much sleep we would start secretly plotting each others’ ends. So we may end up driving back to California from here. The road trip may be a failure. Pray that the bus will be fixed, and that we can charge it straight into the Atlantic Ocean.
Monday, April 28, 2008
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
Sicktrip Journal VI
September 2, 2005; Friday; 10:34pm; Last night in Waco, TX
Tomorrow we will drive the bus away
To Fort Worth we will go to fix the leak.
A VW website had a list
Of people willing to help those in need.
Shay, a kind stranger, will pull the engine
And help us put the oil cooler in.
Then we will venture to Mississippi
We will no longer go to New Orleans
We want to find a southern Baptist church
Because we want to get down on Sunday
We will miss Texas and all our new friends
Except for humidity, which is bad.
Today was our last full day in Waco. We got to sleep in a little bit, then drove out to Crawford with Dana. In case you don’t know, that is where George W. Bush lives and where he does cool stuff like chop up logs with chainsaws and fall off his mountain bike. People are really proud of their town (population 800) because the Bushes live there (Today we learned that contrary to popular belief, Laura Bush, not Emily Dickinson, is America’s first sweetheart).We went rock jumping (into water) and then went into Crawford to go to the Bush store. Nowhere else on the planet can you find a place that sells all of the following: animal mounts of every kind, George Bush cardboard cutouts, Cowboy hats, T-shirts that say “Texas Women Love Dubya”, and hunting licenses (OK, I made that one up). It was unbelievable.
Tonight we went down to the local coffee shop, where all the cool hipster college kids hang out, to see a local band play. We skateboarded there, and I got to use Dana’s board. She warned us before, “Watch out…it bears to the left”. Naturally, I thought I could handle it, but quickly found out that Dana wasn’t joking. So in the course of 1 or 2 blocks, I ate asphalt twice. It is a good thing that I don’t know anyone here, or else my cool rating would plummet.
We walked into the coffee shop, skateboards in hand, and I went into the bathroom to wash the blood off my hands and arms. I didn’t lock the door, because I was only washing my hands. When I was almost done, a guy who looked like he had been trying way too hard to match his fashion with that of GQ magazine opened the door.
Texan Frat Boy: “Whoa! You didn’t lock the door! It’s a good thing you weren’t on the toilet!”
At this point, the guy stepped into the bathroom with me (single room) and closed the door behind him.
Californian youth brooding with discontent towards the system: “Yeah….I am just washing my elbow.” (I showed him my bloodied elbow)
Texan GQ Tool: “Whoa! How did you do that?!” (The whole time I am thinking, ‘Why didn’t this guy just wait for me to come outside instead of shutting himself in the bathroom with me!?’)
Californian desperate romantic: “I fell of my skateboard”
Texan bandit secretly waiting for the perfect chance to hit my right in the face: “Oh yeah!? What do y’all call them things? I’m from Ft. Worth, you know, we ride on 6x8’s” (He then showed me with his hands what a Ft. Worthian skateboard looks like: a rectangular plank of wood)
NOTE: From this point on, the story may or may not be completely true.
Californian bodybuilder: “I don’t know…but you are a filthy scoundrel.”
I then managed to jump on his shoulders, using my legs to fling his head straight into the john. After standing over him laughing and flushing the toilet over and over again, I ran out side of the bathroom, leaving my foe humiliated and defeated. Then I ran back and karate chopped him right in the foot.
Tomorrow we will drive the bus away
To Fort Worth we will go to fix the leak.
A VW website had a list
Of people willing to help those in need.
Shay, a kind stranger, will pull the engine
And help us put the oil cooler in.
Then we will venture to Mississippi
We will no longer go to New Orleans
We want to find a southern Baptist church
Because we want to get down on Sunday
We will miss Texas and all our new friends
Except for humidity, which is bad.
Today was our last full day in Waco. We got to sleep in a little bit, then drove out to Crawford with Dana. In case you don’t know, that is where George W. Bush lives and where he does cool stuff like chop up logs with chainsaws and fall off his mountain bike. People are really proud of their town (population 800) because the Bushes live there (Today we learned that contrary to popular belief, Laura Bush, not Emily Dickinson, is America’s first sweetheart).We went rock jumping (into water) and then went into Crawford to go to the Bush store. Nowhere else on the planet can you find a place that sells all of the following: animal mounts of every kind, George Bush cardboard cutouts, Cowboy hats, T-shirts that say “Texas Women Love Dubya”, and hunting licenses (OK, I made that one up). It was unbelievable.
Tonight we went down to the local coffee shop, where all the cool hipster college kids hang out, to see a local band play. We skateboarded there, and I got to use Dana’s board. She warned us before, “Watch out…it bears to the left”. Naturally, I thought I could handle it, but quickly found out that Dana wasn’t joking. So in the course of 1 or 2 blocks, I ate asphalt twice. It is a good thing that I don’t know anyone here, or else my cool rating would plummet.
We walked into the coffee shop, skateboards in hand, and I went into the bathroom to wash the blood off my hands and arms. I didn’t lock the door, because I was only washing my hands. When I was almost done, a guy who looked like he had been trying way too hard to match his fashion with that of GQ magazine opened the door.
Texan Frat Boy: “Whoa! You didn’t lock the door! It’s a good thing you weren’t on the toilet!”
At this point, the guy stepped into the bathroom with me (single room) and closed the door behind him.
Californian youth brooding with discontent towards the system: “Yeah….I am just washing my elbow.” (I showed him my bloodied elbow)
Texan GQ Tool: “Whoa! How did you do that?!” (The whole time I am thinking, ‘Why didn’t this guy just wait for me to come outside instead of shutting himself in the bathroom with me!?’)
Californian desperate romantic: “I fell of my skateboard”
Texan bandit secretly waiting for the perfect chance to hit my right in the face: “Oh yeah!? What do y’all call them things? I’m from Ft. Worth, you know, we ride on 6x8’s” (He then showed me with his hands what a Ft. Worthian skateboard looks like: a rectangular plank of wood)
NOTE: From this point on, the story may or may not be completely true.
Californian bodybuilder: “I don’t know…but you are a filthy scoundrel.”
I then managed to jump on his shoulders, using my legs to fling his head straight into the john. After standing over him laughing and flushing the toilet over and over again, I ran out side of the bathroom, leaving my foe humiliated and defeated. Then I ran back and karate chopped him right in the foot.
Monday, April 21, 2008
Sicktrip Journal V
September 1, 2005; Thursday; 5:08pm; In the Eden-like paradise of Waco
OK, we got a formula for ALL Y’ALL!
Hysterical loopiness: h(t, d) as a function of time elapsed, t, and distance traveled, d, where t is in seconds and d is in cubits:
h(t,d) = ((pi)*(t^2))/(d*(number of insects residing in Tyler’s dreadlocks))
So there you have it.
Today, we journeyed though the city of Waco in search of the perfect thrift store. Thrift stores here are a lot different because kids don’t go to them to wear “cool” clothing, so we have found a lot of “cool” clothing in them since people don’t buy them. We went to the C&A Bargain Store, which was basically a small house on a dirt lot packed to the ceiling in every room with the most random junk you could ever think of. We’re talking dozens and dozens of tile grouting tools, shampoo bottles, and records. Then we went to the “Barkin Basement: Fuzzy Friends” thrift store, which was actually a gigantic thrift warehouse. We went into the front part of the store, and were at first disappointed in the lack of selection. Then, as if he was discovering the lost civilization of Atlantis, Nailgun (Tim Davies) found the back door to the treasure trove of thrift: An old hangar-like building full of filthy second-hand lucre. Unlike the C&A Bargain Store, the fuzzy friends store had countless practical objects: kitchen sinks, empty door frames, organs and pianos, old school desks, and cowboy boots.
The highlight of our day, however, was our trek to the official Dr. Pepper museum. Dr. Pepper was invented in Waco in the late 1800’s, and we got to learn all about its conception, manufacture, and marketing. We sat with eyes wide and mouths agape as a robotic recreation of the inventor of Dr. Pepper told us about the history of the building. We bought some bottles of the original recipe of Dr. Pepper, made with real cane sugar, and it definitely has more sugar than regular Dr. Pepper (Nailgun got the jitters).
We also took a tour of the Baylor campus with Dana. We’ve decided that we are jealous of this campus, because the buildings look so cool. The libraries are huge, old, and extremely beautiful (I got yelled at for playing one of the pianos). It is an interesting contrast, because Waco is really not that nice of a city, but the Baylor campus is awesome.
Tomorrow is our last day in Texas. We will miss the countless fast food restaurants, pawn shops, and people who want to touch Tyler’s hair.
We have altered our route a little because of the hurricane, and won’t be going through New Orleans or any of the gulf coast anymore. We are planning on going to Jackson, Mississippi; Montgomery, Alabama; Savannah, Georgia; and Charleston, South Carolina. Then it is on to North Carolina for hoe down fun! Pray that we can make it back to California in a week.
P.S. We are now accepting gallons of gas in the mail. If you don’t want to mail the gas, and you feel called/led/suckered/guilt-tripped/induced, then you can send us money to my Paypal account
OK, we got a formula for ALL Y’ALL!
Hysterical loopiness: h(t, d) as a function of time elapsed, t, and distance traveled, d, where t is in seconds and d is in cubits:
h(t,d) = ((pi)*(t^2))/(d*(number of insects residing in Tyler’s dreadlocks))
So there you have it.
Today, we journeyed though the city of Waco in search of the perfect thrift store. Thrift stores here are a lot different because kids don’t go to them to wear “cool” clothing, so we have found a lot of “cool” clothing in them since people don’t buy them. We went to the C&A Bargain Store, which was basically a small house on a dirt lot packed to the ceiling in every room with the most random junk you could ever think of. We’re talking dozens and dozens of tile grouting tools, shampoo bottles, and records. Then we went to the “Barkin Basement: Fuzzy Friends” thrift store, which was actually a gigantic thrift warehouse. We went into the front part of the store, and were at first disappointed in the lack of selection. Then, as if he was discovering the lost civilization of Atlantis, Nailgun (Tim Davies) found the back door to the treasure trove of thrift: An old hangar-like building full of filthy second-hand lucre. Unlike the C&A Bargain Store, the fuzzy friends store had countless practical objects: kitchen sinks, empty door frames, organs and pianos, old school desks, and cowboy boots.
The highlight of our day, however, was our trek to the official Dr. Pepper museum. Dr. Pepper was invented in Waco in the late 1800’s, and we got to learn all about its conception, manufacture, and marketing. We sat with eyes wide and mouths agape as a robotic recreation of the inventor of Dr. Pepper told us about the history of the building. We bought some bottles of the original recipe of Dr. Pepper, made with real cane sugar, and it definitely has more sugar than regular Dr. Pepper (Nailgun got the jitters).
We also took a tour of the Baylor campus with Dana. We’ve decided that we are jealous of this campus, because the buildings look so cool. The libraries are huge, old, and extremely beautiful (I got yelled at for playing one of the pianos). It is an interesting contrast, because Waco is really not that nice of a city, but the Baylor campus is awesome.
Tomorrow is our last day in Texas. We will miss the countless fast food restaurants, pawn shops, and people who want to touch Tyler’s hair.
We have altered our route a little because of the hurricane, and won’t be going through New Orleans or any of the gulf coast anymore. We are planning on going to Jackson, Mississippi; Montgomery, Alabama; Savannah, Georgia; and Charleston, South Carolina. Then it is on to North Carolina for hoe down fun! Pray that we can make it back to California in a week.
P.S. We are now accepting gallons of gas in the mail. If you don’t want to mail the gas, and you feel called/led/suckered/guilt-tripped/induced, then you can send us money to my Paypal account
Friday, April 18, 2008
Sicktrip Journal IV
September 1, 2005; Wednesday; 12:12am; In Waco, TX
We arrived in Waco this morning and have spent the day either a.) complaining about the weather or b.) asking Dana, our gracious host for the next few days, to show us the crazy side of Waco, which means we want to see cowboys shooting each other or something like that. Dana goes to Baylor, which is a beautiful campus, and is maybe the only attractive part of Waco. So far, we can tell that people here are obsessed with high school football (we saw a highway billboard advertising Nike’s partnership with the local high school and we also drove by the high school’s stadium, and it is definitely way nicer and larger than Cal Poly’s). Since Waco is the birthplace of Dr. Pepper, we see lots of signs that say “We like our Dr. Pepper around here”. Tomorrow we are going to the Dr. Pepper museum with the eagerness of Mowgli the wolf child before a hunt. We are also going to go to the Texas Ranger (Chuck Norris…yes…) Museum.
We had the privilege (?) of going to a Wal-Mart Supercenter today. Somehow, there were hundreds of brand new bicycles hanging from the ceiling. This is incredible, in case you don’t know. Also, there were a few spots out front specifically set aside for “mothers of sick children”. I hated Wal-Mart before, but now I don’t know whether to fall down in sublimity-induced worship or to rally together the locals with pitchforks and torches in hand, demanding the death of the monster. Wal-Mart Supercenters are big, and by big, I mean you could probably land the space shuttle in them through the front doors.
Also, we went to a restaurant tonight and we couldn’t understand anything our server was saying because she said “y’all” after every other word. Here is an example (slight hyperbole):
Server: “Hey y’all, what can I get y’all’s for dinner tonight? Would y’all like some chips and queso?”
Me: “What?”
Server: “Y’all y’all y’all y’all y’all…Don’t Mess With Texas….y’all y’all y’all”
Me: “I will have the Dijon Chicken”
And when I ordered the Dijon Chicken I purposely pronounced it “Dye-John”, just for kicks.
We have noticed that as time goes on, more and more things become funnier and funnier, until we are pretty much laughing at almost everything anyone says. We are tired, and by tired, I mean that I am saying “…x, and by x, I mean…” too much. We will work on an algebraic formula for calculating hysterical loopiness, h(t,d), as time, t, goes on over a distance, d.
We arrived in Waco this morning and have spent the day either a.) complaining about the weather or b.) asking Dana, our gracious host for the next few days, to show us the crazy side of Waco, which means we want to see cowboys shooting each other or something like that. Dana goes to Baylor, which is a beautiful campus, and is maybe the only attractive part of Waco. So far, we can tell that people here are obsessed with high school football (we saw a highway billboard advertising Nike’s partnership with the local high school and we also drove by the high school’s stadium, and it is definitely way nicer and larger than Cal Poly’s). Since Waco is the birthplace of Dr. Pepper, we see lots of signs that say “We like our Dr. Pepper around here”. Tomorrow we are going to the Dr. Pepper museum with the eagerness of Mowgli the wolf child before a hunt. We are also going to go to the Texas Ranger (Chuck Norris…yes…) Museum.
We had the privilege (?) of going to a Wal-Mart Supercenter today. Somehow, there were hundreds of brand new bicycles hanging from the ceiling. This is incredible, in case you don’t know. Also, there were a few spots out front specifically set aside for “mothers of sick children”. I hated Wal-Mart before, but now I don’t know whether to fall down in sublimity-induced worship or to rally together the locals with pitchforks and torches in hand, demanding the death of the monster. Wal-Mart Supercenters are big, and by big, I mean you could probably land the space shuttle in them through the front doors.
Also, we went to a restaurant tonight and we couldn’t understand anything our server was saying because she said “y’all” after every other word. Here is an example (slight hyperbole):
Server: “Hey y’all, what can I get y’all’s for dinner tonight? Would y’all like some chips and queso?”
Me: “What?”
Server: “Y’all y’all y’all y’all y’all…Don’t Mess With Texas….y’all y’all y’all”
Me: “I will have the Dijon Chicken”
And when I ordered the Dijon Chicken I purposely pronounced it “Dye-John”, just for kicks.
We have noticed that as time goes on, more and more things become funnier and funnier, until we are pretty much laughing at almost everything anyone says. We are tired, and by tired, I mean that I am saying “…x, and by x, I mean…” too much. We will work on an algebraic formula for calculating hysterical loopiness, h(t,d), as time, t, goes on over a distance, d.
Thursday, April 17, 2008
Sicktrip Journal III
August 31, 2005; Tuesday; 8:11am; Departing Dallas, TX for Waco, TX
We have entered the Lone Star State, and wander aimlessly through it like sporadic hair on my unshaven face. We were pleasantly surprised to find that Texas is green and flat, as compared to the drabness of New Mexico.
We spent the night last night with our friend Jenni, and she showed us around Dallas. By showing us around Dallas, I mean that we drove all over the city looking for thrift stores in order to buy some Texan paraphernalia for friends back home. The way you know that a thrift store is good is if a.) No one speaks English, b.) There are bars on the windows, and/or c.) The thrift store has a section set aside for basketball jerseys. We got the underbelly treatment of Dallas, and it was unbelievable. My favorite items that I saw (but did not buy)? An orange hat that had “GIMME THE MONKEY” written on it with sharpie and a shirt that said “Texas Instruments: Ask me about the TI-10”
Jenni also showed us this enormous hotel in Grapevine (a suburb of Dallas where she lives) called the Gaylord Texan. Semi-comical name aside, the Gaylord is a convention center rivaling the stature of Mt. Everest, maybe. It is so elite, in fact, that we weren’t even allowed to park in the free 20 minute parking because the bellhop knew that we weren’t going to do anything of any monetary value for the Gaylord.
Nailgun (Tim Davies) likes that all the buildings are made of brick. In the absence of seismic activity, bricks become the fundamental building tool. Therefore, 1172 Atascadero Street will be retrofitted into a brick bastille of sorts. Nailgun says “Screw Plate Tectonics”. There may not be earthquakes, but we are hoping for some kind of crazy thunderstorm, tornado, or an angry Babe the Blue Ox.
We have decided to avoid New Orleans (duh), and we have about 5 days to get from Waco, TX to Savannah, GA. We are looking for suggestions on where to stop in between, so email me and let me know if there are any cool places from here to the east coast.
Also, if you know where any VW repair shops are, that would be helpful. Due to a leaky oil cooler, we are dropping oil all over Texas like paratroopers over Normandy.
We have entered the Lone Star State, and wander aimlessly through it like sporadic hair on my unshaven face. We were pleasantly surprised to find that Texas is green and flat, as compared to the drabness of New Mexico.
We spent the night last night with our friend Jenni, and she showed us around Dallas. By showing us around Dallas, I mean that we drove all over the city looking for thrift stores in order to buy some Texan paraphernalia for friends back home. The way you know that a thrift store is good is if a.) No one speaks English, b.) There are bars on the windows, and/or c.) The thrift store has a section set aside for basketball jerseys. We got the underbelly treatment of Dallas, and it was unbelievable. My favorite items that I saw (but did not buy)? An orange hat that had “GIMME THE MONKEY” written on it with sharpie and a shirt that said “Texas Instruments: Ask me about the TI-10”
Jenni also showed us this enormous hotel in Grapevine (a suburb of Dallas where she lives) called the Gaylord Texan. Semi-comical name aside, the Gaylord is a convention center rivaling the stature of Mt. Everest, maybe. It is so elite, in fact, that we weren’t even allowed to park in the free 20 minute parking because the bellhop knew that we weren’t going to do anything of any monetary value for the Gaylord.
Nailgun (Tim Davies) likes that all the buildings are made of brick. In the absence of seismic activity, bricks become the fundamental building tool. Therefore, 1172 Atascadero Street will be retrofitted into a brick bastille of sorts. Nailgun says “Screw Plate Tectonics”. There may not be earthquakes, but we are hoping for some kind of crazy thunderstorm, tornado, or an angry Babe the Blue Ox.
We have decided to avoid New Orleans (duh), and we have about 5 days to get from Waco, TX to Savannah, GA. We are looking for suggestions on where to stop in between, so email me and let me know if there are any cool places from here to the east coast.
Also, if you know where any VW repair shops are, that would be helpful. Due to a leaky oil cooler, we are dropping oil all over Texas like paratroopers over Normandy.
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
Sicktrip Journal II
August 29, 2005; Monday; 2:15pm; Leaving Gallup, New Mexico, just over the Arizona/New Mexico Border
We’ve come to the conclusion that our faithful bus is painfully slow. We are averaging about 50-55 mph, but the bus is doing well mechanically and has not overheated at all yet. We drove through the Navajo reservation; it is incredible how marketable everything Native American is. There are billboards everywhere advertising “Indian Stores” with “1000s of items made by 5th generation craftsmen”. We have also driven through at least 3 or 4 petrified forests, but they were more like “a few petrified stumps in the middle of the Arizona desert”. We stopped at a Mexican restaurant for lunch in Gallup, which as far as we can tell is just a long strip of cheap motels and gas stations along Route 66.
The first poem of the trip:
A Momentous Haiku
VW Bus,
You’re like an obese child
On a small snow sled.
August 30, 2005; Tuesday; 7:29am; Entering Wichita Falls, Texas, 120 miles northwest of Dallas.
Things we saw yesterday:
1. At least four or five “petrified forests” in Arizona and New Mexico. Each of these is more like 3 or 4 petrified tree stumps protruding from the desert landscape with a small shop built nearby. Even petrification can make money!
2. The world’s largest petrified tree, but I feel like this was a lie.
3. The world’s largest map of Route 66 (About 50 feet long painted on the side of yet another gift shop…I feel like we have been in the same gift shop over and over)
4. Giant plaster dinosaurs along I-40 in Arizona. The T-Rex was eating a Triceratops.
5. Countless “Indian stores” in New Mexico.
Our favorite road signs so far:
1. Holy Moses Wash (Apparently that’s what dried out creeks are called in Arizona)
2. Drink. Drive. Go to Jail.
3. Adopt a Highway sponsored by: ‘Mom, why do people litter?’
4. Gusty Winds May Exist.
We just drove through the night again. We stopped yesterday for lunch and to go to a couple of Indian casinos. Indian casinos are kind of depressing. All the dealers seem to hate their jobs, and the slot machines are populated by expressionless old people. And smoking is gross.
We are almost to Dallas, and hope to find some thrift stores so we can buy some Texan souvenirs for people. Most of all, we are looking for bull horns to put on the front of the bus. That would be menacing.
If one word could describe this trip so far, it would be this: UNBELIEVABLE.
We’ve come to the conclusion that our faithful bus is painfully slow. We are averaging about 50-55 mph, but the bus is doing well mechanically and has not overheated at all yet. We drove through the Navajo reservation; it is incredible how marketable everything Native American is. There are billboards everywhere advertising “Indian Stores” with “1000s of items made by 5th generation craftsmen”. We have also driven through at least 3 or 4 petrified forests, but they were more like “a few petrified stumps in the middle of the Arizona desert”. We stopped at a Mexican restaurant for lunch in Gallup, which as far as we can tell is just a long strip of cheap motels and gas stations along Route 66.
The first poem of the trip:
A Momentous Haiku
VW Bus,
You’re like an obese child
On a small snow sled.
August 30, 2005; Tuesday; 7:29am; Entering Wichita Falls, Texas, 120 miles northwest of Dallas.
Things we saw yesterday:
1. At least four or five “petrified forests” in Arizona and New Mexico. Each of these is more like 3 or 4 petrified tree stumps protruding from the desert landscape with a small shop built nearby. Even petrification can make money!
2. The world’s largest petrified tree, but I feel like this was a lie.
3. The world’s largest map of Route 66 (About 50 feet long painted on the side of yet another gift shop…I feel like we have been in the same gift shop over and over)
4. Giant plaster dinosaurs along I-40 in Arizona. The T-Rex was eating a Triceratops.
5. Countless “Indian stores” in New Mexico.
Our favorite road signs so far:
1. Holy Moses Wash (Apparently that’s what dried out creeks are called in Arizona)
2. Drink. Drive. Go to Jail.
3. Adopt a Highway sponsored by: ‘Mom, why do people litter?’
4. Gusty Winds May Exist.
We just drove through the night again. We stopped yesterday for lunch and to go to a couple of Indian casinos. Indian casinos are kind of depressing. All the dealers seem to hate their jobs, and the slot machines are populated by expressionless old people. And smoking is gross.
We are almost to Dallas, and hope to find some thrift stores so we can buy some Texan souvenirs for people. Most of all, we are looking for bull horns to put on the front of the bus. That would be menacing.
If one word could describe this trip so far, it would be this: UNBELIEVABLE.
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
Sicktrip Journal I
As I mentioned in my last post, Tim "Nailgun" Davies is getting married in a couple weeks. In honor of him, I am reposting the journal I kept a few years ago when we drove Tyler's 68 VW Bus to North Carolina and back. In all of it's unedited cheesiness, I present to you...THE SICKTRIP JOURNAL:
August 28, 2005; Sunday; 9:01pm; Departing San Luis Obispo, CA.
We are currently merging onto the 101N freeway towards Bakersfield. From Bakersfield we will travel east on the 40; which is the modern reincarnation of the famed Route 66. We are overflowing with eagerness and childish wonder at the things to come; most of which we hope are good. Everyone has been saying that Tyler’s bus (a 1968 VW) will not make it; Tyler wants to prove them wrong as we drive straight towards Hurricane Katrina as she makes landfall on New Orleans. Nailgun (Tim Davies) hopes that we will at least make it out of the desolate states of Arizona and New Mexico. We pray for the guidance and protection of the Almighty. We also pray for unity as brothers in Christ; that we wouldn’t grow impatient with each other as we (hopefully) spend the next three weeks in close company.
August 29, 2005; Monday; 8:36am; Driving through Northern Arizona.
It was decided before the trip began that “Faithfully” by Journey is the theme song of the trip. This was confirmed when we heard the song playing at the first gas station we stopped at in Barstow, CA. Barstow is most definitely “sketch”.
We are just leaving a small city in Arizona right on the old Route 66. We are about 80 miles west of Flagstaff. We have been driving since 9 o’clock last night, only stopping twice for gas. Our first stop was in Barstow, CA at about 2am at a very shady gas station. We drove on through Needles, and watched the sun rise as we drove over the Colorado River into Arizona. The rugged plateaus were silhouetted against the lightening sky like a torn piece of cloth. The desert is very boring, but beautiful in a sort of way. Northern Arizona is unexpectedly pretty, with lots of greenery and wildflowers along the 40. This journal has started out dreadfully boring, and I am sure that consecutive days of limited sleep will only enhance my creative and poetic genius.
August 28, 2005; Sunday; 9:01pm; Departing San Luis Obispo, CA.
We are currently merging onto the 101N freeway towards Bakersfield. From Bakersfield we will travel east on the 40; which is the modern reincarnation of the famed Route 66. We are overflowing with eagerness and childish wonder at the things to come; most of which we hope are good. Everyone has been saying that Tyler’s bus (a 1968 VW) will not make it; Tyler wants to prove them wrong as we drive straight towards Hurricane Katrina as she makes landfall on New Orleans. Nailgun (Tim Davies) hopes that we will at least make it out of the desolate states of Arizona and New Mexico. We pray for the guidance and protection of the Almighty. We also pray for unity as brothers in Christ; that we wouldn’t grow impatient with each other as we (hopefully) spend the next three weeks in close company.
August 29, 2005; Monday; 8:36am; Driving through Northern Arizona.
It was decided before the trip began that “Faithfully” by Journey is the theme song of the trip. This was confirmed when we heard the song playing at the first gas station we stopped at in Barstow, CA. Barstow is most definitely “sketch”.
We are just leaving a small city in Arizona right on the old Route 66. We are about 80 miles west of Flagstaff. We have been driving since 9 o’clock last night, only stopping twice for gas. Our first stop was in Barstow, CA at about 2am at a very shady gas station. We drove on through Needles, and watched the sun rise as we drove over the Colorado River into Arizona. The rugged plateaus were silhouetted against the lightening sky like a torn piece of cloth. The desert is very boring, but beautiful in a sort of way. Northern Arizona is unexpectedly pretty, with lots of greenery and wildflowers along the 40. This journal has started out dreadfully boring, and I am sure that consecutive days of limited sleep will only enhance my creative and poetic genius.
Monday, April 14, 2008
it's time
"Tim why haven't you blogged in a while?"
Because I've been busy. Sue me.
Last week, my friend Tobi told me he wanted me to update my blog. Tobi is from Germany. There aren't many things I know for sure, but one thing I do know for sure is that Germans going against a German is never a good idea, unless they are yelling alot about some kind of "reich".
Three interesting things I've experienced in the last few weeks:
-A man riding a bike with a parrot on the handlebars
-A free sample lady in Costco who was really eager to talk to me about the dangers of eating too much grease when you get older, even if it does taste really good.
-A very small town called Wasco, in between SLO and Bakersfield. It consists of a prison, a golf course surrounded by painfully typical tract homes, and a strip mall. In the strip mall, I saw the following establishments:
Savemart
Discount Mall
Dollar Tree
Super Chinese Buffet Only $1!!!
Taco Bell
I went into said Taco Bell for lunch yesterday and I was shocked that it was full, but more than that, I was shocked that it was full of very white, very churchy looking families. I thought, "WHERE DO THESE PEOPLE LIVE!? HOW DOES ANYONE GROW UP HERE!?"
Tim "Nailgun" Davies is getting married in a couple weeks. In honor of his upcoming wedding, I think I will repost the journal from our cross-country roadtrip.
Because I've been busy. Sue me.
Last week, my friend Tobi told me he wanted me to update my blog. Tobi is from Germany. There aren't many things I know for sure, but one thing I do know for sure is that Germans going against a German is never a good idea, unless they are yelling alot about some kind of "reich".
Three interesting things I've experienced in the last few weeks:
-A man riding a bike with a parrot on the handlebars
-A free sample lady in Costco who was really eager to talk to me about the dangers of eating too much grease when you get older, even if it does taste really good.
-A very small town called Wasco, in between SLO and Bakersfield. It consists of a prison, a golf course surrounded by painfully typical tract homes, and a strip mall. In the strip mall, I saw the following establishments:
Savemart
Discount Mall
Dollar Tree
Super Chinese Buffet Only $1!!!
Taco Bell
I went into said Taco Bell for lunch yesterday and I was shocked that it was full, but more than that, I was shocked that it was full of very white, very churchy looking families. I thought, "WHERE DO THESE PEOPLE LIVE!? HOW DOES ANYONE GROW UP HERE!?"
Tim "Nailgun" Davies is getting married in a couple weeks. In honor of his upcoming wedding, I think I will repost the journal from our cross-country roadtrip.
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