Day 1- Mojave Desert. Rations dwindling. Morale is low. Listening to a BBC radio adaptation of Lord of the Rings . They cut Tom Bombadil. Morale is lower. Nothing but humped mounds of volcanic rock, craggy peaks, and cacti. The authentic Japanese green tea I bought from Costco wasn't sweetened. Broke an axle when we drove into a ditch. Suffered from heatstroke performing repairs in the blasted wasteland commonly known as Southern California. I was wrong when I said there was nothing but volcanic rock, craggy peaks, and cacti. There are also cranky truckers probably hyped up on crack and energy drinks. They give us unfriendly glances beneath grimy baseball caps and scraggly facial hair. Air conditioner broke down. Ran out of supposedly authentic Japanese green tea purchased from Costco. Cooler no longer cold. Only Gatorade, water, Monster energy drinks, and Frappacinos to drink. Nothing but oil drills, wind operated turbines, food plants, and hills. A town named Boron advertises a gas station, food, lodging, and a teeter totter for bored children. There were careful signs pointing to the teeter totter, but no gas stations in sight. Continued past the decrepit trailer town without fuel. Continued to drive on I-40. Apparently it's fashionable in the deserts of California to deface the landscape with messages, as opposed to the billboard or bridge graffiti common in the city. I was kindly informed by these indignant, rock scribbling individuals that Congress created the Dust Bowl and Croatia still needs freeing. Stopped at a McDonalds in Needles. Food tasted funny. They refused to serve a guy who walked into the establishment without a shirt on. He never came back. Completed the first leg of our grueling journey, resting at a motel in Flagstaff, Arizona. The internet doesn't work. Raucous college kids yell from their perch on the second floor of the hotel to their friends, messily piled into the back of an old Toyota pickup, about the location of the nearest Foster's Freeze. Slowly drift into an uneasy sleep.
Day 57- Wake to the cackling of vultures, comfortably rested atop a broken neon hotel sign. The street is covered by a shroud of dust that leisurely floats through the morning air like mist rolling in from the ocean. Made an early start. Rations even more dwindlinger. Not a teeter-totter in sight. Air conditioner working again. Freezing rain pours from the gnarled thunderclouds that gather in the troubled sky. The air conditioner won't turn off. Road visibility is nil. Stumbled into a Beef O'Brady's in Amarillo, Texas. Waitress spoke in some alien dialect. Steak is overcooked, Beer is warm, and they only have strawberry limeade. Bivouack in Shamrock, Texas, a town distinguished by it's obsession with green signs, lights, and decorations. The internet still doesn't work.
Day 298- Home stretch. Last frappacino gone. The white lines on the road are starting to play tricks on my tired mind. The cracked terrain continues to be ravaged by the merciless sun that beats down in waves on our heads. Inconsiderate bugs keep splattering themselves all over our windshield. Car desperately needs washing, driver desperately needs BBQ.
Day 300- Finally arrive at our destination in Memphis. Luggage tossed into room. We drive to Central BBQ where we are soothed by a duo playing country blues on a resonator guitar and an acoustic bass. We are even treated to a couple of harmonica solos and washboard percussion as we consume our tasty sauce smothered dishes and drink cool carbonated drinks as the sun settles below the orange horizon.
Day 303- The internet finally works. It's good to be back.
No comments:
Post a Comment