Well, the trip to the left coast was successful, but not without a
couple of challenges. Of course I'll probably embellish them to make an otherwise boring trip at least readable.
I didn't get out of Norman until nearly 5 o'clock Friday night, with the goal to reach Amarillo. No problem, but it actually began to rain half
way there. It was during this leg also that I learned the radio didn't work, the seat was well worn out, and my butt was not going to like the
next three days. (Note to Sonya and Dean: The Budget truck I got was four years old, and not in the best of condition. So I guess it is all
ya'll's fault because you recommended Budget. Note to the Note: That is the last time I will use the word ya'll. It doesn't work in So Cal.)
Upon waking from my stay in the Comfort Inn (actually good choice) I went next door for a healthy breakfast at the Cracker Barrel. You know,
a platter full of dead and unhatched animals covered with gravy. The orange juice made it healthy. Lea, your Camelot motel was right across
the freeway. Even the $25 rate did not make it look attractive. Thanks for the warning.
When I went in the Cracker Barrel, it was still raining, with a hint of solid stuff. When I came out, it was snowflakes bigger than the new
Sackagawean dollar. (Apologies for the probably misspelling of her name.)
I was planning on continuing on to Albuquerque, which is due west, up the mountains, and the direction from which the snow was coming from.
After consulting a west Texas travel expert (a 19-year old kid at the Texaco station) I decide to head straight south for Lubbock. Good
choice. I ran out of snow halfway to Lubbock. The other good thing would be, if I had a US map with push pins in all the places I had
been, I could stick one in Lubbock. But I don't, and I probably won't be back to Lubbock. No big loss on either count.
But I also got to see Roswell, New Mexico. Aliens everywhere. At least on billboards. Half of me wanted to stop and go through the museums and
tourist traps, and the other half said what a bunch of baloney. OK, 90% of me wanted to see the stuff. I kept on driving. Of course I'll never
be back to Roswell. I shoulda stopped.
I drove in rain most of the day, until I got close to Ruidosa, New Mexico. Duh, I forgot, Ruidosa is known for some pretty good skiing.
Skiing takes snow right? Well it started snowing again. But not enough to cause trouble though. My only trouble here was the fact that the
last quarter of the fuel gauge dropped faster than the stock market this week.. I had 28 miles to go - after the gauge went well below E. But I
made it OK. The tank was a 30 gallon tank, I only had to put 28 gallons in it. Glad I didn't have one my ex'es with me, would have been
catching hell for sure.
Made it to Las Cruces Saturday night. Actually in the afternoon about 4:30. But my butt couldn't go any farther. Took about a mile walk
just to stretch.
Sunday morning, up at 5. About 500 miles to San Diego, decided to go for it. The original plan was to not to arrive until Monday, but I
could smell the fish tacos from here.
At this point it's all Interstate and flat. I actually coaxed 70 mph out of the truck. Weather's great, sunny, warm. Let's seen sunny,
warm, desert, high speed, loaded truck, cheap tires - blow out. Describing the incident as horrifying as the truck swerved all over the
road, running cars off, the trailer whipping nearly into the ditch, and seeing my life flash before my eyes would be - a lie. All I heard was a
pop. But it was a loud pop. I was approaching Tucson, the road was smooth, and I didn't feel anything. It still drove well. (I actually
did wonder if one of the bottles of champagne that I had in the back had exploded because of the bouncing. But I really didn't think I'd be able
to hear it.)
Well, I kept going. I figure if no one passing me is making stupid gestures and mouthing indiscernible instructions, the truck and trailer
must be ok. By this point I'm feeling as confident as Clark Griswold.
Needing fuel, I stopped on the other side of Tucson. As I'm standing there looking at the dollars fly by on the diesel pump, I look down at
the tire. Whoa, I'm looking at a hole in the side-wall about the size of a football. I'm staring at what looks like the ribs of the creature
in Alien. But the tire is still up. I did think for a nano-second, "I don't need no stink'in sidewall". Then logic prevailed, called Budget's
emergency road service number. To make a long story short, I lost nearly 3 hours. But, they found a tire company, and the guy replaced it
in about 15 minutes once he got there.
Once I got back on the road, my schedule was delayed. But I decided to make San Diego Sunday night anyway. Had to keep the pedal to the metal,
but I pulled up to my friend's house about 8:00. Long trip. But everything went pretty well.
Took possession of my apartment Monday morning, all moved in by the evening. Didn't hire anyone here to unload. Got my friend Danny to
help with the last of the big stuff. I had sore muscles where I didn't know I had muscles.
And then, a new prospect had the nerve to ask me to do an interview at 8:00 Tuesday. Job hunting is certainly going to get in the way of
surf time.
The End - but not finished. |
