Friday, June 10, 2005


Road Trip Report #2: ON THE ROAD

Just want you to know: I'm supposed to be writing the first chapter of our round-robin novel, but guess what I'm doing instead?

So we're on our way. My great regret is that we had to blow out of Chicago on Friday before we had a chance to find out just how much of a scalping we'd take to watch the Cubs play the Red Sox. We almost certainly could not have afforded it. But it would have been worth asking.

(there's more from Chicago to come. I just didn't have time to upload all the images.)

Now we're on the road. JC is the most sober, and has predicted he will not again be so in command of his faculties, so he's driving. I think it might almost be better if he was drunk. JC's a jumpy driver, lots of swerving and driving straight up people's asses. I'm in the back, using my wish brake a lot.

JC is easily distracted on the road. He reads billboards ("'The Hove Inn! Hourly, weekly, monthly rates!'" Hey Kid, that looks like a nice place. What do you think? I've got a black light in my bag, you can check the sheets with it!"), he comments on vehicle performance constantly ("You know this car pulls a little to the right. Oh wait, the emergency brake is on."), he's a sucker for amusing town and road names (Did you see that? The sign said 'Fang Boner Road!' A-HAHAHAHAHAW--whoa, almost hit that guy!") and he scoffs at highway department signs, especially any involving toll booths. ("'Check the brakes'? Forget that? It's gonna be a surprise. Will they stop me today?").

But we survived. We stopped for the night at a motor court that offered clean sheets and towels and it might well have had them, when it first opened in 1949. It's good that we arrived in the dark, so that the Kid couldn't see the exterior clearly. If he had, he might have announced a vice squad raid was imminent and begged us to leave.

It was a slow night at the place, so the manager offered us two rooms for the price of one. He also informed us that the motel offered a free "continental" breakfast" in the morning, which is surprising in this sub-strata of the hospitality industry. So it was all to the good. How wonderful not to have to share a bed with one of my carmates, or sleep on the marshy floor of such rooms as we could afford. And so I got a big bed to myself, and the trough worn in the middle of it was truly astounding.


The Kid wandered between rooms, peering at every watermark on the bathroom wall, eyeing every errant splotch or stain on the walls or mirrors. "Yeah, that's got to be jism." he kept saying in a confirming sort of way. He looked like this, pretty much.


I can't vouch for the Kid, but I got a surprisingly restful few hours of sleep. And in the morning there was indeed a breakfast set-up in the cigarette-smoke filled lobby: there was a cracked urn that dispensed coffee from the Brown Crayon School of coffee-making. And there WAS breakfast: a whole box of Hostess Twinkies.

I know you wouldn't believe me, so I took some pictures.


Coffee and Twinkies...mmm! Them's eats.

From Somewhere on the Road

Nice twinkies.
Are you sure that face isn't a reaction to the Twinkies? :)

I'm enjoying reading about your escapades - sounds like you guys are having a terrific time!

Looking forward to the next report...
Breakfast of champions I say! Better with beer tho.

All kidding aside - digging the road trip logs, keep 'em coming! Looking forward to some individual incident reports too.

Funnier than you? I doubt that very much.

If a round-robin novel is too much to accomplish on this trip, how about a round robin blog? Could be fun, no?
Are you sure you're not staying in places like that just because they make for better stories?!
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