The Longest Drive

Texas allergies, you guys!

El Paso to Los Angeles is a long, long drive. I woke up early at the hotel, much earlier than I wanted to, but I was up so I thought, “might as well start the  drive.” First I decided to have the continental breakfast. It was the worst. The only thing that was good was the salsa. Well, Fruit Loops and Dannon yogurt but they have a taste profile that has been around for a while. That hotel actually paid someone to cook the food on this plate. It was bland at best and, at worst, may have been responsible for my first non-drowsy stop.

Driving right away was a bad idea. I had to stop every 2 hours because I was tired. But sometimes, on that long, dry drive to Los Angeles, there are not good stops every 2 hours. It was pretty rough.

The beauty of that drive, though. The mountains in the distance, the desolate landscape, shrubs and cacti dotting the desert. It was quite beautiful. Rock formations, painted landscape, and very few cars.

and

It’s always been funny to me the invisible line that changes states (and time zones) but the change from Texas to Arizona was musically punctuated by the change from “Stars That Shine” to “Skylight” from Floco Torres’ Dreamboard. To hear the stirring guitar notes  that opens Skylight as I see the welcome to Arizona sign was a bit visceral. The further I get from Macon, the more real all of this is. It is a sad but triumphant feeling to be driving so far from the place I’ve called home for so long, from the people I’ve called family. There is excitement in those first notes, but also a little sad. The rain comes down as we wait for the sky to fall. But we also wait for the skylight.

This part of the drive included a drop in wireless service, the hottest hot so hot that I thought I was being cooked alive. The wind blew fiercely, pushing the truck and my air conditioning was nearly useless. Oh, yeah, and a truck trailing a boat caught completely on fire. I mean, melted tired, ashed exterior, smoke, etc. The boat, however, was fine. The fire slowed us down for about 20 minutes, but I couldn’t tell Waze because I had no carrier access.

Crossing into California from Arizona on the 8 probably feels like the loneliest drive into the state. I had to stop at border patrol. The BP guy asked me where I was going and I said Juneau by way of Los Angeles. “Juneau?” he asked, brows raised. “What’s in the back?” “All my worldly possessions,” I said. “Can we take a look?”

Ugh. No, because my liftgate handle was broken and even I couldn’t get in. I was surviving on thrift store clothes and Walmart underwear and the kindness of friends to let me use their laundry because I couldn’t get in. Hell, if you could get in, Border Patrol, it would actually make me happy – unless you can’t close it and then I will hate you.

So of course I have to pull over to the side while the drug dogs sniff my truck. Hopefully they won’t bark at the cats and cause them to cut open the cover or take apart the cab where I’ll be even later getting into Los Angeles.

I didn’t end up waiting that long. But I look tired, don’t I?

I finally make it to Seth and Jaki’s by 11pm when I thought I would get there around 9pm. 2 hours off was not so bad, but 13 hours on the road was tough. This was the first day where I spent the entire day on the road. It was nice to end it with friends.