Tuesday, December 2, 2014

To save a little cash

To save a little cash, I decided to drive my Van from Denver to my new home in Southern California.

A thousand mile journey...A LIFETIME OF DISCOMFORT!!!  

My Sweet Ass Chevy Grand Caravan, that my wife just HAD to have for one road trip three years ago, was packed to the gills. (in a Not-So-Orderly Fashion)...Like really not-so-orderly. So not-so-orderly that when I took it to get a fresh oil change, the Jiffy Lube register girl was surprised that I was able to give her a HOME address. She laughed as she said, "I thought you were homeless with all that junk in your car."

Funny, I didn't find that so hysterical. I don't think anyone would be AMUSED to have the look of someone who's bottoming out in life. I knew I should've shave that day.

I took off on my 1000 mile, 2 day journey with enough caffeine and candy bars to make a Koala break dance.

It was a burning hot, late summer day in Denver, so the first thing I did was roll up the windows and crank up the AC. After about 9 seconds of what felt like a big dog breathing on me, I realized, MUCH TO MY CHAGRIN, that I would not be enjoying the benefits of an Air Conditioner on this trip.

I coughed up enough cuss words to make pimps in Deadwood go to confession before I had even left Denver Proper.

It was so hot that I drank all of my super caffeinated soda within the first hour of my trip. So I was ridiculously hot and now wired out of my mind.

Did you know that twitching and fidgeting creates more sweat?

For hours I felt like I was going through Smack withdrawals in my van. I was miserably hot, jumpy, and in great need of a shower, but I thought that I could stay awake forever. It wasn't until I entered The Middle Of Nowhere Utah that all the caffeine I drank at the beginning of the trip had worn off. Now I was crashing. I couldn't hold my eyes open.

I know it's dangerous to drive when you're that tired, but I also know that it's dangerous to sleep on the shoulder of a desolate road. I just pictured myself waking up in my car and saying, "What a great little nap...where are my clothes?...how did you get in my van?...(stab stab stab)

I took my chances on the road.

After waking up to the sound of roadside ridges for the 1000th time, I got to an exit sign that said, "Lodging next exit" and noticed a Motel 6 sign. I began thanking any higher power that had something to do with me making it to a safe place with a cold shower.

I've traveled the country a number of times and I've never seen a Motel 6 that wasn't open. Tom Bodett had not left the light on. Thankfully right next door, I saw a "Vacancy" sign attached to another Motel. I don't think I ever found out the name of this hotel. I just refer to it as Motel 1, because I think it was the first set of rooms ever rented out to delirious travelers. Box Car Willie would've past on this joint.

When I saw how dingy my room was, I was seriously thinking about driving my car through the front door of this place just to sleep on a prison cot.

I woke up a few hours later, I managed to get something out of the Rust/Water Shower and was on my way with confidence that Mesothelioma was in my near future.

I had no idea that you could feel more tired after sleeping or feel dirtier after showering, but the Motel 1 was special.

The sun wasn't even up but the temperature was around 107 or so, perfect time to leave. I opened the door to my van and was almost knocked down by the smell of steaming hot garbage. I still don't remember loading dead fish in my van, but they had to be there.

How could I have driven all that way and not noticed this stench? With the windows rolled down the whole way the stench of what ever dead animal was buried in my van wasn't as apparent as it became after it fermented in my baking van with the windows up.
I could not find the stink...AND IT STUNK!  After realizing I was too tired to take everything out of the van to find the smell, I would have to just live with it and get moving. The trip had now reached a new level of comfort.

My wife began to worry because I didn't use my phone for the rest of the trip. When I talked on the phone with the windows rolled down, I sounded like one of those "on location" reporters who cover hurricanes. You couldn't understand a word I was saying. With the windows rolled up you could hear me fine, but every second I spent on the phone, I inched scarily close to passing out from the smell or just combusting.

It was a miserable ride, but eventually I made it to my place in California. I got out of my Van, or as I now knew it, my "Solitary Confinement hole", looking like one of those Coal Mine Collapse Survivors. My wife was thrilled to see me, "Wow you're here already? That drive wasn't bad at all."

I couldn't believe she said this. She had no empathy at all for my 17 hours of hell on wheels. It took me a while to get over her non-appreciation. All that way, Triple Digit Heat, Dead Fish Smell, Motel 1 and nothing from my wife!

For the next three days I looked at my wife with, what she now describes as, a face that could only belong to an NFL player in a Las Vegas Elevator. 

Easy Trip! ...God Bless Moving Companies

Sent from my iPad

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