I have a hard time finding time to write these days, which means I’ve been busy, which means better stories when I get around to writing them. Sorry I wish I had an excuse, but I don’t. But I am alive and travelling still. About to travel back east with a bearded Brit. Hmmm… That sounds interesting….. I’ll tell you a bit more about this chap after I catch up on roughly 5 intense and amazing installments of this epic odyssey. As for now, my knee is fucked (Vancouver… Saved for another time) and I’m about to head into the wilderness (so that time might be delayed). but enough about me, I know none of you care about my well being, It’s all about Ol’ Blue. Well shes doing good. Running like a champ and being loud because herexhaust broke off and my horrible cheap fixes aren’t holding. Well till I tumbl again. Cheers.
Posts tagged Ol' Blue
After driving through some of the most beautiful landscapes from Death Valley to Big Sur. Everything was expensive in Big Sur, but it was truley goreous. I highly recommend driving Route 1 the coastal highway, its gorgeous. But around Hearst Castle (I didn’t go, I’m cheap), I kept my promise to Ol’ Blue and let her see the Pacific before she died. I touched the Pacific for the first time as well (Spoiler it’s wet). Twas a glorious day.
Beatiful Coast drives with scenic views, we even spent a night at the Comfort Inn (it had bath with jets!!) instead a Motel 6. Played trivia at a “British” Pub, ate Del Taco, walked around some neat places (Monterrey, Santa Cruz). But times like that could last couldn’t last. We got to Santa Cruz and couldn’t even get get a Motel 6 and the hostel had a 10PM curfew (really?). So we stayed at a overpriced TravelLodge due to it being graduation weekend.
We should have known when the old Indian lady behind the counter kinda smiled to herself when she said the room was hard to sell. We walk in and it looked like there was the Great Cigarette War of 1976. Cigarette burns were everywhere; door ways, the ceiling, the comforters, the walls, the desk, the seat (half of a side was burnt away) basically everywhere. There was a nice sauce/puke stain in the corner of the room, and a furnace with an accessible pilot, that we later lit cigarettes on, that turned on when turning on the AC. Hard to sell…I get it now.
Well, needless to say, Bethan’s birthday was midnight that night so we bought a bunch of booze, cigarettes (we had a smoking room, why not?), and party hardy in that shithole. The worse part though is the day we left it looked horrible, but at least we knew half the mess wasn’t ours.
We then decided to go straight to San Francisco from there, but San Fran deserves its own story, maybe two. But we did stop at the Mystery Spot enroute and seriously that place is cool, but I think the trick might be trick levels (or aliens).
Shit, After Vegas it was nice to get into something that was real. So we took off for the Grand Canyon via the Hoover Dam. At the Hoover Dam we had a dam good time (I’m sorry I had to fit that in somewhere). I bragged about being a member of the ASCE and kept getting in the way of pictures mostly (Brenden was becoming increasingly wearing of my unaware ways). Then we went of to the Grand Canyon. Seriously, if you havent gone go. It’s awesome, literally, it puts you into awe. I could bore you with a bunch of poetic lines about it’s beauty, but that’s not my style.
What is my style is telling you about the drunken mayhem that occurred after we got all naturey. Well it was my “last” night with the boys so we bought some sausages and alcohol. As I sat down to enjoy one of my sausages (not like that. come on guys/gals), I was sipping on some wine, when Dr. Simpson had one of his famous amazingly great ideas. Lets play HubleDouble, but with teams so if one side of the bench f’d up, the whole side drank. Odds Vs Evens. Shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit.
Here’s a Fucking Travel Tip, if you ever meet a Brit named Joe from Weymouth… DON’T play a drinking game against him or if you do, don’t sit next to him (well if you wanna increase your drinking skills sit next to him). Joe just sits around and will call you out on anything, he enjoys fucking people over and decapitation. I sat directly in front of him, plus I’m an American idiot. Lets just put it this way, I wound up getting a HumbleDouble record of being HumbleDouble7Double15. Fuck!!! My team despised me, I didn’t care. I am the Wookie and I shall Spromit where I please. Well after the campsite dickhead told us to keep it down (it was to late, we where hitting the hay anyways. What a cockface.) The boys started singing to me, not wanting me to leave. It was moving them going from hating to loving (Booze does this to Brits). Singing in their lovely voices, If you leave me now, you take away the biggest part of me. T’was emotional.
The next day, we had a last supper at Pizza Hut, right after they had to push me into a gas station for running out of gas (Ol’ Blues gas gauge is rather slow). At Pizza Hut we laughed, we cried, we spromitted, and then took off.
But that was not the last I saw of the Britiots, I pull into a gas station and and come out of the shop there they are. I would have thought it was just coincidence, until driving through California I got tried and pulled into a rest area to sleep. Then a get a knock on my car door and a person saying I can’t sleep here. Fuck it’s them those creeps, tailing me. We laugh, cried, and spromitted all over again and went to bed for a quick nap. Needless to say I woke up the next morning to Phil asking for a jump. Then they took off and we parted ways for good… or did we?
Just a Taste of the Mayhem
OK where was I o yeah got into a car with to semi regular looking people around my age. The showed up late and not wanting to waste the day I started drinking and checking out ChazzFest. Then they finally arrived I jumped in the car super excited to know that I’d be with Ol’ Blue in a lil’ over 6 hours. Everything was cool. Then they started shooting up heroin.
Fuck…. Why me? and I was drunk so I couldn’t drive. So they pull into a Wal-Mart and passed out. Sweet Then the next day I’m up just pacing around the car they are out. The guy is yellin in the girls face and she ain’t movin. FUCK!!!!! She finally moves the guy starts driving then after ten minutes he pulls over at a gas station and passes out on the hood. FUUUUCKK!!!!!! I offer coffee and to drive… Nope they they just pass out for another hour. Then I lose patients and say its time to go, the girl drives and after getting money somehow from a dude at a Memphis hotel then dropped me off (yay!!! I survived I guess May the 4th was with me, Yeah I know original).
And there’s Ol’ Blue sittin waitin’ never looking better. Then Justin (my wonderful host) pulls in, I tell him the story and how I feel like shit, sleepin in a crammed car with junkies passed out around me. He laughs and says heroin people can be hard to tell cuz you normally need money for it. Then he lights a blunt, god bless that man… seriously after shit like that you need a blunt and he was on it.
I took a nap on the couch, showered, but it was Cinco de Mayo (you know the day that white people celebrate the creation of Tequila) so my night wasn’t over, not by far. We go to the bar where his roomie works at and got tanked (Thanks for the hook up, Tim). No heroin was involved, it was awesome!! I also got called out by some friends I met the last time (but seriously Shannon, follow me into to the bathroom to confirm its me? ya creep ha). But it was good to see them again, the two girls I met last time, Elizabeth and Joy, asked about my blog and what I said about Tennessee. Honestly I didn’t remember what I wrote about Tennessee the last time. Mostly because I was shitting out a bunch of stories to catch up and also I Kerouac it… I type, I don’t write. But here it is they be some wonderful southern belles down in Memphis (or up because I’m typing this in Austin, TX now) and congrats to Joy for Graduating and to Elizabeth for her 4.0. Smart and beautiful, complete packages there in Memphis, boyz.
After we had our fill of tequila shots, Justin spoiled me again, but grabbing the check before I could (You’re the shit man). Then back to the cave for a blunt. Wooot. For them all hatin’ Memphis, they sure know how to make a man like it.
Then the moment arrives the next day… walk outside, my eyes squinting in the sun. I unlock my passenger side and lean over to the drivers side and unlock it. I grip the door handle, open it up. It reeks of car in sun, I sit down. Turn her over. Rev her up. Ol’ Blue Rides Again!!!!!!!!
Gawd. I hated Mississippi and having to say that damn song every time I spell it for the beginning. First night I got a site near the coast and was bombarded with bugs and creepy ass arachnids. So I packed up and left to go north to another state park. I figured I’d avoid some bugs. So I get to Paul B. Johnson State park and I go to the primitive campsites. Of coarse I’m a curious idiot so I go past a gate and wind up getting stuck in some mud (shouldn’t of hesitated, you need to gun that shit). So some good ol’ country boys working for the park come and pull me out and we all have good laugh.
Well the bullshit’s not done yet, later that night was a killer storm. I, personally love storms, my tent is tough and leak proof so I was cool (even jammed though the storm). Little did I know that there was a tornado less than 10 miles away from me (ignorance is bliss). So The next day was beautiful and I got sun burnt and then I got my key stuck in my car (my lock still feels weird it and scares me because I only have one working lock on Ol’ Blue).
But this is where my Miss’sippi (as they say it, I guess she aint married) story changes. I had to go get a sponge to do dishes and on my way I saw this little dive called the Rusty Bucket, almost drove by again on my way back from the tiny country store, but I was curious, wanted a beer, and wanted to be in a dark gloomy place (still gettin used to the abundance of sun down here).
I walk in two guys and a bartender no music, just stares. I say, “Howdy.” and sat at the bar. I expected to stay for a drink or two. But I started talking to one of the guys at the bar (the bartenders husband). He went by Lee and liked what I was doing and started calling me “Nomad”. In comes another Southern gent who was called Mr. Butch, by George (the bartender). He was one of those southern type with the really slow talk and was quite funny (In the words of George, “he was in rare form”). Conversation was good (George was a fellow cheesehead so we talked about how Brett Farve was near among other things) and I stayed for far more than two beers (all I planned on was getting a sponge). A friend of George and Lee came in, named Lynnessa, so after the bar closed, we all went to her house kept drinking and Lynnessa made me a delicious sandwich and then some grilled strawberries and artichokes (I love eating when I’m drunk, I get ridiculous munchies).
So the next day Lee, George, & Lynnessa came to pick me up for the real Miss’sippi experience. The day started with a good southern style lunch at a place called The Movie Star. Nice buffet style restaurant with a bunch of antiques signs everywhere. Then we went to stalk Brett Farve (I was star struck just by his gate), then off to some of the local bars. We first went to Nick’s Ice House in Hattiesburg. Let me tell you what that place was awesome; dark, toilets for bar stool, bunch of rock and rock stuff, and kegs for a pisser. Unfortunately, it wasn’t open yet (this what happens when you start early for we had a string of bad luck of that), but Lynnessa told him about my pilgrimage and he was kind enough to let us in.
We then went to went to a bunch of other bars (Our Place, The Corner Bar, Toots) Twas fun and each bar they all had there own kinda atmosphere and fun times. A great way to celebrate National Beer Day. At Our Place, we had a chocolate cake shot (seriously tastes just like it), Corner bar I had fresh raw oysters for the first time, and at Toots… Well I just continued to get just shitfaced. Was a good day living like the locals and meeting a bunch of good people.
So knowing that I was leaving the next day to check out New Orleans and that I never rode a Harley, Lee made me be his bitch (or was he mine, we argued over this matter). That was awesome (even though my ginormous head had a hard time fitting into any of his helmets) and the we got some Waffle House (the south loves ‘em). I’ll be back in Mississippi after New Orleans for the juke jam in Clarksdale, but am awfully tempted to go back to Hattiesburg for a good time.
My Executive Suite at the Ol’ Blue Hotel.