Goin' Out West (Driving to Los Angeles)

After Patton’s gas station, it’s back into the hills. I played every cliché song , Goin’ to California by Led ZeppelinWild Wild West by the Culture Club, Route 66 by Depeche Mode,

GOIN' OUT WEST by Tom Waitts...

Finally, I put on Queens of the Stone Age and left it as I headed out of the desert and over the hills where there are giant wind mills that greet you in Desert Hot Springs and a couple of casinos. There’s also wind—LOTS OF WIND! Enough wind to make you think it’s going to pick up your car and send it spinning. 

After the wind, there was a rain storm, which wasn’t necessarily a bad thing since my truck had enough desert dust to be almost an “ashetone tan”. I’d hoped to make it into Los Angeles before the sun went down, but with the sun dropping below the hills and 130 miles left to go, that wasn’t going to happen. Also, all of the storage places were already closed, which meant we were going to have to unload my truck then reload it to go back to storage.

We used two grocery carts to unload everything from the truck. It took me and several friends an entire day to pack. When I got to L.A. it took us less than an hour to unpack. The picture frames made it. The clothes and books made it. And yep, the drums made it. Which meant it was time for a drink.

Old-Fashioned pictured above...in case you're wondering.

Vaya Con Dios, Trigger (Driving to Phoenix)

Leaving out of El Paso it’s only a few minutes before the sign for entering New Mexico. 

Sign entering New Mexico.

The mountain scenery changes. This is the land of the Apache where Geronimo roamed (and judging by how vast it is, he probably roamed for a long loooooong time). There’s a tourist information center just after you cross into New Mexico which’s a great spot for pictures. 

The land where Geronimo roamed...and roamed...

On the road with the Che audiobook, I learned all the pranks Che pulled as a kid (including shooting firecrackers into a dinner party). The sun was dropping as I drove into Tucson when I got a call from Marissa, giving me directions to her place in Phoenix.

Pictures taken at 70 mph are not guaranteed to be clear.

Staying with friends is the best way to travel. I got to meet Whiley, Marissa’s husband. We grilled. We ate. We drank. Did you know there's a vodka made out of pineapples?!! I also met Trigger. 

A dog named Trigger.

Trigger is a rescue dog Marissa saved and is convinced Trigger knows this. She’s still a puppy and has that level of energy. She also sings, but she won't just sing anything. It has to be Jimmy Buffet's Vaya Con Dios. She’ll stand in front of the speaker, tilt her head, and wail. But don't take my word for it...

Longhorns, TRANSFORM (Driving to El Paso)

The plan had been to be out of the apartment by 9:00 AM when the office opened. I could drop off the keys, then hit the road. What happened was I kept finding places in the kitchen that needed to be cleaned—little knick-knacks, here and there which had to get shoved in the truck or tossed out. Stuff you wouldn’t necessarily pack in a box, but still manages to show up, CDs, mail, ipod chargers, you know stuff like that. There was a stack of mail with tax paperwork and Christmas cards, including a gift card to Red Lobster from my Grandma. 

We broke down the bed, moved it over to the neighbors, printed out the directions for the drive just in case the iphone went down (amazing how much I rely on this thing now), called mom, and hopped in the truck to leave. 

It was 11:00 AM.

Plenty of people told me that the drive was “brutal” so when I hit the road I was ready. The hardest part was getting out of Austin and gassing up at Schell for the last time in a long time. Pulling out of the gas station, I tried to drown my sorrows in gas station coffee and a Mrs. Baid’s Honey Bun. I love me some honey  buns. Chewing mouthfuls of that sweet sweet honey bun, I started to wonder how long it would be before I would get another Mrs. Baird’s Honey Bun. How long it would be before I saw all my friends. Was I crying and chewing honey bun and doing 85 mph…I can’t say for sure. 

Luckily, there were a couple of surprises on my 500 mile drive to El Paso. In Johnson City (hometown of President Lyndon Baines Johnson), there’s a shiny chrome colored longhorn that easily could have made it into one of the Transformers movies. It kinda jumps out at you. Everything else out there is green fields, grazing pastures, horses, goat farms then—all of the sudden—a gigantic chrome evil ROBOTIC COW!

After that, the drive is long, but if you’ve got the audiobook biography of Che Guevarra, it’s not so bad. Sure, there are times when there’s nothing but white dust and dirt and large rocks. And sure, having a blow out here would very much suck, but it’s a great time to think ahead, to plan things to come as you watch the miles to El Paso on the green signs that melt away and just as you start to learn what Che was like as a teenager, you start to get an appreciation for the landscape…and audiobooks. At about 20 miles to El Paso, the sun started to drop down over the horizon and maybe it was the dust, maybe it was the rock, or maybe it was that I knew there was less than 20 miles to El Paso, but it was one of the most incredible sunsets. I started to pull over then realized (thanks to a truckers’ horn) the speed limit’s 85 mph and with all the tractor trailers in the right lane, that may not be the greatest idea.

My tailgate doesn’t have a lock on it and not wanting someone to snag my stuff, I asked friends for their advice. Some said just sleep in the truck. Some road warriors even told me that Wal-Mart parking lots aren’t a bad place to sleep when you’re on the road. No one will mess with you there. In the end, I managed to find a hotel that would keep a camera on my truck parked just outside of the 24 hr. front desk. Happy to know I wouldn’t have to sleep in a Wal-Mart parking lot, I headed to the one place everyone goes when there’s been a big win. Red Lobster.

Thanks Grandma.

5 Days and 5 Pictures

Here's my truck BEFORE the packing...

Shiny.

Here's one of my drums being filled with shirts...

While rushing to pack I was reminded that I have razors in my bathroom bag…

Super glue stings. It also kinda works.

Here's the back of my truck packed almost full (notice how bright the sun is)...

Here’s me in my truck… 

Will I need storage?

Keep Moving Airborne

The last couple days have been a rush. A rush to get everything packed, a rush to get it in the truck, a rush to decide what stays and what goes, what to keep and what to let go of  (or ask friends to hold onto). It seemed like there was no way we were going to be able to get everything into the truck. There was NO WAY we were going to be able to fit both my clothes AND my framed art ontop of all of the drums—And dishes?!...Forget it. There was no way we were going to be able to do it without a trailer. There was no way we were going to be able to pack everything AND clean AND still be out by Thursday morning. No way.

Absolutely, NO WAY!!!

Somehow we got it all done. Sure, some stuff had to go to friends and sure it was hard letting go of some things, but anytime I’d start to get hung up on something, I would remember the phrase from the Army, “Keep moving Airborne.” This was the phrase most of the guys in charge used when things started to suck. It was kind of an acknowledgement that, “Yes, this sucks. But saying it sucks isn’t going to make it any easier. If it’s raining, saying it sucks isn’t gonna make it dry. If it’s hot, saying it sucks isn’t gonna cool things off so forget it. Just keep moving and get it done.” If not, there’s no way we could have finished cleaning the living room, the bedroom, the bathroom, the kitchen with a thousand shelves.

Somehow, we got it all done. And in case you’re wondering, we did get the clothes in there. And the art. And…one set of dishes.

Zombies and the Exit Letter

Second to fighting off the Zombie Apocalypse, the Exit Letter can be a very difficult thing to do. Unless of course you work at the worst place in the world and absolutely hate everything . In which case…well, you probably wouldn’t write a letter. 

But, if you did happen to make a few friends at work and the day comes for you to open Outlook, you may find yourself struggling with how to start and what to say. Sure, you’ve got to be professional, but as soon as it starts to sound fake or phony, people will know. Also, this may be the last shot you'll have at saying thanks to all the people you’ve enjoyed working with over the last couple months or years—the ones who stayed late and walked out to the garage with you long after the sun had gone down. The ones who would hold you tight when things really got ugly and would tell you everything's gonna be alright because they're “ready” for when the Zombie Apocalypse kicks off.

Here are a few guidelines to keep in mind:

1. If you’re not going to say something nice, don’t say anything.
2. Drop names...of GOOD people.
3. Keep it genuine, but keep it short.
4. No whining about the past. Focus on what's ahead.
5. Let them know how to reach you.

Of course, feel free to add any personal touches, but be careful. Your friend may not want everyone knowing he has a flame thrower under the desk with the safety button OFF so in his words, “When the zombies start movin’ in, we’ll be ready”.