Truck With No Doors: The Revenge

When last we left our intrepid travelers, they were heading westbound on I-80 from Salt Lake City. Rest assured, dear readers, that in the intervening two and a half years the trio did make it back to Sacramento intact (more-or-less) and that Chris and Bino had many Good Times and Bad Decisions besides.

But on April 16, 2011, it came time for Chris to relocate across the country yet again. The roar of the engine of the Truck With No Doors was heard for miles around as it awoke from its slumber, and Bino gleefully piled into the passenger side to accompany his friend on another trek across the American Situation--this time to New Orleans.

The trip got off to a slow start yesterday. We got out to the SF bay area about an hour later than intended for a final brunch with Sarah Harriman and an old friend and UCSC classmate of ours, Alex. Miles, Nicholas, you were missed.

Finally, at about 1pm we got on the road in the direction of our first objective: Flagstaff, AZ. With only a brief stop at a Sonic Burger in Bakersfield, it was less than 13 hours later that we had chewed up all of the intended pavement.

Strangely enough, it has been years since I have been to Flagstaff. Despite spending almost every Christmas in Phoenix, I seem to regularly turn down the offer to go "up to the snow". In the light of the next day, I decided that the place looks like some kind of fusion of Santa Cruz and Placerville with New Age bookstores alongside vegan cafes, all occupying vintage, Old Westey-type buildings. After a leisurely lunch at Macy's (the aforementioned cafe, not the clothing store) we again found ourselves unable to get on the road until 1.

Dinner was family-style dining at the Frontier in Albuquerque where we also picked up some coffee and supplies for the long night ahead--we had big plans to make it all the way to Wichita Falls. After passing through many small towns such as Clarendon (home of the It'll Do Motel and the Nuttin' Fancy Diner) we rolled into the parking lot of the Motel 6 outside of Wichita Falls at 5am local time--only to be turned away by the attendant. Heads held high, we traveled around the corner to America's Best Value Inn and found dubious accommodations therein. The lengths of buildings face into a large, weed-choked courtyard containing a lonely barbecue-on-wheels, and a small playground set that I'm sure no child has ever truly had fun on. Inside our room, a stained and burn-marked love seat block off access to the door leading to the next unit. Upon opening the bathroom door we were greeted by a solitary housefly and a paper banner, limp and askew around the toilet seat, assured us that it was "sanitized."

Eastern, Central, Mountain, Pacific

And now, through the power of technology, I give you: Yesterday's post, today!

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We were woken up in Rock Springs, Wyoming by a call from my embattled boss, who is holding the project together in my absence. I got hungry and moseyed over to eat a bratwurst at the Loaf n' Jug. Of all the strange gas station names we've seen while crossing the Situation, "Loaf n' Jug" has been by far the strangest. Sinclair gas station is another oddity, as their logo is a green brontosaurus, which Bino pointed out could just be truth in advertising.

Fun fact: The entire state of Wyoming has about the same population as the city of Sacramento. The Sacramento metropolitan area has roughly FOUR TIMES the population of Wyoming.

We decided to get lunch in Salt Lake City, which was about three and a half hours away. Utah is a beautiful state. I've never been anywhere but the airport, and I was shocked. We took so many pictures on the drive, it's going to take me some time to sort through them all.

In Salt Lake City, I saw a shop called "Beer Nuts", which is a supply store for home beer brewing enthusiasts. I wasn't expecting that, but I guess it makes perfect sense that there would be a lot of interest given the laws in Utah.

We had a lunch of curry and mango lhasis served by some kindly local Lamanites, then headed back out on the road, hoping to make it to Reno or thereabouts.

I think I should explain the name of our blog. The Helman-Ferrier wedding made ingenious (and more than willing) use of volunteer assistance, assigned into small groups. In a rash moment, someone assigned Bino and I to a two-man team in charge of beverage acquisition. Before long, it was decided that this was an extremely volatile combination sure to lead to trouble, and that maybe we should be separated. We weren't having it. But the story took on a life of it's own, and we imagined that though Bino and I would initially set out with good intentions, we would soon lose focus, steal a truck, smash the doors off, and ride into the night. "Truck with no doors" has become shorthand for awesomely irresponsible behavior, and captures the optimistic and adventurous spirit with which we left the East Coast. I guess "eatin' a brat at the Loaf n' Jug" could be a similar shorthand.

Truck, Truck, Goose

One thing I can say about staying in the Motel 6 every night is that you occasionally find remnants of some previous occupant's encounters with the American Situation. For instance, upon exiting the shower in the Omaha 6, I found that the steam had revealed a message previously scrawled in the condensation on the bathroom mirror. It read: "Deliver the pizza." It made me feel like, for a brief instant, I had gotten a glimpse into someone else's life and was able to see their frustrated, inebriated face in the mirror as they inexplicably cajoled the delivery person with a message that would never be read by the intended party.

So, lots of corn and plains happened between there and Laramie, Wyoming. We managed to catch most of the presidential debate on the radio. It took us several minutes of sifting as it seemed like the only news Nebraskans care about is sports. Otherwise, there was a solitary island of classic rock among an ocean of christian and country stations.

Upon arriving in Laramie, we discovered that the Motel 6 there was full up due to some kind of conference at the college, and the next one was a few hours down the road in Rock Springs. So, Paul made a phone reservation there and stopped to fortify himself with a sandwich.

It was at this point that I realized that I was in my friend Susan's current stomping grounds and I left her a message in the faint hope that she was down the road and free. I had pretty much given up hope on that possibility by the time we had rolled into Rock Springs. However, after a brief text/phone exchange, I discovered that not only did she live in Rock Springs, but her house was in fact only about THREE BLOCKS from the Motel 6. Some might call that fate. So, while Chris and Paul slipped off into unconsciousness, I slipped out and rode around town at five in the morning having a pleasant, if brief, time catching up with Susan.

In the parking lot of the full Motel 6, I discovered Wyoming's motto and had it later confirmed by Susan. "Wyoming: Where the trucks outnumber the people."

Omaha is Surprisingly Big

OK, this post was written yesterday. And no, we didn't make it to Salt Lake City last night, but this was serendipitous for a reason I will let Bino fill you in on.

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Woke up in Indiana and didn't care to hang around. On the way into Chicago, we passed a golf course that had been completely submerged in water, even though nothing else nearby was flooded. The requisite "water trap" and "par 600" jokes were made, then off we went. Chicago looks amazing and bears a more nuanced exploration. This time around, our only stop was the studio of Frank Lloyd Wright, which was located in a beautiful suburb of Chicago called Oak Park. It reminded us a little of Sacramento (Colonial houses, good tree canopy). The studio tour was booked up, so we took some pictures of the exterior and headed off in search of dinner.

Nearby, we found a "stuffed deep dish pizza" joint and had a pretty amazing meal. This thing was literally a pizza PIE. I wish I had taken a picture, but we were all too famished to capture the moment.

From there, we settled in and drove pretty much straight to Omaha, just inside the Nebraska border. Bino already covered the Forbidden Motel 6, so I won't go into that except to say that it was as strange as he described it. We consoled ourselves in the knowledge they would get such a tongue lashing on the blog that there would be no choice but to change their ways. Bino also discovered that our room contained an ashtray with a "No Smoking" sign stuck to the bottom (picture in the gallery).

Thanks for everything so far, Motel 6! You're like a friend that I hate but who did me a solid.

But yeah, Omaha is surprisingly big. It's wide and flat like LA (though maybe with fewer piercings).

Dude Badge update:
1. Stare At Corn For Six Hours - ACQUIRED!
2. Stay In A Different Motel 6 For 5 Consecutive Nights - 60% COMPLETE!
3. Complete All 50 Stunt Jumps - 0% COMPLETE!
4. Beat The Game Using Only The Pistol - ON TRACK!
5. Cross The American Situation - 50% COMPLETE! (Omaha Save Point Reached)

Checked the trailer this morning, and the contents have barely shifted. Per request, we've posted a picture of the fully packed trailer. That's the Dudemaster General standing next to his Sistine Chapel. Also included is a shot of the top front of the trailer, fairly dusted with dead moths, flies and mosquitoes. You're welcome, America.

Today, we drive. If we're feeling particularly punchy, we'll try and make it to Salt Lake City. More likely we'll fall apart somewhere along the Colorado/Wyoming border.

Motel 666

Lots of fun stuff in the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame. Iggy's duct-taped shorts, MJ's glove, Bowie outfits aplenty, "The Fly's" outfit, Joe Strummer's smashed guitar, Bjork's paper jacket...no pictures, though. Cameras not allowed inside. Don't worry,Dad--there were some Jerry Garcia guitars outside that I got some pics of, luckily.

Some local metal bands played in the lobby. Not sure if it's distressing or comforting that it was all the same middle-of-the-road stuff that one might find in Sacramento. Does that mean less competition to be original, or a sign that people want to hear conformity? On the whole, I left pretty inspired, though. Seeing interviews of Joe Strummer and Iggy Pop had a way of getting me in the mood to rock.

The next day got off on the wrong foot for me--and there's a pun in there. I was a little too eager to get on the road and just about ran over Paul's foot as he was getting into the car. Sorry, Paul. I think I at least partly redeemed myself by navigating downtown Chicago with the trailer, though. I wish we could have gotten out and walked around as it has been about 20 years since I've been here.

Oddities on the drive out of Illinois and across Iowa: A sign that Chris read as "Custard-Filled Butter Burgers" (later Googled to be clarified as "Culver's Frozen Custard & Butter Burgers"--slightly less ridiculous, but still eyebrow-raising.) Also, we passed what claimed to be the largest truckstop in the world. We weren't quite on the ball enough to get a picture of it, though. And corn. Corncorncorncorncorncorncorncorncorn.

Finally, in the wee hours of the morn, we began to look for a Motel 6 to crash at. Paul had referenced the Complete Tome of Motel 6 and directed us off the freeway, expecting to still have several minutes of surface streets to navigate before we arrived. But, lo! Just off of the exit was a Motel 6 not listed in the Grand Manual! We thought we had hit jackpot and turned off course to bring the good ship Volvo into this uncharted harbor. But, wait! Like some desert mirage, or one of Tantalus' torments, or an area in Zelda that you can see but can't get to without the grapnel, an actual entrance to this glamer-induced Motel eluded us. After several minutes of dead-end roads and construction detours, we threw our hands in the air and continued on to our original target. If I were to ask the desk clerk here about the other Motel 6 that we couldn't get into, I would expect him or her to suddenly go pale and tell me "that Motel 6 burned to the ground 40 years ago...right after those awful murders..."

Encounters with the American Situation

Last night's Motel 6 had no internet access (something unspecific was broken), so I have no choice but to downgrade them to a Motel 3 3/5. At any rate, this post was written yesterday but could not be posted until this very minute. Please call corporate and voice your complaints.

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The day began in Cleveland, Ohio ("Ohio: May all your dreams be covered in Hollandaise!"). After a nice breakfast of dinner around lunchtime, we headed for downtown Cleveland and the Rock and Roll History Museum. We couldn't find a gas station, but were assisted by a Good Samaritan. Actually, let's call him a Chaotic Good Samaritan, since in the process of leading us to the gas station he ran a red light and instructed us to turn left when it was clearly illegal. At the gas station, we discovered that there is now a beverage on sale that combines Bud Light and Clamato. Great, let's take two beverages that shouldn't exist and combine them into a new beverage that should be illegal, and then sell it in giant 24 oz cans. This is like the hippogriff of hangover delivery systems.

The museum was a pretty good time--lots of donated paraphernalia and audiovisual displays. I recommend it if you're already in Cleveland for another reason. Probably the most interesting thing is that they do a lecture series in the evenings, which is entertaining and well done. Unfortunately, we had to get back on the road and so only caught a few minutes of their presentation on Simon and Garfunkel.

The day ended around 4AM in Indiana ("Indiana: If you lived here, you'd be used to the smell by now."). This Motel 6 has pergo floors, so we are feeling well pampered. Dad pointed out that every Motel 6 is located in a part of town that looks the same in every state. At 4AM, this felt incredibly significant and held my attention for like two minutes.

Cleveland and Bust

Though we originally planned to leave early on Tuesday, there was enough packing left to keep us busy until about four. I don't think you could fit more in that trailer if you had a trash compactor. We grabbed a final slice for the road and headed for Cleveland, making it to the GWB just in time for rush hour.

Somewhere around the Poconos, just a hair after ten, the gas light came on. The first gas station accepted my credit card, but only pumped a grand total of forty cents' worth. The girl behind the register did her best to pretend she couldn't hear us and kept counting out. We headed down the road, now "concerned".

The TomTom found a 24-hour gas station called Sheetz (as in "three sheets to the wind"??? Inappropriate!) about ten miles away and we refueled the tank, as well as our flagging confidence that we would one day arrive in Sacramento. Beef Jerky (Mesquite flavored), cold medicine and coffee were also in order. Right, the cold medicine. So, either saddle fatigue has nasal congestant symptoms, or I've got a cold. Whatever. I'm going to starve it for attention and see if that works.

We reached the Motel 6 outside Cleveland around 4:30AM and had gins all around (not my idea). The room is strangely huge, maybe because it's on the corner). This morning, I learned from CNN that it is National Stay At Home Week. Seriously. Man, could we have planned this better?? I guess we'll call it a wash since I skipped all those National Drive Across The Country Weeks.

Today, we hit the Rock and Roll History Museum (future home of Bino's sunglasses), then drive to Chicago.

New pictures in the album!