Month: July 2007

Walking around my neighborhood last night, I passed a cute girl sitting in a parked truck. Her head whipped around when I passed into her peripheral vision.

“Did I startle you?” I asked her, while still walking.

She called out the window, “No, I thought you were my friend.”

“Nope,” I said over my shoulder, still walking away, but slowly. “We haven’t met yet.”

She laughed. “Not yet?”

I called back over my shoulder, “Not sure I trust you, though. You’re the one lurking in a parked car!”

The “continental breakfast” at the Copper Queen was actually really good. Normally the hotel tosses out some bagels and cheap muffins and a pot of coffee. The Copper Queen put out an actual spread: scrambled eggs, sausage, muffins, French toast, waffles, fruit, yogurt, you name it, they had it. Oh, no bacon, at least not that I saw.

And their free wifi was broken, but the desk staff didn’t know anything about it so I was kinda screwed there, which partially explains why I didn’t post that night. Sorry.

…and then I was off.

804 miles, per teh google. I started out around 10:00 AM. It was hot. I stopped several times for gas. Funny, but the cheapest gas I got was in Portland (had to return the rental with a full tank).

Really, nothing much happened. I didn’t have many interactions with people. Had dinner in Boise – and I broke my self-imposed rule about “no corporate food” by eating at Wendy’s.

Honest. Nothing much happened. I just drove and drove. The views driving along the Snake River were amazing – that valley is phenomenal. I was also impressed, once again, by the change in scenery as I crossed from Idaho to Oregon. The mountains on the Oregon side of the border take my breath away.

But… yeah. Nothing much happened. I listened to my music. I drove. I thought, and thought some more. I texted Tracy when I could.

Nothing. Nope. Just drove. Really. Why are you looking at me like that?

Oh… right. Yeah, I did stop in Wells, Nevada, briefly. Is that what you’re thinking of?

I was just curious about the legal brothel there. Had a beer. Corona. They had no limes. Talked to Kat, the bartender, a tall older lady. Looked in the book – pictures of all the employees. Just curious. Talked to Sophie, one of the employees. Got a tour; saw the heart-shaped bed, the hot tub. Ended up in Sophie’s room – that place is really a maze, you know?

I guess most of the girls were still waking up, which seemed odd to me ’cause it was after 1:00 in the afternoon.

Sophie was nice, y’know. But she seemed a bit frustrated when I just repeated myself: “I think I’m just going to finish my beer and be on my way.” I said it several times. She kept wanting to “party” but I had a long drive still ahead of me.

Eventually Sophie brought me back to to the front room. Kat came out and asked me if I wanted to sit with any of the other girls. I repeated myself about finishing my beer. Kat nodded, looked away, and said, “So… you just came in for the experience, then?”

I nodded.

She said, “Well, if you’re from another state, it probably seems odd. But here, it’s just another business, y’know?”

I thought about all the strip clubs in Oregon, but I spoke words of agreement. I tossed a tip on the bar, feeling a little guilty for taking up their time (but not that guilty), and I got in my car.

Then I was on my way again. Just wanted to be home.

I just wanted to point out, for anyone reading this blog who isn’t already aware, that Google Maps are now one-hundred and seventy-three times more useful by adding the ability to click-and-drag routes on the map.

If that explanation doesn’t do it for you, just try it. Get driving directions from somewhere to somewhere else. Don’t like that route? Wanted one that took a right turn at Albuquerque, just like Bugs and Daffy always did? Well, move your cursor over the blue line of the route, click, and drag that line over to Albuquerque. Watch as the route shifts and curves over the possible routes, in real time, as you drag.

The time and distance updates in real-time, too, both in the left sidebar, and on the pop-up tool tip on the map itself, by your cursor.

It’s amazing. Really. It’s been amazingly helpful to me on my road trip.

OK, back to trip updates, and then back to “normal” blogging (whatever that is ’round here).

After waking up, checking out of the Motel 6 (I was hoping for a glimpse of my noisy neighbors but no such luck), I headed out to find breakfast. I found it at the MGM Grand Buffet. So good.

First plate: bacon, potatoes, blintzes, sausage, coffee and a mimosa.

Second plate: pancakes with blueberries and whipped cream, corn beef hash, more bacon and sausage, and fresh pineapple.

I so wanted to have a third plateful, but I just couldn’t. Also, they were closing up in preparation for lunch.

Why did everyone around me keep asking to borrow my catsup? Couldn’t they just get their own? I guess I only cared because it was older guys asking me. If they had been female I wouldn’t have cared.

Waddling away from the trough, I did a little shopping, trinkets for my friends. I considered buying some Las Vegas-themed “decorative glassware” for my favorite dancer, Sharai… but ended up getting her a Vegas-decorated cigarette case instead. I hope she hasn’t quit smoking since I’ve last seen her…

And just like that, I was pretty much done with Vegas. I hadn’t done everything I’d wanted to, but I was tired of doing the stuff that I’d done, if you can follow that. I wanted to be on the open road, and just like that, I was driving north on I15, with not much of a plan.

Teh Google says that the shortest route from Vegas to Portland is north on US 93, to Boise, then west along I84. Since that route would take me back along a route I had driven before, but then veer off into fresh territory, I decided to go home that way. Bonus was that it would add another state to the trip. I figured I’d stop somewhere around Ely, or maybe Elko, then do the rest of the drive the next day or two.

That stretch of highways has terrible cell phone coverage, by the way. While I was out of cell phone range, Tracy was falling out of love, and I felt like a bad friend for not being there for her.

What I did get to do was think, mostly. I thought about all sorts of things. I thought about my passivity. Although that’s not entirely an accurate description of myself. I can be passive, but then I’ll suddenly burst forth and do something all at once. I’m kinda like tectonic plates: I’ll slowly build up pressure along a fault line, then release all that energy in one burst. Often (but not always) destructive. Is there a way for me to moderate those internal pressures, or at least release them in smaller events?

Who knows? The downside of being an over-thinker is that there is no end to the questions or the thinking. It just goes on and on. In fact, the other-thinking may be the slow grinding that builds up pressure over time. It’s just… it’s just what I do.

I stopped in Rachel, Nevada, home of Little A’Le’Inn, so called because Rachel is right on the edge of the Nevada Air Force Flight Test Center, more popularly known as Area 51. Other than the cheesy souvenirs, I saw no aliens or alien space craft in Rachel, nor along the Extraterrestrial Highway.

And, once again, I found myself driving near Lunar Crater, a feature that’s about 9 miles off the main highway, via a dirt road. It feels about as remote as any other place I’ve ever been; though how remote could it be if there’s a bench there? Still, standing on the rim of the crater, I felt like I could see for miles and miles in all directions, and I saw nothing but myself and the desert. It was hot (the car told me it was 110° F), the sky was blue, the ground was tan, the mountains brown.

Weighing on my mind for this segment of the drive was what I would call in someone else a spiritual urge – the desire to submit myself to something greater than myself, as a way of bringing myself into balance, or maybe accord, with everything around me. Not believing in anything other than the material universe, though, my options for submission were limited. I didn’t trust very many other humans, for instance, and most certainly not those who have, by hook or by crook, been given authority over others. They’re just humans like me, weak and strong in the same measure, and not much greater (or lesser). Ah… but the universe itself, and the forces and processes that have brought me to this point, looking into a very real abyss… A wind would come and go, and when it was there it was as loud as any music I listen to; and when it went, there was an absolute silence broken only by myself.

So alone. Just me, and the crater.

Almost without thinking about it, I set down my camera, sat down on the bench, and pulled off my shoes and socks. The sand was hot, very hot, but bearable. My feet are tough, though softened by civilization they still retain their adaptive thick skin. I stood. I pulled off my hat and my sunglasses, and I could still see without their protection. My head felt better, actually, without the hot felt fedora. I reached up and pulled off my t-shirt, exposing my hairy chubby chest to the warm sun and occasional wind. I unbuckled my pants and pulled them off. I was naked.

I was naked, on the rim of a lonely crater, in the hot desert. I looked around, sure that someone would come around the trail, or up the dirt road on the side of the feature. There was no one there. I was as alone in reality as I often felt in my head. I was as naked in reality as I often felt among others.

I danced.

At first I felt silly, but then I realized that no one could see me, and if they couldn’t see, they couldn’t care one way or another. If anyone approached I would see or hear them long before they reached me. Slowly, to the music in my head at first, and then to the music of the desert, I danced.

I stopped long enough to put my hat on, and take a picture. A private picture, just for me, no one else, to remind me what I can do when no one is around. Character, you see, is what you are in the dark. What do you do when no one is watching, when you have nothing to prove and you are your own question and your own answer?

My answer is that I dance, naked, on the rim of the abyss. Metaphor made very literal, and documented for no one but myself.

After a time, I have no idea how long, 5 minutes or an hour, I dressed again, got back in the car, and, worriedly, drove back to the highway, concerned again that the rental would crash, or break, or get a flat tire or something. How silly those worries are, and yet so real in the moment.

I drove north, to Ely, a town I’ve been in before. I saw several “No Vacancy” signs, just like last time, and I saw a lot of motorcycles, but not as many as last time. The Motel 6 was sold out, but the girl at the counter suggested there were rooms available in the Ramada Inn.

The Ramada Inn and Copper Queen Casino is, without a doubt, the cheesiest hotel I’ve ever stayed in. Lacquered wood panelling inside, a casino with an indoor swimming pool, mining equipment for decor… it just feels silly to me. And it was, without a doubt, the most expensive hotel of my trip, for just one room, single occupancy, for one night. But I paid the price happily. I was on vacation. What did it matter?

Oh, and the fact that it was, apparently, the last room available in town? That had nothing to do with anything.

That night my sister texted me, asking about Vegas. I replied that Vegas was fun but I wasn’t there anymore. She asked me if I planned to come to the family beach house in Lincoln City that week. I checked the calendar, and realized that today was Monday – and I was supposed to return the rental tomorrow, Tuesday! How had I lost such track of time? Or rather, why had I underestimated how long it takes to drive to Vegas and back when I’m by myself? I told my sister that I would not be back in time for the Fourth of July, my apologies, and then I set my mind to make the drive back in one day. 800+ miles, straight through, only stopping if I have to. I could do it. It would be fun…

I’m home. Drove over 800 miles yesterday. I’ve had the bare minimum amount of sleep (5 hours) to feel partially human again. I’m cursed – no matter how late I’m up the night before, I can’t sleep in later than 7:00-7:30a. I guess this is payback for all those years I was able to sleep in ’til 1:00-2:00p.

Updates later. Go look at the rest of my pictures.

I’ll explain this one later, too.

Left Fallon, NV around 10:00 AM. I don’t know. It’s kind of a blur. I remember stopping at the Safeway in town, wandering the aisles trying to find a liter bottle of water and an energy bar for breakfast. I wanted to conserve calories because I’ve been over-eating like crazy, and I wanted to stem the guilt I knew I’d feel when I got to Vegas and gorged on a delicious buffet. Frustrating, then, to not immediately find that cold liter of water, and there didn’t seem to be an energy bar in the entire store. Plus, some dude cut in line in front of me at the in-store Starbucks and that was the last straw. I left Fallon hungry and thirsty.

The next town, though, was on the other side of the Walker River Paiute Reservation, 40 miles away, in a town called Schurz.

I discovered that the Malibu loses its breath over 100 MPH. Or maybe it was the heat; it never dropped below 95 all day yesterday, on my 386 mile blast down US-95 through the Nevada desert.

But around 70-85 MPH, it did just fine. Don’t look at me like that – the speed limit is 70 for most of that stretch, and I used the cruise control to my advantage, setting it about 9 MPH over the speed limit, and pushing it only when I was passing. I slowed to the speed limit when driving through towns (which caused some frustration for those behind me, but, whatever). I saw at least three folk pulled over by state troopers, and saw several more cops just out ‘n’ about, but I did not get pulled over. I’m either lucky or doing something right. I prefer the latter.

I wanted to take some pictures of the amazing mountains and desert but I’m disappointed in my camera. Sure it takes decent snapshots but I want something more. The scenes will have to live in my memory: the coyote panting in the shade of a guard rail; the burro tied up to a sign advertising burro rides; the half-dozen legal brothels I passed, each one just a collection of trailers set off the main highway, with friendly signs proclaiming their wares; or, of course, the natural colors, gray, brown, red, yellow, of the mountains.

Everywhere I saw those mountains, I was reminded of the tail-fin inspired mountains in Pixar’s “Cars”. I became Lightning McQueen. Every semi-truck I passed was Mack. I kept hoping to see “Doc” Hudson pacing me, taunting me…

In Schurz, I stopped to get water, but the store was sold out, except for gallon bottles. Hard to drink from a gallon bottle while driving. I bought a 7-Up and some beef jerky. As I was pulling out of the parking lot, I glanced to my left and saw an ancient, almost toothless old man, eyes hidden behind thick prescription glasses, so shrunken and shriveled and tanned to within an inch of being actual leather, his head barely rising above the windowsill of the car in which he sat.

When he saw me, his mouth opened into a wide, but empty, grin, and he waved wildly. I smiled and waved back.

There’s so little to tell of the rest of the drive. I got gasoline ($3.19/gallon for regular unleaded) in Beatty, where it was 110° F and I was afraid I’d literally burst into flame. And I drove. And I didn’t detour or otherwise stop unless I had to.

Around 4:20 PM, I entered Clark County. Shortly after, I could see the top of the Stratosphere at the edge of the horizon. I’ve been to the top – the very top – several times.

I tried the Rio first, because I had a thought to see two of my intellectual heroes, Penn & Teller, perform. Rio was sold out – at least to a walk-in without a reservation. I tried the Riviera next. Also sold out, but the lady at the counter suggested I use the house phone to reach reservations and try that way. I did try, but the phone voice mail hell literally ran me in circles and I gave up. I walked to the Vegas Hilton – also sold out.

So that’s why I ended up at the Motel 6, on the second story facing the airport, in a non-smoking room that smells heavily of cigarette smoke. Shortly after dragging my stuff in and getting on the (pay) internet, the couple next door started going at it. Loudly. Hey, that’s the kind of free entertainment one does not get in the fancy-schmancy hotels on the Strip, or even downtown! And luckily it was the kind of sex that turns me on…

After showering off the road and changing, I drove to the self-parking at the Mirage, parked the car, and wandered around. So many people, even late on a Sunday night. Not Times Square crowded, but close. And all the amazing people-watching… tourists from all over. I kept expecting to run into anyone I knew, but that didn’t happen. I kept hoping to run into someone famous, but that didn’t happen.

What did happen, you ask? Come on, now, you know the rule: What happens in Vegas… stays in Vegas.

I've been to the top.

Yesterday was mostly a blur. After checking out of my motel (and having to go back because I’d left my atlas in my room – what is it with me forgetting my map? Oh, and the maid lied to me and tried to keep it but I spotted it on her cleaning cart), I pointed my car (what I thought was) east to find Crater Lake.

20 minutes later I realized that the sun was in the wrong part of the sky and turned around. Didn’t lose too much time.

The drive along scenic route 138 (the Rogue-Umpqua Scenic Byway) was fun driving. The Malibu is a fun car to drive – who’d’ve thunk it? It’s in need of a slight alignment because I had to correct for steering a bit, but it had enough power to make passing a pleasure and not a fright. Best I did was just touching 100 MPH (indicated) on a fairly straight uphill section. Maybe I can do better in the desert today on my blast down to Vegas…

Crater Lake was awesome. I got some pictures (I just dropped them in that gallery – haven’t had a chance to make ’em pretty or weed out the bad ones)… but I didn’t stay too long. The cafe wasn’t open, and I didn’t want to wait to eat in the lodge. Flirted with the girl at the gift shop where I bought a bottle of water and a shot glass (I collect those). Or maybe she flirted with me – she caught me looking at her while I was waiting in line and she smiled back at me and asked me if I needed help with anything. She was cute – a Latina. Her nametag read “Eda”. Ah, if only I hadn’t been in a hurry…

Then I drove hard south, along Klamath Lake to Klamath Falls. Road trip rules: no corporate food. So I stopped at a diner called Blondie’s that bragged about their homemade buns. I ordered the smaller cheeseburger (1/4 lb) because I seriously wanted to watch what I’m eating on this trip. Imagine my surprise when the woman dropped a burger the size of my skull on the table, along with enough fries to feed a small South American village.

After lunch I tried to find some wifi but the only coffee shop within walking distance I could find that had it (after asking around and looking very much like a tourist) was closing in 15 minutes. “Seriously? You’re closing in 15 minutes?” The woman confirmed that and seemed puzzled by my shock. I guess I’m weird for thinking that closing at 3 PM on a Saturday afternoon is strange. Maybe she had a hot date?

But I had enough wifi to check my route, and I texted Tracy to tell her that if I drove straight through I could be in Vegas that night! What I didn’t know at the time was that I had mis-Googled. I was 5 hours away from Reno, not Las Vegas. I have no explanation for that – wasn’t that tired, full stomach, plenty of coffee in me. I must have been in a hurry because the shop was closing.

It was in the 80s in K-Falls, and for the rest of the day – including the night time – the temperature never dropped below 79° F that I could see. Yeah, it’s hot, and it’s only going to get hotter as I head south through the freakin’ desert.

In Alturas I stopped for gas ($3.39/gallon for regular unleaded) and snacks and realized that there was no way I’d be in Vegas unless I drove all night. I didn’t want to drive all night, so I decided to stop around Reno.

In Reno I realized that I don’t really like Reno and, after applying some more caffeine, I kept going for a bit. I finally got a room in Fallon, NV.

I still have 386 miles to go – assuming I hit the road in the next hour, don’t make any detours, and just stop for meals, I’ll see the shiny lights of Sin City around 6 PM. So… probably later than that, because I like making detours and eating.