I know it took me forever to post this but suspense is everything in this biz.
So where were we? Oh yeah, middle o’ nowhere Colorado with no car, no money, and the flu. If this doesn’t sound familiar read this and this. We spent the night at a certifiably sketchy motel in Limon, Colorado. I remember very little of Limon except that it is pronounced like “lime-in” and you can buy Frisbees shaped like cow-pies. Continue reading
Our mechanic at the Firestone was a boy named Noel. He might have been twenty but probably not. He had a wispy goatee and was prone to sighing and excessive blinking. When he opened his mouth, strings of saliva connected his top teeth to his bottom and he stumbled on his words. He also couldn’t fix the car. Continue reading
The funny part was when the muffler fell off somewhere on I-70 in Indiana during a snow storm. It was one of those snow storms where everything is grey–the ground, the sky, the air. I was driving, because, as it would turn out, everything bad happened while I was driving. And it was funny because crawling under your car in a slush puddle on the side of a major interstate is one of two things and funny is preferable. Continue reading
Calafate to San Martin de los Andes, 2,000 kilometers on Argentina’s Ruta Nacional Cuarenta (40). Dry, dusty prairie. Dust storms. Nothing but prickly grass all the way to the horizon.Winds so fast we could put Sparky (the car) in neutral and still be going 120 km/hr. Continue reading