The Humble Skeptic

Moving to wagg.com...

2010-09-17T12:57:00.001-07:00

Hello...

Just a quick note that I've moved this blog to wagg.com where I can have more control over it.

See you there...

Back in VT... and a story about road animals..

2010-04-23T11:05:00.000-07:00

So, I'm back in my unsold condo, surrounded by boxes and bags and... I guess I should unpack? I have no idea. Even though the house is on the market, I'm going to take things slow. I'm tired, this isn't fun, and I feel like watching TV for a change.

That said, I would like to tell about the different animal encounters I had on my most recent trip across the country. If you are a sensitive animal lover, I suggest you leave this blog post now. Karen, that means you. I mean it.

The first of any note occurred near Denver airport, soon after I had a nice time with Paperskater (Susie from the cruise) I was on a ramp that led to this bizarre "pay your toll by license plate thing." Oh, brief side note... my license plate wasn't visible because the tail gate was down, so I'll be super impressed if I actually get a bill or something. Anyway, back to the animal encounter...

As I was rounding the curve, the road filled with creatures the size of beanie babies. At first I thought something had spilled out of a truck or something, and then I realized what I was seeing: about fifty prairie dogs crossing the roadway en masse. I noticed that they had holes very close to the sides of the road, and sure enough, they were road savvy. They left a gap big enough for my truck to go through, and then continued the migration. Casualty count: 0.

(Yes, the dramatic rodent in this famous clip IS a prairie dog.)

Next, while heading into Nebraska, a shadow passed over the car... and stayed for a while. I thought I was being followed by a plane... perhaps a "bear in the air" for anyone old enough to remember the 70's, but in fact, it was an American Bald Eagle. It was just soaring there as it headed east along the highway, just like me. It was probably looking for road kill. Ben Franklin was famously opposed to choosing this bird as the symbol of a new nation because of its scavenging habits. He preferred the Turkey, which he thought more dignified. All things considered, I'm fine with having the eagle on the seal and the turkey on my plate.

In Chicago, I encountered a house cat with a rather unusual behavior. When she first saw me, she approached in that casual "hey, a new person.... meh" way that cats have. I knelt down and held out my hand, allowing her to come to me. I gave her the standard chin rub and few strokes on the head, and she seemed grateful. But the SECOND I stopped, she hissed and took a swipe at me. I later learned that her name was Sidney Vicious, and that this, in fact, was her modus operandi. I have no idea about cat psychology, but I suspect this cat needed some sort of therapy maybe involving a shaver and some conductive gel. And yet I feel affection for her and her owner.

And of course there were the deer. Not so many, and not so lively. Just a couple here and there lying by the side of the road. I figure that automobiles have replaced wolves as the major predator these days, and having nearly totaled two vehicles this way, I have an appreciation for the eficacy of hunting.

In Ohio, I saw something that took me a while to identify. It was a large black pile of rotten flesh and blood-matted fur on the shoulder. I analyzed the mental snapshot in my head trying to find a pattern until something finally clicked: bear-muzzle. It was a dead black bear of decent size. I believe that's the first one I've seen dead on the road (though I have seen them in my back yard), and somehow I'm amazed it was just left there to rot. Sure, I expect deer and domestic animals to be ignored to some extent, but somehow the novelty of hitting a bear makes me think that something would have been done. By the way, unless I'm mistaken, if you hit a bear (or anything else) in Vermont, you're allowed to take it home and eat it. I have eaten road kill moose, and it was delicious.

This is where it starts getting sad. I passed a farm house (this was actually in Northern NY, but it fits best in the story here) and kids were swinging on a play set in the yard. There was a low white picket fence next to the guardrail, and in front of the guardrail was a dead house cat. It had gray and white fur, and it still looked soft and "pettable," if that makes any sense, though the animal was quite deformed from whatever impact it has sustained. Of course I don't know the history, but I could only imagine one scenario and I wondered if those kids would spend the rest of the day looking for their lost pet. And this is one of the reasons kids should have pets. They will inevitably learn important life lessons.

Like this one.

I was in Indiana about 100 miles from the Illinois border when I noticed the cars on the opposite side swerving madly. I immediately canceled the cruise control and scanned the roadway for danger, when a shape in the median caught my attention. It was a black lab, intently sniffing grass and weeds and completely oblivious of the speeding cars whizzing past her. I was marveling that in this dense traffic she had made it that far... when I saw the golden retriever on the opposite shoulder. Clearly an older dog, I caught sight of her just as she caught sight of her companion. She bolted across the highway, making it to the middle lane before being struck by a Toyota Corolla at about 70MPH. Her instantly lifeless body rolled and slid across the highway like a car with a blow engine... seeming to move backwards as it passed a variety of vehicles undergoing evasive maneuvers.

I, of course, was going 70MPH in the opposite direction, so these cars and I were traveling at the equivalent of 140MPH away from each other. I was at the exact right place to see this unfold. And the very last thing I saw was the black lab looking at her companion and taking a step forward towards the onrushing traffic.

For a moment, I considered stopping and then I called 911 to report the incident. I had absolutely no illusions of saving the black lab or any other dogs that might have been there... after all, just because I had seen two dogs doesn't mean there weren't more. But this was a major traffic hazard and someone could get seriously injured. And this leads me to two thoughts.

1) What on Earth were two traffic-naive dogs doing on the highway miles from the nearest house or business? I can only speculate, but my unsupported conclusion is that some human somewhere failed them completely.

2) A message to all the swerving cars.... DON'T. Yes, your instinct will be to avoid man's best friend on the highway, but unless the animal is large enough to cause you to lose control of the vehicle (deer, moose, bear) please... hit it, especially if you're in heavy traffic like this. The driver of the Toyota Corolla who hit the golden retriever probably feels terrible that this happened, but whoever that was did EXACTLY THE RIGHT THING. It may seem cruel, but in the end it is not worth risking human life to save an animal in the road. If you find yourself in this situation and can keep your wits about you, drive straight ahead and hope for the best. Swerving is likely to kill you and the others around you, and you have no idea what the animal will do anyway; it might very well run into your swerve path.

So there's my animal story from the road. I have a tale of three dogs that I might tell some other time, but in many ways it's sadder than this one, and I don't feel up to it just yet.

Location:Highland Rd,Underhill,United States

Just a quick note from Cozad, Nebraska

2010-04-13T23:40:00.000-07:00

The last time I was in Cozad, Nebraska was about 1990, when my folks gave me an old 1984 Civic Wagon (ironically marketed as the "Wag-O-Van" for late models), and I was driving it to Salt Lake City.

A very good, but now estranged friend of mine named Lora Duda, though her name changed through marriage in the 90's, claimed that Cozad was the strangest place she'd ever been. She described an odd scene in a gas station (it's still there) where the clerks, at about 3AM, were hiding under the counter, and when she went in to pay for gas, they looked all embarrassed. In retrospect it seems pretty clear what was going on.

On my first trip here, I did see something strange... an orange kitten, maybe 4 weeks old... completely flat and embedded in the pavement behind that same gas station. I've seen plenty of road kill, but this kitten was the width of a piece of paper, and it had a sort of "oh no!" look on it's face. While it was quite horrific, it was also beautiful in a way.

I'm staying in a room with a leaky ceiling, a full size refrigerator, and some really fast WiFi. I am content.

Diary 2

2010-04-10T12:10:00.000-07:00

I'm going to try posting a picture of the diary page just once more, and if it isn't legible, I'm going to have to abandon that idea and just type the contents. Besides, my handwriting is truly awful.

Old friend of mine's birthday today, Roger Martin. Haven't seen him in about 20 years.

Ok, let's digest this. My day was certainly "out of order." Broken stuff on randi.org occupied much of my time, and when I was delivering the trailer, one of the lights decided not to work. (I used it as a excuse to show the buyer how to fix the lights.) Oh, and the window on my car broke; not the glass, but the actuator. That meant $317 and five hours working from a Starbucks. So yeah, out of order.

I am great company? Nay. Not today.

"Loving, living, everything" has absolutely no meaning to me.

I think English is one of the most expressive languages. It borrows freely from other similar languages, and there are endless options for imparting color and cadence to ideas and instructions. Not to put spanish down, but I'm always amazed when I learn that they only have one word for things like turtle and tortoise (tortuga) or alligator and crocodile (cocodrilo). I really hope I'm wrong about that, but I've asked around, and spanish speakers have agreed.

That said, I'm sure learning English is an absolute bitch, and I'm glad I don't have to do it. It's a shame I never bothered to learn any other languages, spanish included.

I'm suffering from a wicked Cassandra complex lately, which explains my "avoid predicting the future" thing. I should start keeping a log of these "predictions" to see if I'm suffering from confirmation bias or not. I feel like Willy Wonka in this scene (Stop. Don't. Come back.):

Do I know more than I think? Yes, and I think everyone does, which is a bit recursive. I certainly don't know as much as I want to know though, and a great deal of what I know is incorrect.

Diary 1

2010-04-08T19:54:00.001-07:00

Here is the second page

of the simple brown diary. I'm sending this from my iPhone, so I don't know what the results will be. I'm finding the resolution of the images to be a bit of a challenge.

I imagine this will happen quite a bit, but today's entry seems terribly fitting. My day has been a U-turn. Literally. I'm almost certainly moving back to Vermont in the next couple of weeks.

Yeah, I did a face palm too. I'm beginning to respect my own tenacity as I continue to face these self-made hurdles and yet overcome them.

The primary reason for me moving to Las Vegas is gone, and though I really like living here and it's very affordable, economics are forcing me back. Not that it's terrible; I love Vermont and it will be easy to make the best of this, what I'm going to describe as an "opportuniy."

Today's quote, "if it's not there, there's nothing to find out" is dead on. It describes my Vegas adventure completely.

The animal part works too. A neighbors dog has been staring in my window and barking at me, but know she's gone home. Nice enough dog, but it's hard to work with fangs flashing in your periphery.

My hair looks great lately. :)

And yes, there are some that take advantage of my generosity. I wouldn't have it any other way.

I'd love some comments or suggestions. I hope to branch out a bit in the future.

I'm looking forward to saying that I'm from VT again.

-- Post From My iPhone

Location:Lindell Rd,Las Vegas,United States

TwitPics

2010-04-07T21:03:00.000-07:00

I realize that the twitpics you see on the right here lack context. I wish the actual tweet that went with them was also visible, but since I don't know a way to do that, I'll consider it an art project and you'll have to imagine why I took the pictures that I did.

Currently, there are cards featuring "escorts" who all seem to have stars instead of nipples, a duck, and in stark contrast, pictures of my kids. Yep, they ALL make sense, but without context, only the kids seem appropriate.

Follow me on twitter as jeffwagg, and you can have the context too. (Or just look here)

The Diary Project

2010-04-07T20:35:00.000-07:00

A very nice person gave me a diary for Christmas. This isn't your normal diary with blank pages... this one has options. The very first page, which isn't attached, is enclosed here. I'm going to try to fill it out and upload a scan/pic of each page as I do, and then try to relate what's on the page to what's going on in my life at the time. Here's the first pic:

Let's see how this relates. Of the first options, I chose a) like dollars because the other two didn't fit as well. I actually do like marzipan, and I am no longer a farmer, though I once was. Like many, I'm at a low point in my financial history, so some dollars would be nice right about now.

What I might need right now: I have to admit to feeling some guilt for not choosing 1. Giving blood is a wonderful thing, and I wish everyone did it. I fell out of the habit after being rejected three times in a row, but it's been a long time since I tried. I should get off my ass and do that. I don't like jokes, don't see the point of window shopping, need a relationship far more than a fling, don't have money for an auction, don't have a garden, can deal with dust, and there are too many fragrances here as it is. A group activity is always nice, but I think I'd like a majestic crest, even though they could simply be referring to a large-size of toothpaste.

At least I get to relax now.

I don't know how to play the piano, and though I often use my imagination, I think taking charge best applies to me. If there's no one driving the bus, I'm going to do it. This doesn't always serve me well, but I don't have the trust or patience to sit idly by.

The last paragraph seems awfully astrological, though I agree with most of it. Heck, I agree with all of it. At least I certainly hope that my constitution is stronger than I thought. I think I'm going to need "Old Ironsides" to get through these next few weeks.

Thanks for reading; more soon.

What Happened in Vegas?

2010-02-28T21:25:00.000-08:00

As the previous posts show, I was on a vision quest of sorts, trying to figure out where to go after a number of calamities befell me. Unfortunately, I got waylaid unexpectedly in Texas, and my trip got a bit bizarre.

For the record, I was trying to get to Barker's Ranch, in Death Valley. I had tried to get there before, but was stymied by a "dry fall," which is a nice name for a wall of rock that my rented Dodge Raider couldn't dream of handling. When I was finally ready to attempt it with the Land Rover, someone burned it down!

So, to hell with it. I drove the Land Rover out to what is known as "The Geologist's Cabin" in Butte Valley, and called that done. I actually participated in a bit of secret activity out there, which was fun, but I obviously can't tell you about it or I'd have to change the first adjective in this sentence.

I drove the SUV from Montreal, QC to Dallas, TX, and then to Las Vegas. THEN I took it to Long Beach, California. Since then, I've driving it from Las Vegas to Dallas and back, and again to Ventura, CA and back to Vegas.

But now, it's time to say good bye. Next week, I'm going to sell it. As much as I love it, I know a major repair is likely, and I can't afford to take the chance. I still have the Ridgeline, and while it doesn't have anywhere near the "soul" of the Land Rover, it has a whole lot more mechanical integrity.

And thus ends the "Land Rover" chapter of my life.

But a new one is starting. Stay tuned.

Several States Later...

2009-02-20T09:45:00.000-08:00

I'm writing this from Ruselville, AR. I honestly didn't think I'd be back in Arkansas this quicky... if ever... but here I am.

In the last few days, I've dropped coins in a fountain owned by Satan (in Birmingham, AL), purchased voodoo charms in Memphis, TN, and arm-wrestled two unknown women in a bar in Olive Branch, MS. (I'll have video of that event soon. Internet connections are a bit of a challenge at the moment.)

All of this has been a bit hard to predict. But considering the original purpose of my original journey, of which these recent trips are a diversion, I wonder how far I've gotten in my goal.

I've driven thousands of miles at this point. I have over a thousand left to go, and then I'll be in Las Vegas with two vehicles. I don't know exactly what I'll do with them. But the problem is, I'm not supposed to care. The whole point of this journey was to arrive at my final destination... and nothing else. I still haven't done that, and now I'm spending a lot of time thinking about what will happen after that moment. I am off mission.

So, I have a dilemma. Do I abandon the trip, postpone it, or go through with it knowing that there will be some dire consequences? I guess I'll decide that once I get to Las Vegas again in a couple of days.

In the meantime, I'll still be seeing and experiencing things along the way. Today takes me through Oklahoma, including a small town very few have every heard of, and then on to the flatland of Texas. Every mile could have a clue as to what I'm searching for.

Georgia on My Mind..

2009-02-19T11:24:00.001-08:00

This morning, the GPS shows me in East Oxford, AL. I went to the local Waffle House, which always seems to be within a 100' of every motel in the south, and ordered some generic breakfast food.

And then came the question I'd been waiting for all my life.

"Would you like grits with that?"

Now, I do actually know what grits are. They're corn soaked in lye (hominy) and then cooked into a gruel. However, knowing THAT is not quite the same as knowing grits.

"I've heard of grits, but I've never had them. How do you eat them?"
"Well, most people like to put honey on them."
Another waitress walked over and said "That's not true! You're supposed to use butter and salt on them!"
"No, that's what you put on cream of wheat."
"I haven't had cream of wheat since I was kid. I prefer grits, and the only way to eat them is with salt and butter. And pepper too. Lots of pepper."

I sat back in an amused fashion as the two negotiated the presentation of this, my christening into grit culture. Finally, they decided to give me the grits (for free, I might add), with everything I could possibly put on them.

I grew up with cream of wheat, and bemoan the loss of the artificially flavored Instant Banana Spice variety. That was prepared simply by adding water and milk. Grits, are a far more elaborate affair.

In front of me, I had a bowl with a lumpy tapicoa-esque subtance that seemed to be oozing oil or some other yellow liquid. Next to that was honey, strawberry jam, butter, salt and pepper. There was some tobasco there, but I don't think that was for the grits.

After careful consideration, I chose honey, and ate nearly the whole bowl. When I was finished, the first waitress came over.

"You chose the honey! How was that?"
"They were quite good, actually."
"You heat that Maybelle? He liked the grits with honey!"

I could see down the counter that the younger Maybelle was somewhat upset at this, and I wondered if I shouldn't order another bowl and eat them her way just to smooth things out.

Instead I tipped generously, and put "Walk The Line" on the jukebox as I headed back to the motel room.

As we approached Atlanta yesterday, Alison had the idea to get a bunch of flowers, sing the Beatles' "All You Need is Love" and hand them out to random strangers. She sent off a few texts and e-mails, and voila! Ten skeptics appeared at Underground Atlanta to support the event. Underground Atlanta was not the right place for this, and the weather was pouring rain, so we went off to The Thinking Man, a skeptical bar in Decatur. And the plan was carried out, and worked! All the bar patrons received us gratefully, all stopped to thank us on the way out, and I believe we seriously enhanced their evening. Alison has a short video of this even on her Facebook page. Thanks to everyone who came out on short notice!

It seems we'll try to do a similar thing in every state for the rest of the journey, however we're under time pressure now, and I'm not sure how that's going to work out. We shall see.

Where'd Jeff Go?

2009-02-18T09:31:00.000-08:00

So, those of you following my journey may have wondered if Amarillo swallowed me whole. I apologize for not keeping the site up, but I've been run ragged the last couple of weeks. I submit this as explanation.

My original plan was to drive to Dallas, pick up Alison and head to Vegas, and then on to my final destination. However, complications in Dallas threw me off schedule, and then we were up against a work trip to Florida. We did make it to Vegas, but with no time to spare before we had to fly to Florida.

In Florida, things got more complicated. Our flight was delayed such that we'd miss a connection. As there was family nearby the following weekend, we decided to stay over and spend time with them. That all went fine, but when it was time for us to take our flight back to Nevada, we decided to do something else.

We decided to drive.

There was one problem with this plan: we didn't have a car. I looked into renting a car, and we were on our way to Gainesville to pick one up, when we pass a CarMax. Sitting on the edge of the lot, was the exact car I was looking to purchase.

So I did. I walked in, figured some complicated financial arrangements, and now we're in Cordelle, GA in a 2007 Honda Ridgeline which will replace my Land Rover when this trip is finally over.

We'll be driving to Vegas over the next few days, and then I'll drop Alison off and drive to Vermont.

I'm not sure if I'll have time to finish my original journey before I go back to Vermont or not, but I'm going to keep updating things on the site in the meantime. I'll set the GPS tracking back up, and will keep updating the blog and posting twitpics. For those of you who are Alison's friends on FaceBook, she'll be posting her own updates as well. In fact, she'll probably have more as I will be doing the bulk of the driving and she'll have time to actually post from the car.

Unfortunately, I don't have a way to do a road cam. My camera is in the Land Rover, which is in the aiport in Las Vegas. I will see if I can rig something up though.

I apologize for how confusing this all is. It just goes to show that plans aren't always the most important thing.

Amarillo, TX

2009-02-05T23:55:00.000-08:00

I woke bright and early in Arlington, TX this morning, hopped into a fully loaded Land Rover and drove down the street to pick up my best friend Alison. She's moving to Las Vegas, and I'm giving her a hand by moving some of her stuff and towing her car. We'll be driving to Vegas over the next couple of days.

After a delightful lunch and museum tour at The Modern Art Museum of Fort Worth with Alison's family, we headed west and made it to Amarillo. One fun thing at the museum... you can eat one of the exhibits. Well, part of one. It's a river of candy, and you're invited to take a piece. Lime flavored.

This is a flat place. Flat. Flat like.. so flat it makes Kansas look like a challenging climb. So flat, that when you look towards the horizon, you can see the back of your head. So flat that you get the sensation that you lost a dimension on the highway somewhere.

Amarillo is also home to the Big Texan, and eatery with a famous dish: the 72 oz. steak. If you can finish it, it's free. Expect to be timed and video taped if you choose this entrée. We didn't stop there this time, but on a past trip, we observed a couple of good-sized guys fail miserably and waddle away from the table looking for a quite place to digest. They also have rattlesnake for the less adventurous.

I'm not sure where we're going to land tomorrow. It's late, I'm sleepy, and as long as we make Vegas by Saturday, we're fine. I'll try to twitter some more pics tomorrow. Today was a day of some technical frustration.

Preparing to Head West, and An Unwelcome Visitor

2009-02-04T15:19:00.000-08:00

Upon arriving at the Dallas - Ft. Worth airport yesterday, I was pleased to see that the car was still safe and sound in its covered parking spot. I was not so pleased to discover that someone had been using it while I was gone.

I should say some "thing" was using it.

They weren't using it to travel, for they are far more adept at that than a mere Land Rover. They were using it for protection, at night. Yes, they were using it to roost.

One or more avian squatters, and I do mean squatters, appears to have taken up residence in my car.

I had cleverly left the sun roofs opened a crack, to allows some ventilation while I was gone. Land Rover sun roofs even have screens, but they're not complete, and act more as sunshades. There was absolutely no way a human could get in there, but I didn't account for birds.

Given that they were gone when I arrived, how did I become aware of their former presence? By their calling cards of course. Seat rests, steering wheels, and the empty space above cup holders seem to act as premium perching space. It took me half an hour and half a roll of paper towels to remove their gifts, but who knows, maybe I should have left the upholstery dappled and claimed that Jackson Pollock was the interior designer for my car.

Fortunately black leather cleans well. I do wonder one thing though... how can I be really sure that they're gone?

Hitting the road again tomorrow. Stay tuned.

Trip on Hiatus

2009-01-31T11:53:00.000-08:00

I've reached the first of three major stops on this trip: Dallas, TX. However, my plans have changed, and I can't leave until February 4th. So the Land Rover is parked, and I'm typing this from an airplane headed to Las Vegas. I'm off to share a beer with my Dad, so we can toast the passing of our friend Paul, who went to Vegas every year for Superbowl.

This may be a good time to mention why I keep pushing CrisisLink. I worked there, I know for a fact this is the kind of charity that's worth supporting. Countless lives have been saved and changed because this service exists. Please consider donating. I know some of you have already, and I'm very grateful.

But perhaps more importantly, please consider calling. If things aren't going your way, and you don't know which way to turn, give them a call. It's free, it's anonymous, and they won't even ask for a donation. They'll simply listen, compassionately. I challenge you to have enough courage to make such a call when you need to. Sadly, my friend Paul didn't have that courage, and I will always regret that. I hoping you, whoever you are, can learn from his example and make the simple call. The number is right on the page, and even though it's a suicide hotline, only 5% of their calls relate to suicide. The rest are from people going through relationship crises, grief, job insecurities, and simple lonlienss. Try it. You can always hang up whenever you want.

So that's it for a few days... thanks for reading. There's much more to come.

Texarkana with Phototour

2009-01-31T11:27:00.000-08:00

I’m sitting in Outback, eating king crab legs as I type this. Yes, that’s right… I drove nearly 2000 miles to Texas, and I’m eating seafood in a pseudo-Australian restaurant. Ahh, America.
So, Texarkana. In 1984, I drove through Hazleton, PA with my Dad. We stopped for lunch, and couldn’t find a single restaurant still in business. Texarkana is like that, only much worse. Much.
There is a large hotel at the center of town. It dominates the city, with one of those large signs supported by a steel lattice on the roof. It reads: Hotel Grim. Grim indeed. Driving around downtown Texarkana is like haunting a ghosttown. You can see where things used to be, but nothing is newer than 40 years ago, and even less is still in business.

Am I being hyperbolic? Not really, I’m being kind.

Texarkana is what a dead America looks like. Here's the phototour, with more pictures.

But I knew from reading a couple of articles about Battle Mountain, NV, voted America’s armpit in a 2001 poll, that there was something worth seeing here.

I tapped on the GPS “attractions” button and had it display the list within 50 miles. First, was the Ace of Clubs House. Intrigued by the name, I pressed GO and headed that way.

In between two churches (they were still in business), I found the Ace of Clubs House. I instantly understood its name. The house is constructed of the octagonal towers, with a “stem” of a rectangle in the middle of them. It looks very much like a club from the air. At the time it was built, Texarkana was a dirt street, backwater burg, and this was probably the largest and most impressive mansion for hundreds of miles. And it is impressive.

I bypassed the front door as the signs demanded, and followed a narrow walkway into a dry moat, and to a door. The door had a peculiar sign. It said: PLEASE DO NOT TURN KNOB. Squeeze thumb latch, and push open. Thank you.” After snapping a picture of this conundrum, I examined the doorknob. It was dark, as I was in a moat, and it looked all the world like a normal door knob. Instead of turning it – I was determined not to – I felt a round and found a thin metal trigger. I pressed it, and pushed, and voila! I was in what we would call in Vermont, a “mud room.”

Odd electronic bells started sounding, and I knew I had triggered some sort of “Hey! We got a customer! button.” I wandered into the small gift shop, and started looking around.

And there it was. I’ve been joking this entire trip about finding “the ark in Texarkana,” and I had finally found it.

First, and explanation. My friend Jonathan and I have been rabid Clutch fans for years. On an album many years old now, they had a song called “Immortal,” which had the lyrics “who found the ark inside Texarkana?” We joked about that then, and now that I was actually here, I was determined to find one. Of course, the lyrics refer to the word “ark” inside the world “Texarkana,” but being the overly literal person that I am, I had been looking for an actual “ark” object since I’d arrived. Any definition of ark would do: if Noah sailed by, I’d count it as a win.
I stayed in Arkadelphia a few days earlier, and looked up the meaning of the name. The only entry I could find in my brief search said “Brotherly Chest.” I have no idea what that means, but the idea that “ark” meant “chest” ala Raiders of the Lost Ark stuck with me. And there, on the shelf of the gift shop was a chest.. er an ark. Yes, it was THE ark. I’d been searching for it, and I found it. I went over to take a picture of it, and the curator asked what I was doing. I utterly failed to explain it to her, and I’m sure she wrote me off as some obfuscating Yankee. And that’s just fine with me.

She charged me a modest $6 for the tour and explained that there is no photography and it is a guided tour. I decided to pen a rant about photography rules, and slung my camera behind me.
I was led into a basement room rec room. “As you’re our first guest today, we haven’t turned on the lights yet.” They had been open for two hours, so I noted that it was the slow season. “Oh, please sign the guest register.” She pointed to a book on the counter, and I went over and signed. I noticed that the date column where I put Jan 29, 2009, the last visitor had put Jan 24, 2009. Was I really the first visitor in 5 days? Given the manner in which she STRONGLY encouraged me to sign, I think I was.

She turned on an odd little historical VHS of the property, turned off the lights, and left. I watched impatiently, hearing from 6 actors portraying the 6 “matrons” of the house, and their trials and tribulations in keeping the house clean. In this official history, the first matron told the story of how her husband had won enough money in a card game to build this house. Later on, I head an embellished version, in which the card that won him that giant pot was the ace of clubs, and that’s why he built the house that way. The curator later said that these were just stories, and visitors should believe what they wanted. I’d rather believe the facts, and my best guess on the facts is that this wealthy man didn’t gamble at those high stakes, lest he’d not be a wealthy man anymore.

On with the tour! Rather than go by room and spew everything I saw and was told, I’ll now switch to summary mode. The house is a treasure. With its 14-16’ ceilings, ridiculous number of windows and mirrors, and unusual design, I was instantly taken with what a unique and well kept house this was. She lead me from room to room, on two floors, and pointed out many little touches that made the house unique. Some of the rooms had doors like roll-top desks, the ice box was specially constructed so that ice could be loaded from the outside, etc, etc. I was charmed.

We spent the next two hours wandering the home, with me imaging what it must have been like to live here, to have dined with Jay Gould in the former dining room, and how my own condo has so many more amenities in the way of bathroom and kitchen than this upper echelon abode could now offer.

I mentioned to her (we never exchanged names) that this was the only thing to do in Texarkana, and she said “Oh, that’s not true. There’s a lot to do here! In fact, take this.” She handed me a CD audio tour with a map of all the things to see in Texarkana. When I got back to the car, I looked it over. There were fewer than a doesn’t spots, most of them drive-bys, and one of them was the post office. I was thinking that if I were making a road tour for Richmond, VT (pop. 4100), I could easily spend two hours and put 50 stops on it. And they’d be interesting.

It was clear to me that she was proud of Texarkana, and I respect that, but I really do wonder why. Though I was incredibly impressed with the house and her tour, and YES they’re enough reason to visit Texarkana, I just can’t say much nice about the city itself.

I wandered up the hill and straddled the line between Texas and Arkansas at the only federal building that is on a border. I went inside (a volunteer at the Ace of Clubs House said it had been newly redone) and found an old fashioned post office in a terrible state of repair. The ceiling was collapsing, most of the lights were out… honestly, the post office of Fouke, AR was much nicer.
Looking out on the center of town… a large and confusing double-rotary with a somewhat disturbing monument to the confederacy in the middle… I saw the Texarkana Historical Museum and headed there.

It took me a few minutes to find the door. The building was a huge brick affair, with a jutting tower ala Rapunzel, and clearly had been home to some important business or other. Now, it housed the museum. I entered, hoping to find out more about the Hotel Grim at least.
The woman behind the counter greeted me, and had me sign the guest book. They closed in an hour, and I was the 5 visitor. They charged me $5, giving them a grand total of $25 in receipts, assuming everyone visiting was a full-fare adult.

The museum was, honestly, terrible. There was an interesting corner devoted to Scott Joplin and Leadbelly, with some of their original instruments and music samples. Upstairs there was a too brief introduction to the pre-Columbian tribe that settled the area, but that was it. I was out in 20 minutes, without a single picture.

And I ended the evening at Outback, listening to locals say things I’d only ever heard in Southploitation TV sitcoms.

Texarkana scared me. Not because the people were scary… they weren’t; they were by and large friendly and helpful. It was scary because this was a place completely bereft of hope. It was build to support the growing railroad, and in America, the railroad is no longer growing. And neither will be this city.

On one bright note, I had noticed a lot of Bradley fighting vehicles on flat bed trailers all the way from Kentucky. At least a dozen. In Texarkana, I saw a lot more, many with the words “Free Fall” spray painted on the back of them. Curious, I googled and found that a local company had been awarded a $100M+ contract to refit them. I can’t think of a place that needs something like that more. I’m still confused though.. if they won that contract, why were all the trucks heading north?

Boggy Creek with Phototour

2009-01-30T08:16:00.000-08:00

Ahh, the legend of Boggy Creek. Someone sees Bigfoot in the swamp, local guy borrows $100,000, shoots a terrible docu-drama, and earns $20,000,000.

On the advice of DrAtlantis, I stopped by Fouke, population 805, to see the monster for myself. I had a package to mail, so I started at the local post office. It turns out, that's where the monster lives. In front of the postoffice is a giant Boggy Creek monster cut out you can put your head in. I didnt put my head in it.

Inside the post office (all post offices look the same, all over the country), I talked to the lady behind the counter.

"So, where's the best place to see the monster in this lovely town?"

"This is isn't MY "lovely" town. I live in Delight."

"Sounds like a nice place."

"The lady walking in might be able to help you."

A largish woman walked through the door, and leaned on the counter.

"Can you tell me where I can find the Monster? Are there any monster tours or anything?"

"Well, for $20, I can get one of the local guys to take you to a boggy marsh. For $50, I can probably get someone run around in a gorilla suit."

"So there are no tours or a museum or anything?"

She pointed... "Monster Mart. That's it. If anyone around here could find a way to make money off that thing, they'd be doing it."

I walked over to monster mart, and they had a little case full of plastic Bigfoots(feet), an authentic plaster cast, some tee-shirts, and copies of the film "Legend of Boggy Creek." They also had a stuffed Bigfoot doll, that she was really interested in selling me. I bought a couple of postcards and a t-shirt for Dr A. and left.

There wasn't much there, and without the monster, there'd be a lot less. I saw a block of storefronts for lease on the way out... $250 a month. I wondered for a split second if I could make enough with one to pay the rent, and stepped on the gas pedal a little harder.

Take a look at my phototour of Fouke.

Beale St Phototour

2009-01-30T07:20:00.001-08:00

Here are some pictures from my lovely afternoon on Beale St, and a couple of bonus ones besides.

Graceland Phototour

2009-01-29T23:42:00.000-08:00

I uploaded about 70 photos I took at Graceland to Flikr. Have a look if you're interested.

Arkadelphia

2009-01-29T22:27:00.000-08:00

Upon leaving Beale St, I had to decide where to go next. Texarkana seemed a bit too far, and I was exhausted. So Arkadelphia it was. I've always loved that name, but I learned that it means "Chest of Brothers," and.. well, I just don't get it. At all.

I drove around a bit and found Toltec Mounds Park, which has mounds built by... people who lived here before Columbus... and who weren't Toltecs. Seems the guy who owned the place 100 years ago was convinced they were Toltec.

They're just big mounds of dirt, supposedly there for religious significance. And... they line up astronomically. If I make any geographic shape on the ground, isn't it going to line up with SOMETHING rising or setting on a certain day? I'm sure some of these things really were constructed to recognize the start of spring, etc., but I often wonder if archaeologists get a little to grandiose with their theories.

It seems that every petroglyph has "deep spiritual meaning" to its creator, but we know humans have created graffiti for thousands of years... how could we tell the difference?

View Larger Map

Anyway, what fascinated me was the ox bow lake the mounds were built on. Close the buble in the picture above, and look at them all? Ox bow lakes are created when a winding river on nearly flat land floods and cuts a new, shorter channel past one of the bends.

Without doing any research, I wonder if the mounds were to protect structures from flooding, or if they were simply a place for spectators to watch sporting events. Dunno.

I splurged on a Hampton Inn here, because I was tired and needed to do some laundry. I had breakfast at the local Waffle House, which was quite good. I think I understand why they're so common in the South.

On Panhandlers..

2009-01-29T22:09:00.000-08:00

I've had some odd panhandling experience on this trip...

1) Montreal (for the test drive)
Upon leaving McDonalds, a man came up to me and started speaking in French with his hand out. I uttered a rapid "Je ne parle pas français" and walked to my car.

2) Erie, PA
Guy comes down the corridor, looks in my car and says, "Wow, that's a nice laptop! Hey bud, my friend just locked me out of the room. Gotta a couple of bucks so I can get a hamburger." I got angry with him and said "Give me a break!" and rolled up the window, mostly because I was fighting with the webcam, and it was snowing. I then drove over the sidewalk and was amused by him walking away shaking his head.

3) Beale St, Nashville, TN
I'm walking down the street, looking at Silky's, and someone yells "Don't worry! It ain't gonna fall down." I don't really feel like talking, but he persists, and tells me the history of the buidling, and points out two "mountain goats" in the courtyard. They're actually Irish goats according to Siky's, but that's OK. We chat for awhile, and then what I knew was coming comes.. "Jeff, the shelter only lets me stay there 3 nights a week and then they want $10 a night and.." I interupt him, and hand him a $20. If you're homeless, giving free tours is a fine way to earn money, I think. I have no idea if anything he said was true, and I don't care. I was entertained.

4) Near Beale St, Nashville, TN
I'm actually typing on my laptop as I walk to the car, and holding a bag of souvenirs. A guy yells "Hey Vermont!" (He can see my plates.) I keep walking to the car. He says, "Wow, I don't know how you walk juggling like that. Oh... hey, don't worry, not all black people are bad. " This annoys me, but then he says.. "Look man, I'm not homeless, I just want 67¢ so I can get a beer, ya know?" I stare at him and explain that I just helped somoene out. He says "Look, at least I'm honest. I'm not going to lie to you like those guys down on Beale St." I hand him a dollar, he thanks me, and wanders off. I think I was more entertained by this one.

Demographically, I gave money to two black panhandlers, and didn't to two white panhandlers. Make something of that if you wish... the real motivator was entertainment.

Graceland and Silky's

2009-01-28T13:51:00.000-08:00

Well, I've done it. I've fulfilled my lifetime obligation to the national religion by completing my journey to the mecca that is Graceland.

My overwhelming thought was... creepy. It's a very very creepy place. It's creepy to me personally, because it reminded me so much of a house I bought in 1997, in Leesburg, VA. Same walls, same intercoms, same fixtures, and the EXACT same swimming pool.

I was very surprised to see airplanes there. There were two (photos will be up tonight.)

So.. not to be anticlimactic, but I don't like Elvis. I don't mind him... he just never reached me. So what am I supposed to take away from this? I treated it like any other history tour. It's interesting to learn the impact he had, and how he truly shaped modern music, but I left feeling like I should worship the guy. If anything, I felt sorry for him.

He bought the house when he was 22 for $100,000. A HUGE sum in the 50's. I really got the impression that he never had a chance to really live his life. He was always being "managed" and in return, got some of his money. I dunno, maybe he was happy like that, but it made me sad for him.

I'm sitting in Silky's on Beale St. If you've been here, you know this place... it's the one with the front wall that's about to fall and kill everybody. And the goats. Yeah, this is one of THOSE places.

A couple of guys took to the stage, and as soon as I started writing this.. they started playing Elvis. What is the message? I don't know. They played some CCR too, and that was great.

I have to say I like Beale St. better than New Orleans. (Sorry Kate!). It's different... I don't think they really compete, but there's something about Beale Street that feels more welcoming and less... what's the word... menacing. I haven't spent enough time in either place to know what I'm talking about, but that's my first impression.

Gonna take some more twitpics and hit the road soon. Beale St gets a thumbs up. Graceland is... an obligation. Mine has been fulfilled.

They're Extra..

2009-01-28T08:58:00.000-08:00

One of my favorite Laurie Anderson bits:

I know this English guy who was driving around in the South. And he stopped for breakfast one morning somewhere in southeast Georgia. He saw “grits” on the menu.

He’d never heard of grits so he asked the waitress, “What are grits, anyway?”

She said, “Grits are fifty.”

He said, “Yes, but what _are_ they?”

She said, “They’re extra.”

He said, “Yes, I’ll have the grits, please.”

I know what grits are, and I even know how they're made (you may not want to.) However, I was told that Memphis was THE place for BBQ, and I intended to find some. And I did, at the TASTEE-BAR-B-Q on East Brooks Road in Memphis. It was exactly what I was looking for... smokey, outdated, nothing at all fancy. However, the menu was a bit daunting. It said: BBQ. And that's about it. So I asked...

"What's BBQ?"

The scruffy young ballcap behind the counter paused, and said:

"Well, it's pork shoulder smoked for hours at low heat, and then chopped and put on a plate or a roll."

And.. that answered my question. You see, BBQ is one of those things that's completely different wherever you go. Sometimes is served already in sauce, sometimes it's dry, sometimes it's sliced or pulled instead of chopped.

As he was making my plate-o-meat, he said "Did you really not know what BBQ was?" And I explained that I was from Vermont where we don't have such things, but that I've traveled a lot and found that everyone does BBQ their own way.

I think at that point I was branded "idiot Yankee" because he told me how to get refills from the soda fountain. But I didn't mind.

It was delicious. And the hot sauce was indeed, hot.

An Accidental Pilgrimage

2009-01-28T06:05:00.000-08:00

Elvis. I've always preferred Elvis Costello to Elvis Presley, but there's no ignoring the man or the impact he had on music lovers and American culture at large. But... I don't really get it. I'm quite ignorant on many levels, and Elvis culture is one of them. So today, I'm going to experience Memphis. Not a lot of driving, but certainly some walking. Though I don't think I'l be a Christian tonight, I'm sure I'll match many other lyrics as the day turns to night. So many people find magic here that I wonder if I can too.

I crossed the Mississippi (I have it on good authority that the folks in the state of that name pronounce it "missippi") last night, and will again twice today. And I'm supposed to look for a pyramid. Not sure what that's about, but I'll let you know.

I'm still not sleeping well. Six hours is as much as I can manage, but thankfully, it seems like enough.

This is not home. This is not where I belong. This is just where I am. This is where I won't be tomorrow. But for today, I'm going to BE here.

And the Discovery will too. It looks out of place at the moment, sitting next to a ridiculously small and unkempt swimming pool in eastern Arkansas, but its aim is true. I've come to think of the car has having the same mentality as a dog. Not always smart, sometimes hard to control, but fiercely loyal and always glad to see me. I almost feel bad for tying it up at night.

Later today, I'll explain the CrisisLink connection.

Rain Rain Rain..

2009-01-27T20:18:00.000-08:00

I was hoping to stop and see some more things today, but it rained relentlessly, so I just kept driving. I did stop at the Apple store in Germantown, TN.

Something about the Apple store really bugs me. Yeah, everything is overpriced, but it's more than that. I can't quite place it. It's an arrogance and "form over function" mentality that reminds me of cult members, I guess. At least they have cash registers now.

I was having a problem with a terrible buzzing in the car stereo, and I bought a bunch of things in the Apple store to try to fix it. To my good fortune, the cheapest thing I bought (cassette adaptor) was the thing I needed. Of course, I bought stuff I didn't need too.

So here I sit in Arkansas for the very first time. This being my 47th state, I've promised myself that I'll see all 50 by the time I'm 50. That leaves me 8 years to see the Dakotas and Hawaii. For some reason, I think I'll see the Dakotas first.

I listened to the rest of The Last Lecture. My opinion hasn't changed. I think it's fine, all good advice, but it just wasn't anything I personally needed to hear.

I think I'm going to listen to Laurie Anderson's United States Parts I-IV all the way through. It's about 4.5 hours, but damn, I've been listening to that stuff since 1985 and it still stuns me. How can anyone just "get it" so perfectly?

Two things I've seen a lot of on this trip: Porn, and Jesus. I think they're the defining landmarks of America's highways today. I haven't partaken of either on this trip.

It just dawned on me (thank you Remie) that I've only seen one other Land Rover Discovery on this trip, and that was a Discovery Series I from about 1998. Honestly, that's odd. I've driven 1000 miles.

I should talk about the car. It seems "happy" if that makes any sense. Gas mileage is improving – it's over 14MPG now – and everything seems to be working. I have to remember to check the oil and antifreeze. One odd thing about Land Rovers... when the oil light goes on, you can keep driving. They set it early so you can drive somewhere and get oil. In most cars, you need to stop immediately in order to avoid destroying the engine.

I love this car. It's such a combination of brilliance and stupidity. I was talking a Psychiatrist years ago and he thought that I liked the car because it reminded me of me. Maybe so. And maybe that's another reason I need to get rid of it.

Some people have commented that they're concerned that I seem to doing computer stuff while driving. All I can say is that it's not what it appears. Yes, I am distracted sometimes, I'll admit that, but all this technology has the INCREDIBLE benefit of keeping me awake. Seriously, me falling asleep at the wheel is the biggest hazard I can imagine, and I haven't been sleep once on this trip.

BTW, here's a trick if you're falling asleep while driving. Roll down the window, look at the driver next to you, and stick your tongue out at him/her. Really. It works. Why? Because you can't be sleepy and embarrassed at the same time. If you're driving, it's safer to be embarrassed.

Red Roof Inn is nicer than Motel 6 for the record. Nicer sheets is the clincher. This is my third night in a hotel, and they've been progressively worse. They've all been under $40 though, which is incredible.

I shall now try to sleep. Tomorrow... Graceland. And possibly some BBQ. And maybe Beale Street.

Slow Down and Smell the Jesus...

2009-01-27T10:53:00.000-08:00

So, I'm still in Nashville. I was having technical problems with the cameras, pulled over.. found myself in front of the Capitol, and then onto Jefferson St. And that's where stuff started happening.

I was looking for a restaurant to sort out my issues in, and I came across this place. I don't even know what to say about that. At all.

But across the street, I found Stillwaters.

This is the kind of place you want on your block. It's unassuming on the outside... just like thousands of other places, but on the inside, is a warm and cozy nook of good food, great coffee, and surprisingly good music. The walls are covered with black-themed folk art, and the clientele is as varied the colors on the paintings. On each table is a copy of Audacity of Hope by Barack Obama, as this month's book of choice.

I knew Nashville had a musical past. I woke up looking at the "Musictown Mall," but I didn't expect to find a live jazz band in a café at 1pm on a rainy Tuesday afternoon. I am delighted.

The guitarist's name is Jerry Krahn, and he wields his vintage Epiphone with dexterous ease that makes me reconsider my beliefs in the paranormal. Honestly, how can people do that? I bought a CD and chatted with him for awhile. His drummer was Chris Walters, and was equally impressive. Just a delightful moment.

I've driven across country a few times before, and my goal has always been time time time. Short breaks, shortest route, etc. Now that my trip has been extended for a few days, I'm going to spend some time wandering. I'll share with you the things I find. I hope I find some more places like Stillwaters. Off I go again... next stop.. Memphis.

Gnashville

2009-01-26T20:12:00.000-08:00

Sorry, couldn't resist the pun. I'm not quite gnashing my teeth, but I am in Nashville. I had a frustrating day of phone calls and vendors not doing what I asked them. I'll sort it out, but man, I was fit to be tied for a while there. And then...

I had dinner in Bowling Green, KY with chat room friend Chicken Pot Pie and her son Zack. I know her real name, but I won't tell you. Why? Because she chose Chicken Pot Pie, and she didn't choose her real name. In my book, that makes it more personal.

She's a woman who has been through a lot, and you can tell that she's handled it all with remarkable grace. If you don't think a woman can be strong and feminine, you need to meet her. Really. And Zack has big things ahead of him. Though fairly quiet at dinner, I could tell that he was curious and determined. I'm not sure where he's going in life, but it will be remarkable. I am fortunate to have met them and to have them in my life.

And now I'm much happier.

I drove by this sign today. Ohio is apparently Hell. Who knew? (Answer: everyone in West Virginia.)

Tomorrow, perhaps a visit to Mecca. But for now, work and sleep.

Change of Plans...

2009-01-26T11:34:00.000-08:00

So I had a appointment to meet someone on the 27th, or 28th, an that has now been pushed off to the 30th. I have about 15 hours drive left, and 4 days to do it. So what shall I do?

I'll think about that, and get back to you.

Thoughts on the Last Lecture

2009-01-26T11:13:00.000-08:00

I've been listening to The Last Lecture by Randy Pausch, though strangely not narrated by him. Given his short time, I guess that's not too surprising.

I'm a bit disappointed in it. I was hoping to gain some deep insight, but what I'm hearing is obvious wisdom presented as some sort of self-help book. I'm not done listening yet, but I don't think it will get better.

I have a ton of respect for the man, don't get me wrong. It's just that his Last Lecture is, so far, nothing new. I've heard all this before.

I do think it's funny that he hates his name so much he returned his mother's letters unopened. He doesn't care what his car looks like or how he dresses, but the name "Randolph" is so offensive that he's willing to alienate his mother. I don't know.. I just found that amusing. :)

I also don't like his emphasis on competition. We spend SO much time teaching our kids to be competitive through sports, video games, and even education. Why is this good? Well, it's good because it forces kids to be their best.. but I think cooperation is a much more difficult thing to learn and we should spend at least as much time on that. And I don't mean pseudo-cooperation like team sports, I mean actual cooperation, where the efforts of the group can do more than the efforts of each individual. These things exist, but they often end up being competitions in themselves.

Take band for example. It's cooperative group activity, but it ends up being that there are fist seats, second seats, third seats.. and everyone competes for those. What would happen if those were randomly chosen and the group worked to make them sound as good as possible? I think the answer is that the band wouldn't sound as good, but the kids would learn more cooperation. Which is more important?

So my hat is definitely off to the guy, but I think the hype is overblown. If the rest convinces me otherwise I'll let you know.

Greetings from Mr. C's Family Restaurant

2009-01-26T07:26:00.000-08:00

I'm the only person here. I had a nice Denver omelet, and now I'm alone with a cup of black coffee and a waitress doing busy work.

Welcome to Ohio.

I feel pressured to get on the road.. to go go go.. but really, I'm in no hurry. I have 18 hours left in my first leg, and three days to do it. Time to stop and smell the bacon, or something.

I'm cognizant of trees today. There are plenty here, even though it's flat, and I'm realizing that I'm leaving them behind for a long time. I've heard that people from the West who come east find the blanket of forest claustrophobic, but to me, they're a security blanket. Once, while driving in Iowa, I had a near panic attack as I realized I could see the horizon for 360º. No place to hide!

From what, I've never figured out. Anyway, I should hit the road today. I'm having dinner with a couple of my favorite people, whom I've never met. We live in interesting times.

Off I go...

Day one complete...

2009-01-25T19:57:00.001-08:00

Well, I survived the first day, with few events to note. I'm in Erie, PA for the night.

For those who are curious, here's how the technology works:

I have a MacBook Pro in the passenger seat. Connected to it is a Fire-i camera that's on the dashboard. Using EvoCam, a picture is taken every 60 seconds, an image from the built in iSight camera is overlayed (that's me) and then it's uploaded to the server.

The strip of pictures is from Twitpic, and they are uploaded from my iPhone.

The gps map is from InstaMapper, using GPS data from my iPhone. I have a GPS on the dash, but it doesn't no communicate with anything. (Well, it's the speakerphone for my iPhone.)

The iPhone has its own data connection, but it also shares the data connection on the MacBook, which comes from a Verizon USB dongle.

I'm also using the MacBook to play music and audiobooks through a cassette adapter, which is unsurprisingly giving me trouble.

The messages I send out through Twitter are displayed on the site. Sometimes I send them from the iPhone, sometimes from the Mac. From the iPhone, they are done by voice recognition using a program callled Vlingo.

I think that's it for technology. I do have two awards to give out today.

1) For worst example of form over function, I give award to the driver of this truck: http://twitpic.com/17754

The plastic things covered his brake lights so much that I couldn't tell when they were on, and his third eye was out. But hey, your ride is bitchin'.

2) For the most aggressive and stupid driving the prize goes to the driver in the tiny car who came up on my rear bumper so close that I couldn't see their headlights. When I moved over to let them pass, they did, and then went into the right hand lane. I followed them there, as they were clearly going faster than I was.. but no.. they slowed to 50MPH. I had no idea what they were doing, so I waited a bit, and then passed them... and bang, right on my ass again. I put on my rear fog lights, which look like brake lights, to warn them off, and they honked their horn and put on their high beams.

I'm smart enough to know not to play games like this on the highway, so I sped up to see if they would follow, and they didn't. I pulled over at the next service area and haven't seen them since.

I'm about a third of the way to my first destination. I'm not sure how far I'll get tomorrow, but I do have have some long-time chat friends that I'm going to meet up with in Kentucky.

Oh, and I've turned on comments. Feel free to leave some. :)

2009-01-25T14:40:00.000-08:00

First dinner break, in Kyser Lake, NY. Burger King... very exciting. I solved a number of technical problems, but the iPhone crashed a couple of times. This is worrying, as I'm dependent on it. Hopefully it will continue to reset.

Not sure where I'm going to end up tonight. I'm on I-90, and have hundreds of miles to go on it.. maybe I'll just finish it off.

It's interesting that the sky is prettier in the cam than in real life.

And the car is doing great. :)

It begins...

2009-01-25T10:30:00.000-08:00

I'm writing this from inside a car wash. Very little sleep last night, and I'm running 6 hours behind. No matter, all I have to do is point the car west and hold on to the steering wheel.

I have a full tank of gas, a car wash, and some snacks. Here we go.

Why I'm Lighting Out for the Territories

2009-01-22T14:19:00.000-08:00

In the past few months, I've had a number of setbacks. Over Christmas, my furnace broke six times. My property tax went up (which I pay twice because I have a condo), my pay went down, and several other obligations came my way, for a net loss of $3000 per month. My stocks (like everyone else's) lost much of their value. (My IRA is worth what it was in 1998). My new MacBookPro drowned in a freak accident, taking all its data with it. Add all to that a couple of failed relationships and a finalized divorce, and you can predict my mindset.

Then finally... my car.

My 2004 Land Rover Discovery Series II SE is very close to the car I've always wanted. We've had some adventures together (including driving on a burning highway in Centralia, PA), and we've bonded a bit more than man and machine should.

It was making a rattling noise, so I took it in to the dealer for an oil change and a look to see what was else was wrong. A few hours later, I got a phone call"

LANDROVER: Are you sitting down?

ME: No, but I'm braced against a solid object.

LANDROVER: That's good. I'm sorry to have to tell you this, but this is going to be very expensive.

ME: How much is expensive?

LANDROVER: At least $7500.

ME: I doubt the car is worth that.

LANDROVER: I agree. I'm assuming you don't want us to do the work?

ME: You are correct.

This car is 4 years old (I bought it new in 2005). It has had all its maintenance done on schedule, by the dealer. And still, it needed the following:

oil change
windshield wipers
rear axle seal
rear brakes
alternator belt
rear rotors (ruined by the axle fluid)
blower motor
*head gasket
*front cover gasket
*the exhaust pipe that connects the catalytic converter to the manifold
steering box (5th one)

I should mention also that the car has 50,000 miles. Warranty ended at 48,000.

The items with *'s came to $5650 by themselves. All other work was performed. I left the dealer dejected, knowing I was driving a functionally totaled car that probably couldn't pass inspection, and that I had just spent over $1500 to get it the way it was.

The guys at the dealership felt bad, and gave me a decent discount, but on the way home, I got a call:

LANDROVER: I hate to do this to you.

ME (thinking.. I've got the car.. what can they do?): Ok, go ahead.

LANDROVER: I forgot to charge you for the blower motor.

ME: I see.

LANDROVER: I need another $375 from you.

OK: Just add it to the credit card.

And that was that. I heard a distinct SNAP and the camel's back broke. Enough. I need an outlet, something to pour some anger into, some way to gain some clarity. And then in dawned on me - things can't get any worse.

And of course, they can, but I was thinking specifically about the car. Land Rovers are the kind of car that just itch to get off the road. They are terrible on-road vehicles, but off the road, they can perform miracles. The problem is, they're so expensive that you don't want to risk damaging them.

I no longer had that problem. I could completely destroy this thing, and it wouldn't matter. Imagine the possibilities. I attended Land Rover Driving school at the Greenbrier in White Sulphur Springs, WV, and have always wanted to put those new skills to the test. Maybe now I could.

But first, the voice of reason intruded:

REASON: You know, it still drives just fine. I'll bet you could patch up that front pipe somehow, put some kitty litter in the garage, and get a few more year out of it.

ME: SHUT UP.

You see, reason is usually right, but reason can't account for the intangibles of life. So much had happened that I decided to look at this last event as sign. It wasn't a tragedy, it was an opportunity. So I made my plan, and set it in stone.

I'm going to drive this thing to where it feels most at home. I'm going to put it out to pasture, after running it through its paces one last time. Yeah, the pasture happens to be thousands of miles away. So what? That just gives me time to figure it all out.

What's Lighting Out For the Territories?

2009-01-22T14:00:00.000-08:00

Mark Twain wrote, in Huckleberry Finn's voice:

And then Tom he talked along and talked along, and says, le's all three slide out of here one of these nights and get an outfit, and go for howling adventures amongst the Injuns, over in the Territory, for a couple of weeks or two;

And later...

But I reckon I got to light out for the Territory ahead of the rest, because Aunt Sally she's going to adopt me and sivilize me, and I can't stand it. I been there before.

I intend to do the same. I shall be driving my 2004 Land Rover Discovery Series II from Vermont to "the territory." Those who know Samuel Clemens well will know where I mean, for he once lived there, long before he started writing novels. It's a trip of thousands of miles, and it will take many days. I'll be blogging and twittering all along the journey to show you my progress and share any insights I might have.

And here's the kicker... I have made no plans for what do after the journey is complete. This is a vision quest of sorts, and I hope to find the answer to that question after I arrive at the specific location I'm headed to.

I also hope that those of you following will consider giving a donation to CrisisLink, and member of the Hopeline network. The volunteers there (they actual pay for there own training) work tirelessly to provide a voice to those lost in the night. They will talk to anyone, about anything, and provide support and resources when needed, all in an anonymous environment. I used to be one of them and I know the good work they do. Twenty-four hours a day, 1-800-SUICIDE is a lifeline to those at the end of their rope.

For those among you who wonder why I chose the word "Territories" instead of "Territory," there are few reasons. First, this journey has many destinatinons. I have three overnight waypoints that I will observe, plus wherever else I may find myself. Second, this trip is also inspired by the words of Laurie Anderson, who wrote the song Lighting Out For the Territories, which I reprint without permission below:

You’re driving and it’s dark and it’s raining.
And you’re on the edge of the city and you’ve been driving all night.
And you took a turn back there but now you’re not sure it was the right turn.
But somehow it looks familiar so you just keep driving.
Hello. Excuse me.
Can you tell me where I am?

You’ve been on this road before.
You can read the signs.
You can feel your way.
You can do this in your sleep.

I shall try mightily not to drive in my sleep. Come along, see where I end up, heck, see if I make it all. Comments and queries are welcome at jeff@wagg.com. To follow me at Twitter, my tweetnick is jeffwagg, and I'm jeff@randi.org on Facebook.