Get Your Kicks On Route 66

Just a quick update from the road while I wait for MFDC to finish clearing out his sinuses in the shower:

The best time to move across the country is NOT July.

It turns out you can take a Vicodin by accident, only to realize it later with an incredulous laugh followed by crushing disappointment that the bond you'd made with the road and the ease with which you thought you'd be able to drive 10 hours a day was entirely drug-induced.

There is no limit to the amount of times the Universe will force your husband to unhitch and re-hitch your car after 10 hours of driving and before dinner.

Worse drivers so far (excluding Los Angeles, because they're just a way of life in California): Albuquerque, NM.

Hottest temperature through which we labored: 116 degrees.

We ate AWESOME steaks at The Big Texan yesterday. Upon leaving the restaurant, we saw black clouds heading in our direction. We decided to hit the road post haste, only to discover that the route curved INTO the coming storm. The wind picked up, the temperature dropped 20 degrees and it started to rain sideways. We pulled off the road to wait it out - MFDC in the truck and me in the Passat. Both vehicles, weighed down with all our worldly goods and their own considerable weight (the Passat is a TANK, dude!) were bouncing and shaking in the wind. Purple lightening, giant cracks of thunder, flooding gutters... I was expecting a funnel to touch down at any moment but it never happened, thankfully!

So far, I have managed to find a Starbucks in every one of our stopover cities (much to MFDC's annoyance, I'm sure!), but I'm not so optimistic about our current one: Shamrock, TX. Although, I will say that the Holiday Inn Express here is quite nice.

Somewhere in Arizona, the Passat was hit by a pickup truck in the parking lot of a gas station with me in it. The dude totally drove away. No obvious damage was done to the car, but I think the tire absorbed most of the impact and perhaps the car's alignment is slightly off at the moment.

Last night, as we were pulling into a Dairy Queen to turn around (we had missed the entrance to our hotel), these dudes in a pickup truck (coincidence?) decided that they wanted to exit the same way I was entering and so they made straight for me. It was like a game of chicken. I managed to maneuver around them, but it shook me up pretty good and, of course, it didn't help that when they passed me they leaned out their windows and gave me a shit-eating grin. I was in a foul mood for the rest of the night.

How many attempts of her life can one girl be expected to tolerate? The next fucker that tries to mess with me is going to get an earful of me. And if you that doesn't sound like much of a threat to you, just know that I'll be channeling the Wrath of Loretta. You won't know who to pray for!