That's right, I'm big time

Road Trip Day 8

I woke up in a small town in Southeastern New Mexico. In the hotel parking lot, I noticed my left rear tire was nearly flat. After changing the tire, I was able to find what must have been the only auto repair place open on Sundays in the middle of the New Mexican desert. Not only had they never seen a Prius before, but they had to ask me how to put it in reverse. This obviously increased my confidence in their ability to fix my tire.

But they did. And I made it home safely. And the road trip ended.

I found this in the desert while I waited for my repair.

Adolf Hitler at a strange roadside attraction in Arizona.

See what I mean.

Road Trip Day 7

After spending three wonderful days with my family, it was time to bid a tearful farewell and get back in the car.

Zooming down Interstate 10 in the middle of nowhere, I passed a sign advertising a 'van Gogh gallery' which was supposedly at the next exit. A van Gogh gallery in the high plains of Texas? A collection of works by one of the greatest and most influential artists to ever live is located out here, among the tumbleweeds and sagebrush? This I had to see. So I took the next exit and entered the town of Van Horn.

There was no gallery. At least not anymore, according to the man who was setting up Christmas lights on the town's gazebo. After I held his ladder steady so he could safely decorate the gazebo's roof, the man, whose name and life story I've long since forgotten, told me I should visit a mountain fifty miles out of the way. For some unknown reason, I felt obligated to do this.

As I got out to this special mountain, far from civilization, my tire pressure light came on. A careful inspection of the tires revealed nothing out of the ordinary. But at the strong urging of my subconscious (and the owner's manual), I decided to find the nearest gas station.

So I weighed my options. I was fifty miles from the gazebo in Van Horn, and I was 89 miles from El Paso (the direction I needed to go). I could 'play it safe' and head back to Van Horn. Or I could roll the dice and hope to soon find a gas station on the way to El Paso. I decided to roll the dice.

Fifteen miles down the road there was a gas station, but no air hose to be found. So I visited the man inside. He was about seventy and had tubes running from inside his nose to a large oxygen tank. I felt sorry for the man. But at the same time, I wondered how much he could spare.

After I explained my situation, he said, 'You better head to Dell City, and hurry! They got two gas stations. But everything closes at sundown, so you gotta go now!'

I arrived at Dell City, and everything was closed. Except for the town bar. I went inside and the bartender asked if I was from England (???). He then explained where I could find the town's air hose. His directions, which involved heading down two dirt roads and turning at the 'Two Ts' sign, led me right where I need to go. And for the night, disaster was averted.

That special mountain.


The bar.

The sign.
Dirt road.
The hose.

All is well.

Texas!

Road Trip Day 3

I woke up in a small town in Southeastern Arizona. A town where everyone I passed had a cough or sniffle they seemed eager to share. As unpleasant as this was, I still needed breakfast.

Having only spent two days on the road, I was amazed at how much money I had already run through. Had I been playing penny slots or dollar slots? As I counted out change to pay for my pancakes, a man came over to me. His name was Butch, and he asked if I had any interest in earning an honest day's pay. He had a bunch of men out with illness and was in need of temporary help. Since I was a day ahead of schedule, I was more than grateful to take him up on the offer. So I followed Butch for 25 miles out to the Queen Anne Copper Mine where I was put to work.

Butch's car. Notice the rear tire of the car parked in the background. That tire will feature prominently later in the trip.

Right to work.

Going in.

Where I would spend the next nine hours.

The flashlight and helmet silhouette of Edgar, my nearest co-worker for much of the day.

An hour of work.

Road Trip Day 2

I stayed up all night playing penny slots and having the occasional complementary cocktail. After a few hours of poor luck and increasingly potent beverages, I worked up the courage to ride the Tropicana glass-elevator all the way to the 21st floor. This may not seem very thrilling to you, but to me it was on par with bungee jumping. It is the closest thing to sky-diving I will ever experience.

The night culminated with me being propositioned by a red-headed prostitute. I turned her down.

--

In the morning, I woke up still thinking about the hooker.

I also went to the Hoover Dam.

Road Trip Day 1

I spent Thanksgiving at my brother's house in Del Rio, Texas. I have a paralyzing fear of flying. My brother is an Air Force fighter pilot. In fact, a picture of him flying an F-15 currently accompanies the Wikipedia article on the F-15.

This does not change the fact that I will never set foot in an aircraft. Which meant I would have to drive the 1,200 miles to Del Rio.

A mere 36 hours before my planned departure, I found out Michael Schumacher was in Las Vegas racing go-karts. If you do not know who Michael Schumacher is, I suggest you click here. Having read every word of that article, you now know why I decided to drive an extra 280 miles and start my road trip a day early.