1 November 97
Visiting Mom in the desert.
Drank six beers, smoked almost all of a Paul Garmirian corona. Bought some clothes that will fit, Dockers and shirts. Saw a *gorgeous* Chicana at the mall, incredible breasts and slim hips, really, really ultrafuckable.
Cooking ribs. Try and connect Zip drive to PowerBook later on, brought it with me.
Low on battery power. This is the new battery I bought and conditioned, took about half a charge.
I am really incredibly fat, way, way overweight. This could end my life, I have to stop drinking so much/intaking so many calories. How to get more exercise painlessly? Riding to and from Rockwell worked along with the Soloflex AND NOT DRINKING back in '93. When I weighed 160!!
Now I weigh 240 or so. Great.
I drink too much. A night without enough beer or wine to dissolve the obvious issues is a night not well spent. Drink until it doesn't matter.
Went to the mall with Diane, very frustrating. Diane can't carry on a conversation, can't do the most basic, simple thing as far as social interaction goes. She has parts missing. When I slam up against it and there is not conceivable (ha) reason to stay with her the fact that I am staying with her, not with her but with Flynn, is painful, I feel stupid for wasting my life this way. I like spending time with Flynn, he is the center of my life, but life with Diane is an exquisitely frustrating and meaningless waste of time, she doesn't pick up on the simplest concept, no matter how finely it's chopped up for her. Why am I wasting my time???
...
Sunday, September 14, 1997
sunday
Visiting Mom in the desert with my delightful little son and my unfortunate choice of a second wife. I really know how to pick 'em, don't I?
Took Flynn to one of little friend's birthday party yesterday from noon to three, hot day out, he skipped his nap, fairly exhausting. Then we drove out here. The best way to deal with living with Diane is to just ignore her. She says stupid things and drives like shit, just close my eyes except when we're actually about to have an accident. "Whoa Pook. Whoa Pook. Whoa Pook. Please do not kill us."
I mean, can't you SEE that car merging into this lane, getting on the freeway? Maybe driving 75 in the slow lane is not a good idea? What do *you* think, Honey? I think you're not all there, there is something missing from your makeup, there is a chunk missing and you don't even know it.
Flynn is now three. I was planning on staying for 18 months. Three years is 36 months. I'm good and sick of Diane in every way by this time. Smoking, the dog, stupidity, lack of some elemental block of character...
Unhappy with Diane. As evidenced by my IMMENSE size, I've never been fatter than this. I eat and drink to block out Diane. I just want to blot it all out. Go ahead, say the stupidest things you can, I'm going to drink four beers and retire to my little room and ignore you, dream of other days and basically NOT BE HERE WITH YOU.
I'd really like to establish and maintain at least a diary of who does what with Flynn and account for hours and activities, I think that would be a real eye-opener in six months.
My family seems to like Diane just fine. THEY CAN HAVE HER. I'll take Flynn.
Flynn has been really uppity since my return from Baja and his Hawaii trip.
Would also like to get a small video camera to record just how things Diane says lead to conflict. I don't see or expect how demonstrating or even charting out how the things she says and does lead to conflict, by this time I do not believe that Diane is all there.
What else? Not much. Work continues. Yawn. The house is ok, I guess. Moved the bricks I'd bought back to where I'm going to position them, bought two more 50 lb. bags of sand on Friday after going to the market after picking up the VW parts after picking up the new clothes.
Wore the new clothes yesterday, looked nice, it was hot out, though. I may be nicely dressed, but I'm still really fat.
Wearing contact lenses, finally ran across those yesterday. Kind of a change.
What else? Have to replace the points and condensor on the Campmobile, try and set the timing and all that. Running very poorly. Also some white smoke from the port scoop. Oil on the engine? Valve is shot? I do not own a compression tester, I'm unsure what the condition of the engine is.
Was thinking of a BMW 2002, that would be fun. No money, of course.
What else? Not much else.
---
2010: Messages from the past like this remind me of what my married life was like, and it was not pleasant. Diane ended up having some kind of mental breakdown or whatever you'd call it. Which has been going on and on and on for five years, now. At least she never participated in our family life, which was good as far as carrying on without was concerned for the kids, who have never once said "I miss mom" or anything of the sort. Go figure. But, God, I remember those horrible days of being with her and being so unhappy and so dissatisfied -- it was really miserable. I mean, it was really bad. I wish that I could say that I missed her even a little bit, but that simply is not the case at all. As far from that as you can get.
Took Flynn to one of little friend's birthday party yesterday from noon to three, hot day out, he skipped his nap, fairly exhausting. Then we drove out here. The best way to deal with living with Diane is to just ignore her. She says stupid things and drives like shit, just close my eyes except when we're actually about to have an accident. "Whoa Pook. Whoa Pook. Whoa Pook. Please do not kill us."
I mean, can't you SEE that car merging into this lane, getting on the freeway? Maybe driving 75 in the slow lane is not a good idea? What do *you* think, Honey? I think you're not all there, there is something missing from your makeup, there is a chunk missing and you don't even know it.
Flynn is now three. I was planning on staying for 18 months. Three years is 36 months. I'm good and sick of Diane in every way by this time. Smoking, the dog, stupidity, lack of some elemental block of character...
Unhappy with Diane. As evidenced by my IMMENSE size, I've never been fatter than this. I eat and drink to block out Diane. I just want to blot it all out. Go ahead, say the stupidest things you can, I'm going to drink four beers and retire to my little room and ignore you, dream of other days and basically NOT BE HERE WITH YOU.
I'd really like to establish and maintain at least a diary of who does what with Flynn and account for hours and activities, I think that would be a real eye-opener in six months.
My family seems to like Diane just fine. THEY CAN HAVE HER. I'll take Flynn.
Flynn has been really uppity since my return from Baja and his Hawaii trip.
Would also like to get a small video camera to record just how things Diane says lead to conflict. I don't see or expect how demonstrating or even charting out how the things she says and does lead to conflict, by this time I do not believe that Diane is all there.
What else? Not much. Work continues. Yawn. The house is ok, I guess. Moved the bricks I'd bought back to where I'm going to position them, bought two more 50 lb. bags of sand on Friday after going to the market after picking up the VW parts after picking up the new clothes.
Wore the new clothes yesterday, looked nice, it was hot out, though. I may be nicely dressed, but I'm still really fat.
Wearing contact lenses, finally ran across those yesterday. Kind of a change.
What else? Have to replace the points and condensor on the Campmobile, try and set the timing and all that. Running very poorly. Also some white smoke from the port scoop. Oil on the engine? Valve is shot? I do not own a compression tester, I'm unsure what the condition of the engine is.
Was thinking of a BMW 2002, that would be fun. No money, of course.
What else? Not much else.
---
2010: Messages from the past like this remind me of what my married life was like, and it was not pleasant. Diane ended up having some kind of mental breakdown or whatever you'd call it. Which has been going on and on and on for five years, now. At least she never participated in our family life, which was good as far as carrying on without was concerned for the kids, who have never once said "I miss mom" or anything of the sort. Go figure. But, God, I remember those horrible days of being with her and being so unhappy and so dissatisfied -- it was really miserable. I mean, it was really bad. I wish that I could say that I missed her even a little bit, but that simply is not the case at all. As far from that as you can get.
Saturday, July 05, 1997
King's River rafting trip
Loaded up the Campmobile with everything that we could fit inside it Thursday night, got a good early start 4th of July morning, headed up to Orange County to deposit our offspring with my wife's parents.
Kept the speed at or under 57 as I would all weekend since the oil temperature gauge had croaked a few days before the trip. Was anxious about it but figured that maintaining a reduced speed was the best way to go, since trying to swap the gauges (had a spare) was suffering from a lack of steam on my part at 11:30 the night before...
Incredibly, there was NO traffic all the way through Orange County and Los Angeles (thank you God!). Made our way north on the 5 and slowly climbed the Grapevine. Had a big plant sprayer and made liberal use of it to keep cool, it was good and hot out 4th of July moving through the baked hills. Per Jack Stafford's Baja advice I had set the timing at 4 or 5 degrees BTDC versus 7.5, seemed to give me a lot more pedal... not any extra power, but the engine wasn't straining. Nice sedate acceleration.
Got to the top of Tejon Pass (4100 ft.), patted the dashboard, good girl...
Basically drove all day, eventually got to Fresno and headed towards the mountains through endless fields and farmland (nice country!). Stopped at a store and bought a flat of eggs since we'd managed to forget to pack the eggs we had at home, got lost, found the right road, continued along. Was using 92 octane Unocal 76 gas, noticed a surprising rise in gas mileage.
We got to the hills and then to the mountains, going by the odometer to follow the directions to the rafting camp. The roads got twisty and turny, my least favorite kind of driving, the worst part being the folks in Ford Explorers and sports cars zipping around blind corners on a VERY narrow mountain road barely etched into the mountainside far above the beautiful lake. Yipes! Don't they see that this is a spot where it would pay significant dividends to SLOW THE HELL DOWN A LITTLE?!
Was glad as we got farther into the mountains and passed the last of the marinas and boat ramps, the traffic diminished to zero. Saw another bay window coming the other way!! Big smiles and I waved, he flashed me the peace sign. That was nice, liked that.
Crossed another bridge, found the rafting camp, everyone else (trip was planned through a club at my wife's employer) was sleeping in tents and we set up the Campmobile across the road from the river in the parking lot, popped the top and started dinner in the Dutch ovens, baked some chicken, baked some potatoes, roasted some corn on the cob. Wrapped the chicken before baking it, my wife seemed to enjoy it more that way, I like the chicken better when it's baked without being wrapped. Anyway. It was a good hot meal that beat the hell out of P&B sandwiches or trail mix!!!
Turned out that the raft trip package did not include dinner Friday or breakfast Saturday. We had brought extra food and shared that with some of my wife's co-workers who had made the trip (with no food or water! amazing!). Turned out that we put the entire flat of eggs to good use Saturday morning cooking up a big batch of scrambled eggs for everyone, great visual breaking the eggs into a big plastic bowl with the rising sun shining behind me, had the bowl on top of the Coleman cooler inside the Campmobile, was standing outside working fast to thwart the flies... the sunlight illuminated the bowl and the brilliant yellow yolks of the fresh farm eggs, it was truly a fine sight!
Big batch of biscuits were a little brown but not doughy, cooked up the leftover baked potatoes from Friday night's dinner into German fried potatoes, fed everybody who wasn't too hung over to eat. Explained what a Dutch oven was and how it worked. If I'd had a pile of spare ones I could have sold them. I felt the same way when I saw Jeff (?) at the CCC June campout last year with a Dutch oven! "What is that thing?"
Received many compliments on the Campmobile, as this was another non-VW trip. Enjoyed showing off the bits and pieces we've installed. Especially enjoyed the 12V fans and lights, now running off the auxiliary battery. Was trying a small 110V lamp with a 300V inverter and a fluorescent bulb from Home Depot, it burned out pretty quickly. No loss, the 12V lights were ample to read by and tinker by. And to power the radio. Not sure if the fluorescent bulbs just don't abide well with the inverter or what, not in a hurry to spend another $7 on a fluorescent bulb to experiment again, though! Slept downstairs as that's where the fans and lights are (not the mention the icebox!).
The rafting itself was a BLAST and I highly recommend it, we went with Spirit Whitewater, check out their web pages. The guides were friendly, the equipment was clean and functional, the river was SENSATIONALLY BEAUTIFUL! The King's River is one of the last undammed rivers in California, and though my wife seemed to want even larger rapids, I was perfectly happy with the water here towards the end of the rafting season. Went back to the Campmobile and my wife napped while I picked things up and got them semi-organized (organization is a state not unlike a state of grace, something to aim towards but seldom achieved...)
Down about half a quart of oil, and the Kendall 20/50 didn't look spent or burnt at all, which I was happy to see. Worried me making this trip without a functioning oil temp gauge.
Packed everything up pretty early Sunday, raked the ashes into the dirt where the Dutch ovens had been used, lent out one of the coolers and some leftover ice, prayed and the Campmobile started up first time (hooray!), threaded our way back down the twisting road with the early light dramatically shining on the scenery. Kept it down to about 25 mph and didn't have any hot dogs on our tail. Guess they were all hung over.
Good and hot again on Sunday, kept the speed at about 57. Stopped for half an hour before climbing the Grapevine, stretched our legs and popped the engine hatch to let the engine and oil cool down. Didn't want to push my luck. Followed a big tanker truck up the hill, only too happy to be driving 35 or so. Amazing to see people in big pickups racing up the hill hauling boats! Can they afford to replace their cars every couple of years!?? That's gotta take a real toll on an engine. Hit the summit listening to Cassidy from a Grateful Dead bootleg tape, the conflict in that song resolving itself just about the moment we crested the mountain -- flight of the seabird, scattered like lost words, wheel to the storm and fly
The drive home was uneventful aside from the usual handful of morons driving way too fast and leaving way too little room while passing (or tailgating!). Read traffic and avoided what I thought was about to be a sensational five car pile up in Los Angeles, I can't stand driving through LA any more, it's too big and there are too many cars, the air is opaque, everybody drives like they're a movie star or a big executive on their way to some big deal... nightmares!
Was happy to pull into my wife's parents' house and get the little guy back from Grandma and Grandpa, was even happier to round the bend at Capo Beach and feel the gloriously cool ocean air. The mist from the sprayer wasn't as much of a life support system as it had been previously!
Pulled up in front of our house, laid a hand on the engine compartment... didn't burn my hand, the bumper was hot from the exhaust but the Campmobile passed its final pre-Baja shakedown without any trouble. I guess I'm as ready as I'm going to get.
Wednesday, July 02, 1997
wednesday
Worked, went from work to the auto parts store, bought two cases
of Kendall 40 weight oil and some bits and pieces, went to the
art store, bought some magnetic strips and a glue gun to make
bug screens with, went to KMart, ran into Diane and Flynn, bought
four black tshirts (unfortunately with pockets), a paper towel rack
for the Campmobile, metallic screens to help keep heat out of the
Campmobile, batteries, et cetera... bought some new underwhere and
went home. No, went to Home Depot, bought some screen material,
et cetera... bought a little lamp at KMart, bought a fluorescent bulb
at Home Depot, plugged it in to the converter... a nice little lamp
in the Campmobile!!!
Still have a lot of stuff to do, no idea when I can possibly get to it...
of Kendall 40 weight oil and some bits and pieces, went to the
art store, bought some magnetic strips and a glue gun to make
bug screens with, went to KMart, ran into Diane and Flynn, bought
four black tshirts (unfortunately with pockets), a paper towel rack
for the Campmobile, metallic screens to help keep heat out of the
Campmobile, batteries, et cetera... bought some new underwhere and
went home. No, went to Home Depot, bought some screen material,
et cetera... bought a little lamp at KMart, bought a fluorescent bulb
at Home Depot, plugged it in to the converter... a nice little lamp
in the Campmobile!!!
Still have a lot of stuff to do, no idea when I can possibly get to it...
Sunday, May 25, 1997
Pistachio Adventure
Got an e-mail from a friend on Friday (didn't play hooky on Friday, meaning that actually making it to Fremont Peak wasn't likely) asking for help pruning their pistachio trees out in the high desert of southern California. She'd lost her mother to a sudden and brutal bout with cancer the previous week, so I figured they could use the support and I could use a slightly less distant shakedown for the Baja trip.
Managed to not prepare a thing before Saturday morning, stumbled to the market, bought some ice, beer, chicken, corn, added those items to the pile of camping stuff already in the Campmobile. Sure like having the extra space in the Westy now that the spare is on the snout rack. Filled it up with 89 octane and headed north from San Diego on the 15.
Overcast day, kept it about 60, oil temp behaved. Made the Cajon Pass in 3rd, 4000 feet give or take. Followed the sketchy directions out into an area I'd never been in. Dramatic rock outcroppings and scrub brush unlike the lower desert I'm more familiar with. Stopped once I got to the last town on the map and tanked up again, headed out past the last fast food franchise, looking for "where the power lines begin again" and "a blue water pole surrounded by four yellow water poles".
Found the unpaved road mentioned in the directions. Now I know what a washboard road is. Took it at 1 mph and my fillings still rattled loose. My friend hadn't mentioned the name of their place, so I drove about a mile up the washboard road, figured the first place I passed looked like it had pistachio trees (hey, it had trees, and I was sick of driving/vibrating). Made a sloppy three point turn (did I mention the washboard had soft sand on its edges?), fortunately the sinking feeling I got when the wheels hit the sand wasn't permanent. Rattled back to the first place, vaguely remembered the acronym from a photo my friend had shown me once.
Pulled in, more soft sand, got out, no one shot at me, figured this was a plus. Introduced myself, yup, right place, got to work. Met my friend's two sisters and her father and his partners in the ranch.
Simple, repetitive work slitting two inches ("And not two man-inches" explained one of her sisters) above the T-bud on the trees. Real quiet out there. Worked hard all day. Knocked off about 5:30, got myself some water and used a clean wet shop rag to clean myself off, changed T shirts, rinsed out the shirt I'd been wearing in my 10" dutch oven, wrung it out, rolled the collar up in the passenger side window to dry (worked pretty well!). Opened up a beer, pulled out my portable radio, commenced to cook some chicken in the 12" dutch oven, made small talk, showed off the Campmobile.
One of the guys that had shown up with his Navy buddy in the afternoon to work had a 4.0 liter Jeep which he managed to get stuck on a berm just off the washboard road, helped free that, got a couple of lungfulls of dust and popped my shoulder a couple of times freeing it.
People were amazed with the Campmobile. I wasn't expecting that, they continually remarked about how self-contained it was. This was the first time my friend's father had been to the ranch since his wife's death the week before, the work had slid due to her terminal illness. When we wrapped up for the day, her father (intelligent and articulate) expressed a casual interest in sleeping in the Campmobile, after four "stingers" (hard liquor drink) he said he was ready to turn in.
I motivated over to the Campmobile and made the downstairs berth ready. I was bemused, hadn't expected to be displaced from my little space ship, though I understood that spending a night alone in the trailer where he'd spent time working on the ranch with his wife wasn't attractive. I was happy to share the space.
Took a walk right after that to the end of their 30 acres thinking about why life has so many hard edges, what it all means, et cetera. Real nice sunset, very dramatic mountains in the last rays of light. Walked back, got the chicken and delicious corn, had dinner with everybody who hadn't eaten yet, volunteered to do the dishes, helped my friend's father's partners (very nice older couple) around the trailer. Made conversation and was a pleasant guest.
I elected not to go to the nearest wide spot in the road with a liquor license with my friend, her sisters, and three guys who were working there this weekend. Hung out with one of the partners and one of the worker's drop-dead-gorgeous 17 year old daughter, talked about the illness and death of my friend's mother, talked about how her father was doing. Got to be around 10:30, they were ready to turn in. I had thought I might sleep inside, but felt uncomfortable sleeping in the same room with this gorgeous 17 year old, so excused myself, went outside, hoisted myself up to the upstairs berth in the Campmobile with a borrowed blanket (my friend's father had my sleeping bag and my Indian blanket). Got settled in the pitch black, listened to the very pleasant rain like sound of the silver dollar leaves of the trees near the trailer.
What seemed like about three minutes after I'd actually fallen asleep, I heard a drunken argument between a friend of my friend's father's and her active duty Navy boyfriend. Ignored it until I heard her say "don't you f***** hit me!" God, do I have to get out of bed and do battle with a drunken sailor at three o'clock in the morning? They were right outside of the Campmobile, it was impossible to miss. They continued exchanging obscenities without violence (Thank You God) for another forty minutes or so. Really unpleasant. I do not understand ugliness like that.
If my friend's father hadn't have been crashed downstairs, I'd have split at the time. The things the guy was saying to her were inexcusable. My friend's father woke up and exited via the driver's door prior to sunup (couldn't figure out the side door amidst the clutter and darkness). I snoozed until the sun came up, climbed downstairs, took a leak in the porta potty, dug out the coffee maker and coffee and denatured alcohol one burner stove. Took another fast swipe at myself with a wet shop rag, changed t shirts again, got dressed to work (long sleeve shirt, Levis, big funky lifeguard hat). The girls were still snoozing. Packed my stuff back up in the Campmobile, folded its top back down. My friend's father came out, handed him a cup of coffee since it was just then ready, chatted about a '63 bug he once owned, the Campmobile, the fate of the post-79 Type 2s and the flawed Vanagon engine design. My friend came out and gave her dad a hug, we chatted for a while while I tried to comb the tangles out of my hair (and about a pound of sand from the sand geysers that guy's stuck jeep wheels shot up on our heads).
Went out on my own with the hacksaw and trimmers, did a few rows of trees, noticed my co-workers had headed back for breakfast early after their late start. Did a couple more rows of trees, my friend found me, headed back to the Campmobile, drank four cups of water, had a couple pieces of bacon and some pancakes, made conversation, said goodbye to my friend and headed home, didn't want to stick around after overhearing the ugly argument, sure didn't want to say squat to the guy. Figured this was the most graceful way to get out of there ASAP.
Tooled back towards civilization, had a harbinger of what was to come: woman in a minivan PLASTERED to my rear bumper, didn't take a tap on the brakes to heart. She could see that she couldn't pass due to oncoming traffic, but didn't back off. Irritating. Happily pulled over a bit as soon as the coast was clear and she hauled ass around me -- nice Christian sticker on the back of her mini van. Go figure.
Except for a period of time following an RV at 50 mph, the drive home was hellish, driver after driver tailgating me and making extremely unsafe lane changes to get around me, and I'm in the slow lane! Makes no sense to me. As always, no Highway Patrol to be seen at all, anywhere, ever. Since when is the speed limit 90? C'est incredible! Truly wouldn't mind a .22 revolver to shoot out the occasional window of a tailgating car -- I think that would really get some a*hole's attention.
Sun was out, oil temp was up around 240 by the time I made the top of Cajon Pass, was real happy to follow a semi slowly down the grade and watch the oil temp drop down to 190 by the time we hit the 3000 ft. mark. Campmobile ran great all the way home, I just can't figure the brutal and unnecessary driving habits of all them geeks in Ford Explorers and the like. I just do not get it. Kept to myself in the slow lane driving 50-60 depending on the grades and the oil temp. Should have put in 40 wt but the FLAPS was out and I had some 20-50 to use (this is the previous week).
Got home, took a shower, untangled my hair. Was very happy to see my wife and son and my mother, still recuperating from her own cancer surgery, resting on our living room couch. Felt very grateful that we were together after seeing how ripped up my friend's family was. Counted my blessings.
Managed to not prepare a thing before Saturday morning, stumbled to the market, bought some ice, beer, chicken, corn, added those items to the pile of camping stuff already in the Campmobile. Sure like having the extra space in the Westy now that the spare is on the snout rack. Filled it up with 89 octane and headed north from San Diego on the 15.
Overcast day, kept it about 60, oil temp behaved. Made the Cajon Pass in 3rd, 4000 feet give or take. Followed the sketchy directions out into an area I'd never been in. Dramatic rock outcroppings and scrub brush unlike the lower desert I'm more familiar with. Stopped once I got to the last town on the map and tanked up again, headed out past the last fast food franchise, looking for "where the power lines begin again" and "a blue water pole surrounded by four yellow water poles".
Found the unpaved road mentioned in the directions. Now I know what a washboard road is. Took it at 1 mph and my fillings still rattled loose. My friend hadn't mentioned the name of their place, so I drove about a mile up the washboard road, figured the first place I passed looked like it had pistachio trees (hey, it had trees, and I was sick of driving/vibrating). Made a sloppy three point turn (did I mention the washboard had soft sand on its edges?), fortunately the sinking feeling I got when the wheels hit the sand wasn't permanent. Rattled back to the first place, vaguely remembered the acronym from a photo my friend had shown me once.
Pulled in, more soft sand, got out, no one shot at me, figured this was a plus. Introduced myself, yup, right place, got to work. Met my friend's two sisters and her father and his partners in the ranch.
Simple, repetitive work slitting two inches ("And not two man-inches" explained one of her sisters) above the T-bud on the trees. Real quiet out there. Worked hard all day. Knocked off about 5:30, got myself some water and used a clean wet shop rag to clean myself off, changed T shirts, rinsed out the shirt I'd been wearing in my 10" dutch oven, wrung it out, rolled the collar up in the passenger side window to dry (worked pretty well!). Opened up a beer, pulled out my portable radio, commenced to cook some chicken in the 12" dutch oven, made small talk, showed off the Campmobile.
One of the guys that had shown up with his Navy buddy in the afternoon to work had a 4.0 liter Jeep which he managed to get stuck on a berm just off the washboard road, helped free that, got a couple of lungfulls of dust and popped my shoulder a couple of times freeing it.
People were amazed with the Campmobile. I wasn't expecting that, they continually remarked about how self-contained it was. This was the first time my friend's father had been to the ranch since his wife's death the week before, the work had slid due to her terminal illness. When we wrapped up for the day, her father (intelligent and articulate) expressed a casual interest in sleeping in the Campmobile, after four "stingers" (hard liquor drink) he said he was ready to turn in.
I motivated over to the Campmobile and made the downstairs berth ready. I was bemused, hadn't expected to be displaced from my little space ship, though I understood that spending a night alone in the trailer where he'd spent time working on the ranch with his wife wasn't attractive. I was happy to share the space.
Took a walk right after that to the end of their 30 acres thinking about why life has so many hard edges, what it all means, et cetera. Real nice sunset, very dramatic mountains in the last rays of light. Walked back, got the chicken and delicious corn, had dinner with everybody who hadn't eaten yet, volunteered to do the dishes, helped my friend's father's partners (very nice older couple) around the trailer. Made conversation and was a pleasant guest.
I elected not to go to the nearest wide spot in the road with a liquor license with my friend, her sisters, and three guys who were working there this weekend. Hung out with one of the partners and one of the worker's drop-dead-gorgeous 17 year old daughter, talked about the illness and death of my friend's mother, talked about how her father was doing. Got to be around 10:30, they were ready to turn in. I had thought I might sleep inside, but felt uncomfortable sleeping in the same room with this gorgeous 17 year old, so excused myself, went outside, hoisted myself up to the upstairs berth in the Campmobile with a borrowed blanket (my friend's father had my sleeping bag and my Indian blanket). Got settled in the pitch black, listened to the very pleasant rain like sound of the silver dollar leaves of the trees near the trailer.
What seemed like about three minutes after I'd actually fallen asleep, I heard a drunken argument between a friend of my friend's father's and her active duty Navy boyfriend. Ignored it until I heard her say "don't you f***** hit me!" God, do I have to get out of bed and do battle with a drunken sailor at three o'clock in the morning? They were right outside of the Campmobile, it was impossible to miss. They continued exchanging obscenities without violence (Thank You God) for another forty minutes or so. Really unpleasant. I do not understand ugliness like that.
If my friend's father hadn't have been crashed downstairs, I'd have split at the time. The things the guy was saying to her were inexcusable. My friend's father woke up and exited via the driver's door prior to sunup (couldn't figure out the side door amidst the clutter and darkness). I snoozed until the sun came up, climbed downstairs, took a leak in the porta potty, dug out the coffee maker and coffee and denatured alcohol one burner stove. Took another fast swipe at myself with a wet shop rag, changed t shirts again, got dressed to work (long sleeve shirt, Levis, big funky lifeguard hat). The girls were still snoozing. Packed my stuff back up in the Campmobile, folded its top back down. My friend's father came out, handed him a cup of coffee since it was just then ready, chatted about a '63 bug he once owned, the Campmobile, the fate of the post-79 Type 2s and the flawed Vanagon engine design. My friend came out and gave her dad a hug, we chatted for a while while I tried to comb the tangles out of my hair (and about a pound of sand from the sand geysers that guy's stuck jeep wheels shot up on our heads).
Went out on my own with the hacksaw and trimmers, did a few rows of trees, noticed my co-workers had headed back for breakfast early after their late start. Did a couple more rows of trees, my friend found me, headed back to the Campmobile, drank four cups of water, had a couple pieces of bacon and some pancakes, made conversation, said goodbye to my friend and headed home, didn't want to stick around after overhearing the ugly argument, sure didn't want to say squat to the guy. Figured this was the most graceful way to get out of there ASAP.
Tooled back towards civilization, had a harbinger of what was to come: woman in a minivan PLASTERED to my rear bumper, didn't take a tap on the brakes to heart. She could see that she couldn't pass due to oncoming traffic, but didn't back off. Irritating. Happily pulled over a bit as soon as the coast was clear and she hauled ass around me -- nice Christian sticker on the back of her mini van. Go figure.
Except for a period of time following an RV at 50 mph, the drive home was hellish, driver after driver tailgating me and making extremely unsafe lane changes to get around me, and I'm in the slow lane! Makes no sense to me. As always, no Highway Patrol to be seen at all, anywhere, ever. Since when is the speed limit 90? C'est incredible! Truly wouldn't mind a .22 revolver to shoot out the occasional window of a tailgating car -- I think that would really get some a*hole's attention.
Sun was out, oil temp was up around 240 by the time I made the top of Cajon Pass, was real happy to follow a semi slowly down the grade and watch the oil temp drop down to 190 by the time we hit the 3000 ft. mark. Campmobile ran great all the way home, I just can't figure the brutal and unnecessary driving habits of all them geeks in Ford Explorers and the like. I just do not get it. Kept to myself in the slow lane driving 50-60 depending on the grades and the oil temp. Should have put in 40 wt but the FLAPS was out and I had some 20-50 to use (this is the previous week).
Got home, took a shower, untangled my hair. Was very happy to see my wife and son and my mother, still recuperating from her own cancer surgery, resting on our living room couch. Felt very grateful that we were together after seeing how ripped up my friend's family was. Counted my blessings.
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