Just a few of them, anyway.

http://picasaweb.google.com/ktpage/2007RoadTripPicsInNoParticularOrder#slideshow

Current Mood: amused

Or at least going to parades when it's lighter outside, you know. That sort of thing.

This isn't a revival of the trip blog, but I wanted to throw up some pics from the Pride parade for Buck, Traci and Vernold.

Series 1: The Parade & Afterparty (in Seattle Center International Fountain)
























Series 2: Vern & Traci's Very Special Kind of Love





Series 3: For Buck
The sign says it all.




Finally, belonging both to Series 2 & 3:



Arm candy for all!

Current Mood: Too lazy to sign up for picasa

but I'm still getting in trouble with various folks for not having posted any updates. So: Hello, there. I did not drop off the face of the earth. In fact, I am alive and well, and back to life in Seattle.

The thing about returning to your life is that there's still so much crap to do all the time, and you never get around to doing so much of it. For instance, you might be ready to attempt some profound summary of your road trip, but your dog is bouncing off the walls because she needs a walk. And after that, there are roughly 20 errands you should be running. The blog never wins. And it shouldn't.

At some point I'll put a whole bunch of trip pictures on shutterfly or flickr or picasa or somewhere, and then post the link here. But this was a trip blog, and the trip is officially over. Maybe another trip will start it up again someday.

I hope this finds you well, and perhaps about to embark on a great adventure, yourself. Send me the link?

The engine is still trucking, as it were. But mostly I wanted to wish my friend Garth a very happy birthday, because he is now an old codger at 31.

And by that I mean it looks and sounds like an entirely different car. The engine is two years newer (although slightly crustier) and has 100,000 fewer miles on it.

Fingers crossed.

Car engine: Kablooey!

Me: $*@#.

Nine out of ten local car lots and salvage yards:
$100.

Me: ONE HUNDRED DOLLARS? For my ENTIRE CAR?

Them: Yep.

Me: But that's, like, the core fee on the engine. And it's got a lot of new parts. And tires.

Them: Guess so.

Tenth salvage yard: Not interested.

Rental car companies: Cheapest car'll be $100 a day, unless you can bring it back here.

Me: ONE HUNDRED DOLLARS? A DAY?

Them: Yep.

Me: So I can pay $500 for a new engine, and then again for labor, or I can pay many hundreds of dollars anyway and not have a car?

Used car lots: Unless you want to trade it in on an old overpriced Chevy Malibu. Got a lot of those around here.

Me: But then I'd have an old Chevy Malibu.

Them: Guess so.

Emma: Look, a cat! On the other side of this muddy field that smells like rotten eggs! Wheee!

****

That's not all the fun there's been, mind you, but it gives an idea. My favorite part was the tow truck driver who showed up at the shop an hour earlier than we'd agreed on, and so towed my car to another town without the key that was still inside the shop, making it somewhat difficult for the mechanic in the other town to get started. Seriously, if I get so much as a flat tire in the next six months, I will lose my very last marble.

In honor of the salvage yard that will be providing my new engine, however, here are some pictures of trash from around the country.

Current Mood: You can probably guess.

I've been taking a bit of a sabbatical from my vacation, if that's possible. Well, mostly just from the picture taking and reporting. I might be the laziest person alive.

Am also guilty of driving right past perfectly interesting and recommended towns. Like Niagra Falls. Who skips Niagra Falls? Just didn't feel like stopping right then. Driving is fun. Especially when the car works.

Maybe the audiobooks are to blame. Man, are they good. (Thanks, Lauren!)

Found another contender for best diner experience, though, in Albany, NY. It was raining and half the place was flooded, but the regulars were also pouring in. Because everybody was packed closer together, the conversation got pretty lively. And that was before the off-duty cops showed up and the hostess started taking calls on her cell phone to mediate some family problems from the front counter. Plus the food (hashbrowns, eggs, toast, coffee and a strawberry milkshake) was fast and perfect at 10 p.m.

Three cheers for New Yawk.

and that stands for pool.

So the car is fixed, although my faith in random mechanics is pretty much toast. The place I got towed to replaced the fuel pump, which was fine, but then called back to say that the alternator was also shot. What an unfortunate coincidence, that my car happens to be in your shop when something completely different goes wrong! I made a big stink about it and asked all kinds of annoying questions, but there wasn't much else I was really prepared to do. In the end they didn't charge for labor on the alternator, threw in a free oil change and we called it a day, not wanting to deal with each other any more. I guess we'll just see how much farther that gets us.

That said, it hasn't been very far yet.

One of the highways through Louisville goes past The Bank Shot, which is an old bank building that's now a pool hall. I'm not capable of driving past something like that. It was worth stopping. Family owned and operated for almost two decades. Music was quiet and unobtrusive. All kinds of folks playing some great pool. $4 an hour on lovely tables. I swear their 19 oz. house cue is the same one I own. And the best part, the crowd of older gentlemen hanging out during the afternoon, talking politics and making fun of each other's shots. I liked it so much I decided to stay in town and come back to shoot a little more that night. Met some great people. Most of them said I should stick around town for a few more days because their pre-derby celebration is worth it, including a parade and some very impressive fireworks.

Haven't decided yet. Emma's not much a fan of fireworks.

At any rate, here are my two favorite cows in the Kentucky countryside.

My car finally broke down, which isn't entirely unexpected, considering the car and what I'm putting it through. By "broke down," I mean it wouldn't start up all the way. Turns over fine, but just won't catch. Possibly something like the fuel pump. For those who don't know from the pictures, my car is a high-performance vehicle, otherwise known as a little green 1997 wagon. Named Evinrude, after that dragonfly from The Rescuers.

People will say it's silly to name a car, or to entertain the thought that a car is more than a machine made up of parts.

But here's the thing. Where did my car decide to break down? Where did it "strand" me?

The Bourbon Capital of the World.

That's the official motto of Bardstown, Kentucky. Where I'll be spending a little extra time, perusing the bourbon heritage museum, most likely. And where everything seems to be within walking distance, including the spot where Evinrude decided to give up the ghost. After I'd found a good place to stay and unloaded all my stuff, and had a nice dinner as well as a nightcap at the closest watering hole. I guess I could feel stranded, somehow, but I just don't.

Incidentally, thanks for that upgraded AAA membership, Pop. You're a hero, as always.

Further bulletins as events warrant.

Taxes are never fun, but doing them while traveling across the country is a special kind of stupid. Unfortunately, I owe, so I can't really get an extension without having to calculate everything, anyway. It's all over now, but I can't resist posting that H&R Block is now on my $h!t list. Yes, I saved the actual transcript so I could share part of it.

Bob [not his real name]: Hello, welcome to H&R Block's TaxCut Online Chat Support in
North America! How can we assist you today?
Me: Hi, I'm having trouble with the secure Message Board that we're supposed to use.
Me: It keeps coming up as a blank window, so I can't read the messages from my "tax
professional."
Bob: May I have a moment to research some information for you?
Me: Sure.
[Three or four minutes go by.]
Bob: Thank you for holding.
Bob: So you are able to access your message board but you are unable to
read your information.
Me: Yep. The window opens, and the title reads "Authenticate user", and
it stops loading, with nothing else.
Bob: You can please call 1-888-4taxcut to see if they have a fix for this issue.
Me: I was hoping you might have a fix for it. Is that 888 number customer service or tech support?
Bob: Customer service.
Me: So aren't you tech support?
Bob: Yes.
Me: Isn't this kind of a technical issue?
Bob: Customer service have [sic] access to more information then [sic] I do, if I can't find a fix from my resources, most likely they have it.
Me: I don't understand why customer service has access to more technical resources than tech support.
Bob: I apologize for the inconvenience.

Needless to say, Bob won that round. I never did get the Message Board to work.

But anyway. What's important is this.

I'm getting my next oil change tomorrow. That's 9,000 miles and counting.

Woke up this morning to a ton of rain and all the storm warnings. Thought about the smell of lots of wet dog hair in a confined space for hours on end. Decided to just drive out of the weather. Slightly southwest, to Kentucky. It's not every day that can happen. Bought a new air freshener, though, just in case.

If you've read this far, you will not be rewarded with the following joke from a book that was actually for sale near the cash register of the nearby Bob Evans:

Knock knock!
Who's there?
Hummus.
Hummus who?
Hummus remember this, a kiss is just a kiss.

Does that even work? I ask you.

Not that I could write an entire book of knock-knock jokes, but maybe that's because nobody should write an entire book of knock-knock jokes. Or at least not an 80-page one.

Another:
Knock knock!
Who's there?
Bear.
Bear who?
Please bear with me, I would like some honey.

The pun is completely in the wrong place! I mean, come on.