The Thanks and The Support

I really just wanted to take a brief second to thank everyone who supported this sudden, life changing switcharoo I decided to do. And I’m mean everyone, from the friends and family who wished me the best and didn’t tell me I was crazy (even though everyone was thinking it, including myself). Thank you to the friends who dropped everything to hang out and say goodbye to me my last few days in Houston, and the friend who went out of his way to organize it all. The friends I talked to on the trip to keep myself sane through all the trials and tribulations. The family who called me out of the blue to give me advice on what to do with my car.

As thankful as I am to everyone, there’s a few I’d like to thank a bit more specifically. I have to thank my grandparents for letting me stay with them for a few days midway. For loading up my cooler with fresh ice and a restock of food. For taking me out to see the sights and get my mind off of everything that had happened so far. So thank you guys, meant a lot to me.

I also want to thank The Pixie, for dealing with me on the phone whenever I felt the need to call her. For listening to me vent and scream and cuss when I had to deal with my car or the other problems. For being the one to push me over the edge and actually decide to go through with what was only an idea at first.

I have to thank my little brother, for keeping my secret the last few days. For not going off on me to hard, even though I know he thought I was making a huge mistake. For staying up til 3am to help me pack the last few things and say goodbye, even though he had to be awake at 7am himself. For making me a hella good mix CD to listen to and for writing me that letter I’ll always keep.

I’d be remiss if I didn’t thank Neo and Arec, for offering someone they had never met a place to stay, and for not kicking me out once they met me. For being patient as my two day trip turned into a 7 day trip. For all the help they’ve given in the job hunt, and for having to deal with me when It hasn’t gone so well.

I’m going to thank my mom and stepdad as well, for only questioning if this was what I wanted to do once, then supporting me all the way through when I said it was. For buying my car a new battery, since the old one had never been replaced. For loading me up with two coolers and a duffel bag full of food so I wouldn’t have to stop and spend money on fast food crap. For being with me on the phone during every little hiccup, organizing my help from far away Houston. For loving me and letting me love them back.

And last but not least I have to thank my dad. Thank him for giving birth to this restart, even if it was in a messed up way. Thank him for not disowning me completely after finding out I was 4 hours down the road to moving away, without having told him of my plans. Thank him for shelling out the credit card to get my fucked up car fixed to getme up here, and for not grumbling to much about it. Thank him for organizing places for me to sleep while the car was getting fixed, again. And to thank him for still loving me, even after all the bullshit we’ve put each other through.

The Final Drive and The House

I made it in, finally. Fallon, Nevada. And let me tell you, not what I’d expected from -anywhere- in Nevada. Its green, and farmlandy. I’d really expect it to be somewhere in Texas or Oklahoma or something. I was literally driving through brown mountains and then about 10 miles from where Fallon was supposed to be I came up over a hill and BAM a big wide open green valley spread out before me.

I’m all settled in to, got my sheets on the bed, tv set up on the igloo, and of course my comp unpacked and running. More news tomorrow sometime, when theres more to say.

Oh and let me just say, next time anyone hears me even -mention- an across the country roadtrip, put the gun to my head and pull the damn trigger, cause I have lost my mind.

The Hotel and The Hope

Well, here it is, 7 am in Henderson, Nevada. I’ve been up for an hour, trying to get through to the warranty information center, which I have finally done so. I have the name and phone number of Pete’s Auto Clinic, and an estimate on the tow there (70 bucks, with 60 back from the warranty).  The problem is, Pete’s isn’t quite open yet. So now I’m sitting here in my hotel room, clock ticking down and all I can think about is “God I hope this is the end of this shit.”

I’m fucking tired of it. Fed up, overwhelmed, exhausted at the process, whatever the fuck you wanna call it. I just want to be done, finished and settled in to my new temporary home in Fallon.

On the plus side, the Hawthorne Inn and Suites hotel room I stayed in was actually pretty damn nice.

Fuck The Universe Fucking Me

I was all set to write a post about my day friday. About Sedona and Gerome and the beautilful drive through the mingus mts, with pictures and all. About my fat ass hiking 3 miles to the bottom of oak creek canyon. But after today, I really don’t fucking feel like it.

I left Prescott with my car starting ang running just fine. I stop just outside of Kingman Arizona to get gas, so I wouldn’t have to try and stop in LV.  Come out and the car won’t start, again. After all we fucking did to it at my grandparents house. Some nice fellas from Texas are driving by and stop toi help me out. They just happen to be Auto Rescue, roadside assitance and will take a look at jumping me for free. Hell yes, maybe this won’t be so bad. Try to get it jumped, no good. Hook up the little tester doohickey, battery has full power. I try to start again for the guy, he says its the starter. Fuck me, again and again.

So I call a tow service, pay 100 bucks for a tow to the only open repair place and then fork over 600 for the reapir and the part. Fuckity, fuck fuck. Another big ole wad of cash I now owe my dad. 5 hours later, and I’m all fixed and ready to go, warranty on the work in hand. Oh and wait, before I go, mr. old ass mechanic tells me that he thinks the battery is bad to.

See, this is a new battery, still under the o’reilly guarentee and all that jazz. Not so bad, I can stop off at the Checker store in Henderson, get it tested and possibly replaced. Get there, take the battery out, test all, all good. Shrug my shoulders and fire up the old bitch. Or, I should say, turn the key and hear a click fucking click click. Me and the guy at Checkers autoparts spend a good hour trying everything we can, still no fucking good.

So I call the free verizon roadside assistance that we have, they come out and try to jump me. No fucking good either. The guy listens for a second and says its my starter. Yes thats right, my fucking starter. The one that was replaced today. I’m fucking fuming as I call the warranty place only to get a nice little recorded message.

“Our office hours are 8am to 8pm, eastern, from monday to friday.”

Fuck me some more in new and different ways. So now i have no choice but to get a hotel room and settle in til monday. So I call our ‘free’ roadside assistance for a tow and get told thats its only ‘free’ once every 72 fucking hours. So I get a hotel within walking distance of checker and then proceed to drag all of my shit that i can from my car to the hotel, in about 100 degree heat. Awesome.

So here I am, wondering when the universe is gonna start fucking me again.

The First Drive and The Day of Rest

My original plan was to get all the way to Prescott by tuesday night, 18 hours, straight through and damn the consequences.  But things happen, Cv boot seals break and people get so tired they start noding off on the interstate (Not something I recommend you try, ever). So my 18 hour, straight through slowly turned into a 4 hour, 9 hour and 5 hour split, with pit stops in Junction Texas and the frightening Travel Inn outside of Tucson Arizona.

But, after a nice little drive through southern Arizona, I finally made it to Prescott Valley and my grandparents house Thursday morning. Only 30 something hours past when I expected to get there. I really could go on about Prescott, theres a ton of awesome stuff to see here. Its absolutely gorgeous, and it had a high of 89 degree’s in July, which makes me love it. No pesky flying bugs and no humidity meant that I was actually able to sit outside and read without being driven insane.

So I’m staying here today and heading off tomorrow morning, fairly early. Its still a good 650 or so miles up to Fallon and my final destination (for now). Today I plan to to absolutely fucking nothing. Sit around, read some, sit on the porch and just enjoy the day. Should be fucking wonderful.

Just a taste of the beauty of Prescott Valley.

The Seal and The Henry

By this time today I was planning to be almost to El Paso and out of Texas. But in all my planning I seem to have forgotten that I occasionally turn out to be luck’s whipping boy. I pulled in for gas in Junction, Texas. Filled up for a decent price, made myself a sandwich out of the supplies in the cooler then prepared to take off. Put my foot on the gas pedal and the car paused about 4 seconds before jumping forward. Luckily I was on the phone with my friend when it happened, cause I would have had no fucking clue what to do. But she did, so I stop the car and check the transmission fluid as the directs, only taking 10 minutes to find the damn dipstick. Check the fluid and there is -no- fluid mark on it at all, which means I’m just about proper fucked. So I head back into the gas station and, as per the order of the day, they don’t have any.

Now I get to drive a mile down I-10 with a un-lubed transmission, praying the entire time that the bastard doesn’t overheat and seize up on me. By the grace of some god I make it to the gas station down the road, park it on in and buy two quarts of transmission fluid. Still being directed by the Pix, I pour a quart down into the transmission and wait a minute before checking the dipstick again. No fucking red fluid mark, nothing. I bend my fatass on down and look under the car, only to see a growing puddle of fluid that looks just about like a quart. Fuck me. So I’m now informed by the pix’s father that its probably my front seal, which means about 600 hundred bucks and at least 6 hours of work. Fuck me twice.

So now I get to play the phone game, and after asking the guys in the gas station I find out that there are two good mechanic shops in town, Henry’s and Rite-A-Way. I call them both, get told that the boss at rite isn’t there and therefore can’t give me an estimate. Not good ole Henry, Henry says he can get this bitch fixed for 350 bucks. Now we’re in business. So Henry comes on over to the gas station and hops out of his truck. He informs me that he’s got to go rescue a stranded family up north, but can swing back by in about an hour and tow me in. Now, I should explain here, he spends 3 minutes looking under the car and talking to me before he takes off. Not to worried, I can wait for a bit.

Now, I’m sitting in front on a bench and I see these guys hop out of a truck and start looking over my car. Me, being curious as to what the fuck they’re doing, head on over to them. Turns out their from Rite-a-way and are offering me a free tow to their shop and a free diagnosis. Right fucking on. Hell, even if they don’t give me a better price I’ll at least be able to tell Henry what exactly the problem is. So I call the cell phone number he gave me, no fucking answer, I call again and leave him a message telling him where I’m headed. They hook up the rope and we head off down the road and down to the shop. They spend about 10 minutes looking under her before telling me its the CV boot seal and then quoting me 240 bucks and 5 hours of work. Hell fucking yeah.

So I call up Henry, no answer. I call his cellphone 4 goddamn times and still nothing, so I leave him a message telling him thanks for the info and that I’m going with rite-a-way. So they start working on the ole bitch and I head across the road to the Legends Inn, 40 bucks and I have a room to rest in while I wait for my car to get fixed. Not to fucking shabby, eh?

The first call I get is from Raymond from rite-a-way, telling me my axle housing on the tranny is fucked and that’s what busted the seal. Fixing it would cost about 3 times what my car is worth. He does say that the seal will hold at least until I get to where I’m going, so its a doable temp fix. Little disappointing, but no biggy. The next call is from Henry, who will now be referred to as the corrupt douchebag.

See, Henry decides that his 3 minutes of consultation on the way to the other job counts as a service call, and he wants 45 bucks. I tell him to go fuck himself, he then informs me that if I don’t pay him, I won’t be leaving town. I tell him to gimme 5 minutes and I call Raymond and fill him in. He then informs me that I better pay Henry. I then find out that ole Henry has a habit of fucking people who get stranded along the highway. See, it turns out that ole Henry’s brother is the Sheriff of this little paradise known as Junction. So my choices are, pay the motherfucker, or get arrested for some made up charge.

So I pay the motherfucker.

Oh and the cherry on this shit-sundae of a day, Raymond calls me back and informs me that the seal he has is the wrong one and can’t get to right one until 8 am tomorrow. The only bright spot in all this is that the Legends motel has free-high speed wireless internet. Fuck everything else and thank whoever for the little stuff, eh?