An urgent dispatch from Commandant Matt...
Hot on our heels, the impending They approaches as we prepare for our departure. Sure to be sought for interviews, autographs, and baby-making, we are fleeing from this country and seeking refuge in Japan, land of the Rising Sun and home to a thousand odd technologies. Did you know that I heard from a guy who's doctor worked with a guard from Buckingham Palace who once saw the Japanese ambassador's aide who said that Japan has a system in place to take discarded hopes and dreams and build cities out of them? I hear they call it the Tokyo Construction Worker's Union.
Anyway, it is 2:10 AM, roughly 28 hours before we leave this country. Our bags go fairly unpacked, our nerves are not yet wracked, and we are not yet on a plane with Taylor's Unforgiving Bladder. Life is good, so let's get to the tomorrowtime.
--Matt, signing off of Radio Fuzzy.
Now from the voice of reason, Jess...
Well, I'm not entirely sure how I can follow THAT. -.-After saying our goodbyes to my family, we left for Knoxville... only for Old Bessy to decide she was having none of this power-steering, engine-belt-running, driving on a deadline sort of stuff. We pulled into, perhaps, the shadiest looking motel in south Knoxville, where we waited for Taylor and Kat to pick us up. I can't say it wasn't an interesting motel, as I saw Bill from Kill Bill, somebody's lost butler, and my first hooker.
After Bessy spent all day today at the repair shop, we finally get under way around 6 or 7ish. Right after we pull out of the gas station ( apparently no receipt does not, in fact, mean free coffee, even when such is posted ), Matt notices that his radio only works when he's in park. But it's fine. It's cool. We know a guy. I turn on my laptop, and blast some music through my horrendous laptop speakers. As we near the entrance to the interstate, Matt notices something else...... his power steering is gone.
Well, crap. This is how it all started yesterday.... So Matt calls his dad, and talks to his brother, who tells him to watch the temperature gauge. But wait! The temperature gauge hasn't worked in 7 years, says Matt. Oh well, such is life. We drive on. We are finally within 2 minutes of Matt's house, and his power-steering is back a bit. This is kinda nice, since the road to his house is a winding ledge on the edge of a nuclear dum---I mean, lake. As soon as we get off the highway, bang. The power-steering is gone and the car is wheezing like a large asthmatic child running from a bear, and we barely make it to the driveway of his house.
So we ate some BBQ, went to Walmart, and came back here to bring you this terribly boring blog of joy. Let's hope our luck changes.
--Jess
