Schizophrenic Lands (Day 1: Issaquah to Salt Lake)
Trip Start Apr 04, 2010
9Trip End Ongoing
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Where I stayed
The following morning we met Kirstin's parents and aunt for easter breakfast at iHOP (no bunny reference intended.) Then it was back to the house to pack the car and leave at 8am. 8am turned into 11:30am with a litany of incomplete chores and loose ends yet to be tied up.
Our honeymoon consists of a month long read trip in a car that is packed beyond recognition. Gone is the little zippy dodge Neon that is both comfortable and, in general, a pleasure to drive. In it's place is a little red bubble of mobile suffering. Our seats are completely upright and moved too far forward. Behind us, resting in comparable luxury, lies the last of our worldly possessions
The car is packed such that the spare motor oil, rain-x, and Armour all are all wedged into little cracks and crevices underneath the hood. The shoehorning of the remaining pieces of our lives into this, formerly enjoyable, ride requires that the single gallon of spare fuel be nestled beneath the passengers knees. After a thorough reassurance to Kirstin that this gas can would not leak, we left the house with the car heater on. Umm, not good, don't do that. We were experiencing our own petrochemical environmental disaster, soaking a bit of our carpet and requiring that the windows be down and a vacating of the leaking plastic bottle of potentially explosive fuel from our passenger space. Whoops..., couda, woulda, shoulda...
Anyways, the potentially deadly situation aside, we were on our way to Salt Lake City through some really confused territory. So far on our adventure we've passed through Dead mans pass, the town of Bliss, and Gooding county. We've driven past both Devil's Canyon and Pleasant Valley. It seems to me as though this area of the greater Northwest interior of the country is going through some kind of Geo-emotional schizophrenic confusion
After hours of mildly uncomfortable transport. Driving into and through Boise, Idaho brings to mind, what I imagine is like driving a Flintstones car - without the paddling feet/no floor thing.
The weight of our load reducing our suspension to that of any common log and that the interstate seems to have not been resurfaced in over a decade of heavy traffic and harsh winters our lower backs, butts and necks felt both very tight and very tender.
We've now found ourselves, whenever we vacate the car, not wanting to return.