I need to stop relying on my friends to have a good time.
And I need new friends.
I have this app called SnapChat, where your friends can send you quick pictures of what they are up to. And this whole road trip I have been receiving pictures of my friends having a blast, while I am stuck in a small chair in a moving old van.
Only 32 more hours to go.
But they have not texted me at all this whole trip to see if I'm having a good time. So, like I said. This trip has made it pretty obvious that they really only care about themselves ... and not me. Conclusion: find new friends.
But of course, I'm not very good at that. But I am good at running away from my problems.
So California, here I come.
I'm going to tell a story about the first day of this road trip to the Grand Canyon. So sit back and enjoy the ride.
We left my grandpa's house at 3 in the afternoon on Sunday in the rain, glad to leave at that point, to be honest. We drove about 3 hours and then, lucky me, it was my turn to drive they white '94 GMC van. This van is one of those van's that when you see it coming down the road, you think, "Oh shit, how is that still running?" Yes, it's those kind of vans. The kind with a seat that lays down into a bed, and has a TV with a built in VCR in the back. Has a ladder on the back door. Why? No fucking idea. Not like you can sit on the bubbled roof. It's a real piece of work. So come 6 o'clock I take the wheel and I drive for about an hour in the middle of nowhere, a scene that looks like it is taken from the movie Children of the Corn, when I notice that I'm losing speed. I start to panic and wake up the family. After they startle awake, my grandpa tries to shift it in neutral while my dad is attempting to rev the engine, all the while I'm singing "Jesus Take the Wheel." I pull over the side, the van about to explode from the rumble strips on the road, and we sit there in silence for a good 2 and a half minutes - but it seemed like 20. We all stared at each other and finally my younger sister, Emily, says, "Uh, well now what?" and we all start to laugh. My grandpa pulls out his AAA card and calls for a tow truck. But of course, it's 7 at night on a Sunday, what repair shop would be open? After being put on hold for a good 45 minutes they tell us that they can get a tow truck to us in an hour and all they are able to do is tow us to a gas station. We sit in the old van for a half an hour, as each car passes the car shakes viciously, and I keep hearing children yell, "Take 'em to Malichi!" ... Joy. Finally the tow truck pulls up and we all pile out of the car and head up to the truck. Three small seats in his cab. One driver. Four family members. Another joy. We get to the gas station after an uncomfortable trip there, sitting on my 75 year old grandfather's lap. Fill the car up. And what do you know, it starts. The tow truck guy says it's probably a malfunctioning gas gauge. So off we go. About 10 hours later BOOM, it happens again while my sister is driving. So I am not even joking you, from the middle of Nebraska we coasted all the way to Denver, Colorado. COASTED. Every time you stepped on the brake, the car would shut off, so we would have to flip it to neutral, rev the engine and hope for the best. It was a great road trip. Lesson learned, never take a '94 van across the country.
We left my grandpa's house at 3 in the afternoon on Sunday in the rain, glad to leave at that point, to be honest. We drove about 3 hours and then, lucky me, it was my turn to drive they white '94 GMC van. This van is one of those van's that when you see it coming down the road, you think, "Oh shit, how is that still running?" Yes, it's those kind of vans. The kind with a seat that lays down into a bed, and has a TV with a built in VCR in the back. Has a ladder on the back door. Why? No fucking idea. Not like you can sit on the bubbled roof. It's a real piece of work. So come 6 o'clock I take the wheel and I drive for about an hour in the middle of nowhere, a scene that looks like it is taken from the movie Children of the Corn, when I notice that I'm losing speed. I start to panic and wake up the family. After they startle awake, my grandpa tries to shift it in neutral while my dad is attempting to rev the engine, all the while I'm singing "Jesus Take the Wheel." I pull over the side, the van about to explode from the rumble strips on the road, and we sit there in silence for a good 2 and a half minutes - but it seemed like 20. We all stared at each other and finally my younger sister, Emily, says, "Uh, well now what?" and we all start to laugh. My grandpa pulls out his AAA card and calls for a tow truck. But of course, it's 7 at night on a Sunday, what repair shop would be open? After being put on hold for a good 45 minutes they tell us that they can get a tow truck to us in an hour and all they are able to do is tow us to a gas station. We sit in the old van for a half an hour, as each car passes the car shakes viciously, and I keep hearing children yell, "Take 'em to Malichi!" ... Joy. Finally the tow truck pulls up and we all pile out of the car and head up to the truck. Three small seats in his cab. One driver. Four family members. Another joy. We get to the gas station after an uncomfortable trip there, sitting on my 75 year old grandfather's lap. Fill the car up. And what do you know, it starts. The tow truck guy says it's probably a malfunctioning gas gauge. So off we go. About 10 hours later BOOM, it happens again while my sister is driving. So I am not even joking you, from the middle of Nebraska we coasted all the way to Denver, Colorado. COASTED. Every time you stepped on the brake, the car would shut off, so we would have to flip it to neutral, rev the engine and hope for the best. It was a great road trip. Lesson learned, never take a '94 van across the country.
I miss Connor. And Loreena. And my mom.
32 more hours.
