Here is the latest installment about my move to the East Coast several years ago.  For those of you just joining us, this is the travel journal I kept while driving from Sausalito, California to Philadelphia, Pennsylvania.  I made the trip with my beloved dog, Ibo, who sadly left us three years ago.  For those of you wanting the previous installments, here they are:

Part 1          Part 2          Part 3          Part 4          Part 5          Part 6

Got up early on Monday, and we were right back at it by 7:50.  Denver was 2 hours away.  Through some more mountains (some actually had a little snow), and then into Denver.  The interesting part of the drive was now over.  And boy was it over.  Flat.  Flat.  Flat.

Nebraska was painful.  I was so bored that we stopped to take a nap at a rest stop.  One word: Bugs. I became spoiled living in Sausalito since there really are not any bugs.  But there are in Nebraska. Tons.  I woke up when one of said bugs flew into my ear. After making sure it never violated another human being again (take THAT) I see Ibo sniffing around the parking lot (which was not too far from the INTERSTATE!!!).  Yeah, I’m just about ready to be a PARENT.

Speaking of being a parent.  While I was taking Ibo for a walk, we ran into another dog.  The dog was rather mangy, and the owners were rather sketchy.  I was telling Ibo to leave them alone then heal and “hurry up” (our code word for ‘doing her business’); I took out her ball; I asked her if she was hungry.  Anything to get her away from that dog, and those people.  “She shouldn’t associate with that kind of dog,” I thought.  Yeah, I’m just about ready to be a PARENT.

Harry Potter on CD kept me going for the next SIX BILLION or so miles.  Don’t get me wrong, I love farm country.  I come from a family of farmers (more or less).  But couldn’t they throw in a mountain here and there? Or a building higher than 20 bales of hay? How about a gun shop just to spice things up a bit?  Anything?  Good thing it was getting dark.

I stopped somewhere for gas.  Remarkable for two reasons.  First, the place was called ‘Kum and Go’.Not joking (I could make some lewd comment about trying to attract the male driver, but I won’t).  The other thing was that it was absolutely SWARMING with some kind of BUG (by the way, I don’t like bugs very much at all, if that was not already abundantly clear).  It was unbelievable, Biblical, even.  Just getting out of the car to pump the gas, about 50 (I’m not exaggerating) landed on the front of my T-shirt.  Another dozen were in my hair.  I let Ibo out and she immediately started squinting and she looked up at me as if to say: “are you kidding me?”  I filled up and went inside to pay.  A woman was on a pay phone calling Ibo over to her.  Apparently, she thought Ibo was a stray and she was calling a friend to come pick her up.  Hang up the phone, Einstein, she is with me.  I went inside to find a female customer screaming at the poor gas station attendant (I call her a girl because she had braces and was 15, not because I am some sexist pig [I must mention here that I have just reread this paragraph, and given the name of the “establishment”, I find some of the verbs used quite amusing]).  The woman was upset due to all of the bugs.  She was livid.  “That is absolutely disgusting!!!  Why do you have all of those bugs?  Why are you just sitting behind the counter? Blah, Blah, Blah” The girl was dumbfounded.  She looked hopelessly out at the bugs and then back at the raving lunatic.  She almost looked like she was about to cry.  “I kind of like them,” I interjected.  “It reminds me of when I was a kid.”  The woman stopped, turned, and looked at me, her mouth open far enough that about 600 could have flown in if she had been outside.  She could not believe I was serious.  That was the break I needed.

I smiled, scooted by her, and plopped my credit card down to pay.  I gave a wink to the girl behind the counter.  She tried to suppress a smile.  As I left I gave the woman (who was clearly still frustrated and looking at me like I was the devil) a quick “Have a nice night”.  I walked outside and spread my arms out wide (like Julie Andrews in the Sound of Music).  Nice touch, I thought.  Got back into the car.  Another “you moron” moment.  I was covered in bugs.  I drove out of sight, pulled over, jumped out of the car.  I had bugs in my mouth, hair, eyes, and all over my clothing.  So I spit, picked, and swiped.  But I felt good, I kind of liked the bugs, and somehow it did remind me of being a kid again.

I lied.  I hate bugs.  Hate them.