ravenna_c_tan

Mirrored from the latest entry in Daron's Guitar Chronicles.

We had voted to drive straight through. (Nobody else had liked Texas much either, apparently.) We could always pull off at a motel in the night, we figured, if no one was up to driving. Carynne had mapped us a route that clipped through a corner of New Mexico, 969 miles to be exact from parking lot to parking lot. This was the expensive part of the trip, with lots of overhead and little income. In the planning stages of the tour we’d come close to deciding not to cross the Mississippi. But somehow we ended up going for it.

If the drive to Cleveland had felt long at almost six hours with two pit stops, imagine this: twenty hours. As I stood pissing in a rest area northwest of San Antonio, I calculated that would be ten pit stops at minimum. I felt like a dog, pissing every so often to mark my trail. Jeezus.

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