E-Z as Can Be

Anyway, we made it to New York. Lots of people were wondering because it's been a while since my last post. Some of Tiffany's friends even texted, emailed and called to ask if we made it out of Impy's driveway, which is nice because it means they were reading the blog (but obviously not too closely or they'd have realized we never pulled into the driveway in the first place).

So we made it. And as soon as we got the chance, we got back in the car and drove to see Tiffany's family in New England. After years of living plane-rides away from our families, we were giddy at the idea that we were connected to certain members by the same highway (I even texted my brother in Florida that I could see him in just under 1,300 miles). But it wasn't enough that we could leave work on a Friday night and be having a beer and Dr Pepper with Tiffany's dad before bedtime. We wanted to be there faster, which we realized as soon as we got onto the West Side Highway in Manhattan and almost immediately had to come to a stop in the Cash Only lane while E-ZPass drivers cruised by us on the way to their own families.

"Sh*t," we said, looking at each other.

But it turns out you can buy E-Z passes in the cash lane in New York, so, guess what, we bought one.

"How does this work?" I asked the woman.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, when can we use it?"

"Right now," she said.

"Oh good!" I cried, stuffing my dollar bills back into my wallet.

The woman stared at me.

"Not right this minute," she said. "You're in a Cash Only lane."

Road Trip: Blogged (Sunday)

Tiffany and I have been lucky on our road trip because we've gotten to see a lot of our friends and family who are scattered across the country. Besides having Tiffany's dad Gary along for the first half of the ride, we saw Tiffany's sister Melody in Denver and my mom and grandmother and lots of friends in Kansas City. Last night, we drove right by my grandmother's best friend in Dayton, Ohio.

When I say we drove right by her, that's exactly what I mean. Oh, sure, eventually we made a U-turn, pulled in front of her house and stayed the night, but when we first saw Impy, she was standing in her door waving us into her driveway while we kept right on going, waving frantically back at her.

"Should I pull into her driveway?" I asked Tiffany.

"Absolutely not! Do not pull this trailer into her driveway!"

"Call her and tell her we're turning around!" I shrieked, as Impy looked after us in confusion.

After I made a wide turn at the next four-way stop, we lurched to a halt just off Impy's curb.

"Girls, I cleared the driveway so you could pull right in," she said, coming to give us a hug.

"Thank you so much, Impy," I said, giving her a squeeze, "but we don't know how to reverse."

Road Trip: Blogged (Yesterday)

Yesterday was the first day of the road trip that Tiffany and I didn't have her dad with us, which probably explains why we almost ran out of gas in the middle of Missouri.

With Gary, we filled up every time our gas gauge hit the quarter-tank mark, but Tiffany and I thought we'd go right to E before we stopped that morning. We waved off a visible-from-the-highway station confidently, only to be leaning forward in our seats a few miles later as we passed... absolutely nothing.

"It's fine," I said. "We have 30 miles once the light comes on."

Tiffany was quiet.

"Right?" I asked, the pitch of my voice creeping up. "Or is that some myth I've acquired in my many years of hardly-ever-driving?"

We shouted when we saw a Sunoco off in the distance only to discover that the last gas pumped there may have been shortly after Lewis and Clark passed by.

After several exits that said "No Gas," there was, finally, a very ambiguous blue "Gas" sign that listed no gas stations.

"What does that mean?" I shrieked. "There must be no gas here!"

"Or maybe they just haven't gotten around to putting up the sign," Tiffany countered.

"I don't know..." I hesitated. "I mean... if there was a station, don't you think they'd..."

I'm always indecisive at precisely the moment a decision is crucial.

"I'm going," Tiffany said swerving toward the exit ramp.

Anyway, there was a gas station. Tiffany and I sighed in relief and were halfway to the bathroom before we realized Gary wasn't around to man the pump.

Road Trip: Blogged (Day...???)

Is there anything more sacred than the food that sustains an auto-bound American? I don't think so. 

Tiffany and I planned a combo of junk and healthy food for our trip, but we ran out of time to prepare or purchase the healthy stuff. In fact, we wouldn't have had time to buy the junk food either (see this previousRoad Trip post about our botched return flight from vacation), but for a moment of hyperopic genius (see same previous post).

The airline that left us stranded last week in Mexico with a leaky engine put us up at no charge in an all-inclusive hotel, so Tiffany and I ate breakfast there Friday morning before the rescheduled flight. But when we got to the airport, the airline also gave us each $10 vouchers to use at one of the restaurants. We weren't hungry and didn't need a snack for the flight (we'd managed to squirrel away two peanut butter and jelly sandwiches at the hotel despite signs throughout the buffet to "Please Do Not Take Food Off the Premises."). We looked at each other dejectedly considering the loss of someone else's money. And then...

"Babe," I said, nudging her in the ribs. "Do you think we have to use these at a restaurant?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, can we use them at the little stores that sell books and snacks!"

"You want snacks for the flight? We have our PBs!"

I rolled my eyes.

"No, I want snacks for our road trip! They've got tons of junk food in there!"

Tiffany burst out laughing.

"Ohhhhhh... you want to go shopping in the airport!"

She paused. I could see the wheels in her brain turning as she considered how much time we had between our arrival in SF and our friends' wedding.

"Okay, let's go!"

Tiffany's dad, a master of efficiency (see this previousRoad Trip blog post), was impressed.

  

Gary likes to shop locally too. At our first stop in Nevada, he came back from the gas station announcing he'd decided to try a "local snack." I was worried. I'd heard that on a road trip with Tiffany's sister Melody, Gary purchased "Buffalo Chips." Made to look like bison poop, they actually were a very interesting combination of potato chips and chocolate (Gary mailed us some for Christmas).

In Nevada, Gary held up a bag of Sabritones, a chile and lime "puffed wheat" snack. They were "hecho in Mexico." Also, they were disgusting.

Road Trip: Blogged (Day 3)

It's a little strange having someone in our backseat on this trip across the country--or sitting in it ourselves, for that matter. For most of our six years in Los Angeles and San Francisco, Tiffany and I either walked or scoot-scooted where we needed to go. When we did drive, it was usually just the two of us with an empty backseat. Actually, until a few months ago, we accepted as fact--based on our limited experience in the rear of our vehicle--that we had the World's Most Uncomfortable Backseat.

It turns out we just didn't know the seats had straps that allowed their backs to be adjusted from their 90 degree angle.

Miserably ignorant, we nodded and grimaced in solidarity with friends and family members we lovingly placed in the locked and upright position for trips all across California.

"We know," we said solemnly each time. "We're sorry."

Lower back and neck pain was the price guests paid for our company.

Anyway, luckily for Tiffany's dad Gary (and me and Tiffany), on one of my mom's recent visits I yanked on a strap to discover--seven years after we bought the car--that the seats actually recline fully. Unfortunately, my mom was sitting in the seat when I made my discovery and suffered a mild case of whiplash in the process. Her pain, however, paved the way for our cross-country comfort.

Thanks, Mom.

Road Trip: Blogged (Day 2.5)

A conversation with Tiffany in a truck stop bathroom earlier today:

Me (from one stall): Tiffany, have you ever had Rocky Mountain Oysters?

Tiffany (from the stall next to mine): What?

Me: Rocky Mountain Oysters... they're on the menu here. I've never had them, but I've heard of them.

Tiffany: What are you talking about? What are Mountain Oysters? That doesn't even make sense.

Me: I think they're balls!

Tiffany (washing hands): What?

Me (washing hands, then struggling to make the automatic paper towel dispenser recognize my presence): Rocky Mountain Oysters! They're balls. Cow balls or moose balls... some kind of balls.

Tiffany (handing me a paper towel): What do you mean balls?

Me: Just balls! Cooked balls!

Tiffany: I have no idea what you're talking about.

Me (sighing): Ask your dad.

Tiffany (outside the bathroom): Dad, have you ever heard of Rocky Balls?

Road Trip: Blogged (Day Two)

After two days on the road with Tiffany's dad, I know one thing for sure: I like his style. Of course, I've known for seven years that I like Gary's style--well before I consented to his company on our cross-country road trip. But now I like it even more. He's all about maximum efficiency.

When we stop for gas, Gary comes back from the station with his fists full of napkins for "just in case." Never mind the fact that I packed just-in-case napkins (and toilet paper, tissues and paper towels). I say, the more the merrier. Gary and I could make full sets of bedding with our paper products. Who knows... we just might need to some day. It goes without saying we'd make one for Tiffany as well.

Gary also cleans our windshield at every stop even if we've killed no bugs in the brief span of time between fill-ups. This is especially helpful. Although we have plenty of windshield-wiper fluid, our windshield wipers are absolutely useless because we haven't turned them on in six years (I blame the state of California).

At one of our stops this morning, Gary finished with the windshield and then paced back a few yards from the front of the car.

"Hmmm," he said to himself. "I guess I don't need to do the headlights."

I thought he was joking, so I laughed. When he didn't laugh, I immediately agreed the headlights did not need to be scrubbed.

Anyway, Gary is so efficient that he volunteered to wake up at 3 a.m. today to take the first shift driving.

"I'm still on East Coast time, girls," he said boldly.

I only had one request. I asked him if he'd carry me to the car in my pajamas and place me on a pallet on the floorboards the way my parents used to do when I was little.

I guess he thought I was joking because he laughed, and I had to walk to the car a few hours later.