I’ve left the Bay Area headed southeast past god-forsaken Barstow, CA and through the Mojave Desert. I pass junked pink trailers, dilapidated windmills in a sea of dusty sagebrush and semi-trucks representing every denomination of big box store. I put on some uplifting Indian Techno Lounge music. Karsh Kale, Bombay Dub Orchestra and MIDIval Punditz send hypnotic notes across the desert. Toward the Arizona border I travel without a care in the world. Alongside, a train races through the buttes of the Piute Mountains like an Old West movie, but instead of paraffin, leather hides and grain, it hauls appliances and cosmetics to modern consumers.
Alien armies of wind power turbines stand watch over the barren hills of San Bernardino County and the temperature rises to triple digits. Suddenly the Astro Verde loses power and I’m forced to pull over to the shoulder of the highway, 41 hot miles west of Needles on the California side of the Colorado River. I groan at the familiar feel of a fuel pump gone bad. Being a veteran road tripper, the sense of panic comes and goes in a few short milliseconds. I feel another adventure coming on! Bryce, Dora, and their pup Hillary of Las Vegas pull over and chat about favorite road trips as I wait for AAA assistance. Robin, the Chinese-Mexican tow guy with a gorgeous ponytail has great Old Route 66 tips for me and directs me to the local Wagon Wheel diner. Ricky and Dave, my auto shop guys tell of past “traveling babes passing through that broke their lonely hearts.” Bailey, the overweight shop dog does a few tricks for me as I wait for the diagnosis. The cast of characters includes:
Big Dave - the gruff and portly shop owner who turns into a giggling, cooing little girl when addressing the love of his life, a most homely bull dog.
Cross-eyed Clyde - friendly and simple of mind, curious to hear of the world outside of Exit 142, Needles, CA, and always getting in the way of his cohorts.
No Teeth Martin - greasy ferret of a man with a wide toothless grin.
Shy Wrench Girl - skittish like a scared animal, won't look me in the eye, but nervously called me ma'am. Did all the work to my rig. Got a crooked smile out of her when I gave her a personal thank you for the nice wrenching.
“Broke Down in Needles” could be the name of a country song that ends well. At least the nearby “Juicy’s Bar” has tall, cold gin & tonics. A long and hot and expensive 24 hours later, I'm back on the highway, the Astro purring contentedly.
Next - Historic Route 66 and the Grand Canyon!