Things start smoothly, jamming tunes that remind us of good times (everything from Wilco, to The Cobbs, to ECC and beyond. . . . FAR far beyond, as far beyond even as VNV Nation). The proud duo starts the morning off giving this trip a tittle of "The-Joel-Is-Quitting-Smoking-California-Tour". And guess what, all you non-believers, he DID quit. For three rest stops, he fought that damn urge like it was his job. On the fourth, though, we gave in to reality that a road trip where we are trying to push through as much as we little ones possibly can, might not be the BEST time to quit an addiction. Better luck next time Joel buddy.
So on we trudge, nicotine and caffeine fixes galore, straight into Jesus land. Where is Jesus land, you ask? Apparently it's the entire middle of the country. I've learned that people think Jesus lives in every big red barn around, or at least they sure do like to write his name in huge letters every empty surface possible. Not to mention the overwhelming and somewhat frightening over-sized crosses looming over the open farm land. And what's with all of these "catchy" phrases for forcing... SCARING jesus into people? My favorite I think is the one that's on every other billboard: "Got Jesus?" What happened to just plain old milk?
Let's talk about the completely unnesisarily loud (and very bad) country music they HAVE to play in every public bathroom around these parts. Very fitting though for the people that hang around the rest stops. Poor Joel was accompanied to the mens room by 4 very large, very intense cowboy/trucker/giants. He didn't really want to comment on the experience, so I can only imagine how traumatizing that must have been.
Our perfect weather suddenly takes a turn for "the Perfect Storm", as sun rays turn into sheets of rain dumping down on us and lightning throws it's angry fists all over the sky. I've never been more terrified in my life. Nor have I ever seen so much constant lightning like this. It is actually just spirals of lightning bolts going in complete horizontal circles around the entire sky. Most of the time you can't clearly even make out what the lightning is doing, because the rain is so dense. And pulling over for safety isn't really an option, because we can't see where the side of the road is. Probably safest to just keep driving, we agree. There are "TORNADO WARNING" signs everywhere and the Highway Patrol is urging people not to travel. By the way, are we at letter "J" yet for naming tornado's? Because it would be really convenient for this one to be named "Tornado Jesus".
After somehow managing to drive through the center of the storm, and traveling for a solid 16.5 hours, we are basically forced off of the streets, a bit reluctantly, by the lack of visibility, tornados surrounding us, and a nervous mother pleading with us to get off the roads. Tucked into our beds, the sleepy Mr. P and MK snuggle into our crunchy motel blankets and are lulled to bed by a constant blueish green lightning flicker and crashing thunder and rain outside. God... oops.. I mean, JESUS, save us.
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