Ah, back to Arizona, land of the ridiculous gas
station. We come from California, where gas
stations sell Cheetos, Junior Mints, and lottery
tickets, so, I must say it's surprising to see a 600
pound geode when you're topping off the tank. The
thing is, there's not a whole lot of civilization in
Arizona. The towns we've been in have been
excellent, but it's one of those states where the
scenery can be positively horror-movie. I'll watch
out for the shifty eyed gentlemen with chainsaws.
But, I get ahead of ourselves. Currently, we're still
in California, with a good five hours to go. I'd like
to a moment, too, to shudder at the 3.60 a gallon
we just paid to fill up our tank while Patrick
Stewart peed out some (hopefully) unnecessary
coolant. That was fun. In the most sad and
sarcastic way possible.
In fact, we're going to take her to a backwoods
mechanic now...speaking of horror-movies and price
-gouging. Cross your fingers for us.