The First Third, The Least Words

Let's just recap in multimedia how this all got started....



January 2nd, the Old Timer's Game at Fenway Park.

And my ride....Longshot



Of course, I had to move out...



And I threw a bunch of shit out like this former companion...



And I packed up a Budget truck full of MOST of my shit to store in balmy Greenwood Lake.







When I got home, it was time to scrap a lot of belongings to make room for the influx of stuff I had accumulated, which turned out to be a hilarious and humiliating trip down memory lane. Join me as I wear things like THIS!




FOR THE LAST TIME. BARF. AND THIS!!!



GAG.



BLOMIT.

I used to think this shit was cool. I used to wear it to a Saturday morning bowling league, which I also thought was cool, and was, in fact, awesome. I wanted to wake up early for this waaay more than school. I'd wear one of these shirts with a pair of Jnco jeans that had a dead squirrel on them. They suffered a demoralizing fate that I'll not mention here. OK, it involved the ex girlfriend and poop. Oh boy a great joke is in there somewhere. Look at this fuckin peice of clothing. It has armpit vents for excessive sweaters. Speaking of excessive sweaters, I had like four or five sweaters that wore like garbage bags on me. Maybe if I wore sweaters that were meant for offensive linemen, I'd look less fat.



Oh, yeah look at that little silver mesh area. Air out them pits, Dan.


When I finally got everything organized and packed, I got to stop in NYC to get lunch with Mr. Bryan Plust. We both seemed to have pretty ridiculously cool shit going on for us. I want to travel up to Vermont next year and help him build shit on his property and hopefully learn some skills. the more I come to know individuals who becomes pedicabbers, I see more that they are fucking brilliant people, some kind of thirsty, burning personalities.




And then I went to New Jersey.



$19.99??? That's WAAAY too expensive for New Jersey.



That's a little better.

Hopefully, this will be the last time Longshot is ever in New Jersey. I, on the other hand, will undoubtedly find myself in Montclair or Teaneck or Hoboken, or fucking Paramus for some reason. Shit, I fly into Newark. FML. See what I'm sayin' here?



This is what my backseat will look like for 80% of the trip.



This is the mini hoopty on my dash. Littleshot moves her way across the dash in proportion to how far I've gone on my trip. (Distances are approximated) Thanks to Paul Dixon for this gift at the end of "Beauty Queen of Leenane" Who knew I'd actually be driving something just like it?!

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I just found this picture to be somewhat ironic, considering it is in the section of the American History Museum about Jews, and my current vocation.



Just checking in here to see if my head is actually throbbing.



The image quality here is about right for how lucid I was in Adams Morgan, Washington D.C.



A Danny and a beer is a great combination...



This is a great get at a bar in DC-yeah, the girl is what I was referring to...not the can of Steel Reserve...sure, that's the ticket.



Didn't expect to see Kyle's bike down here!



Kirsten's cat was precariously perched on the shower curtain rod. It struggled not to fall for several minutes. Images of that poster "Shit!" came to mind. Asheville, NC.



Bamboo outside the Biltmore Mansion in Asheville. A really impressive driveway. It is the largest house in the US. They charge admission to go look at it, so I just took a picture of the drive up. What am I, rich?



Littleshot leaving Asheville.



Merica!



Merica!



MERICA!!!!



Sigh...Merica...



sigh....merca.




These are some confused and lost looking lights at The Rail Pub in Savannah. Really busy for a Wednesday, and high production values...for a Wednesday...? Again, I'm a dork, go back and look at the shirts I used to wear. Adjust your volume lower now.



Enjoy my ride through Forsyth Park in Savannah. Sorry about the bumpy path. God, who is operating that camera?



This is frustrating, amiright pedicabbers?



That guy was mad chill. We had a long pedicab chat.

It was very welcoming to initally arrive and repeatedly return home to this sign,



..and then it is followed by this...




It wasn't easy to get a shot of this considering it is basically on I-195. So this video explains how it happened.



That cop car is empty, been sittin' there for weeks!

Mike and I did this aforementioned ride to Key Biscayne. Here he is as he motors over the giant bridge.

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Near fancy, fancy Lincoln Road, where I fancily lived near.



Toilet plants at "Le Tub", a great burger joint. Makes sense, yeah?



Even the fake people have fake tits. I saw so many fake sets that it caused me to very frequently ask myself, "Are they real?"



The appropriate answer is, "Who cares?"

Paging Mr. Shaw...Mr Rick Shaw. Your transportation has arrived. By the way, I had to go 2.8 miles to get to this point. And of course I had to return the contraption. You can do crazy shit with that thing when people are in the back since the center of gravity changes so drastically. It's actually easier to do with people in the back, except for uphill.



Ken has a hard time making friends at away games.



Also, this happened.... Yes, that is Ken's voice.



The Littleshot!



A la The Ducks in the Public Gardens. I still love Boston.



Miami Beach looking North.



Port of Miami.



Look at this huge boat!

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Enjoy this bike ride down on the south of South Beach. The Art Deco style is pretty sweet.



Artistic shot...



Discovering total Wine and Spirits' wall of singles! Pick and mix a six pack! Baaaah!



This tree has a lot of balls...Just observing and glad to be in a more tropical climate.



"The Head Set"


Irish Dean after his bar fight. His eye got worse. Badasspedicabber, and mocked my car for making it down here because his mechanic said his Jeep would not.



Enjoy "America's Backyard." What a shit show. Adjust volume now.



Mr D. says, "I feel bad for the dope who gets a haircut that stops him from communicating with all women."



In the Arts center of Miami Beach where the floor was tiled up by one artist and the corners decorated in various ways, such as this with chess pieces.



What is this, fuedalism?



Upon asking for parmesan cheese to cover up the taste of this mediocre slice, I was referred to this sign, and I realized that grammar was more important to me than parmesan cheese.



Osama Bin Laden's face in the urinal pad. It preached something about stopping terrorism, but it was kind of obscured by all that urine that came out of my penis. Frankly, I'd rather pee on a bee, it helps me enjoy the experience a little more. There are enough men around when I'm pulling my cock out at a urinal, so a man's face does not need to be what I aim at.




So there was a solid photo entry of the last month and change. It was outrageously fun and I don't see things slowing down any time soon. Update about the Superbowl and leaving Miami in the next few days.

Things You Can Get For $35

Days 9-13, Travel Day 5

I had finished my last posting in "Gallery Espresso", a hipster coffee house where all the Savannah College of Art and Design (SCAD) kids hang out. Apparently weird middle aged German ladies hang out there too. She interjected in a conversation I was having with two girls who I had lent my laptop power cord to, and proceeded to talk at me for a while under the guise of being interested about my trip. I politely listened and she mentioned she ran a bed and breakfast and told me her life story and asked where I was staying. At this point I had checked out of the Best Western, not knowing if I'd stay another night in Savannah at all, but she wanted so badly to beat the bigger competition that she offered me a room for $35. I was her first customer in her Savannah B&B. Ever. It was great because she gave me a key and didn't care when I got in (sometime after 3 am), she didn't care when I woke up (sometime after noon) and it was next to gorgeous Forsyth Park, and the whole setup in there was pretty impressive, AND she made me breakfast, but it was weird because she demanded I sign her guest book, sat there asking me questions about computers, and filling me in on the finer points of the life story she had initially revealed to me in the cafe. I think talking for her is an involuntary function.

I decided to try to try new places in the evening after figuring out my accommodations, and on the recommendation of Sean Bailey, tried out The Mellow Mushroom. Great pizza, excellent beer selection, and cool clientele. After exiting and handing off my leftover slice to some homeless dude, and since I had no other good ideas, I went back to Hang Fire, where I just missed trivia, but karaoke was just about to begin. That dude Wes was there again and was once again very welcoming, introducing me to his friends around the bar as his buddy. Later on I stated talking to some girl who self reportedly always goes to the bar solo because she tends to make passive aggressive friends. OoooKay. Maybe it was a passive aggressive way to tell me she'd like or not like to be friends. Then she starts talking about Jesus, and I guess this had to happen to me sometime. Then she starts talking about her child. Then she tells me she's 23, smoking cigarettes this entire time. Welcome to the South. Still getting kind of culture shocked the whole way, it's been a lot to absorb, so much is just slightly different. I'm well lubricated enough to try to invite her to the next bar I want to hit, entitled "Pinkie Master", which was where Jimmy Carter supposedly announced his presidential campaign. She declines, stating she doesn't like to leave Hang Fire, it's her favorite bar. So I biked over there and chilled with a few people there and watched this big fat dude just utterly whip this poor girl around in what she was enjoying as a dance. I thought to myself, "Now that is a southern gentleman who knows how to dance!" Next thing you know, he's hitting on me, and saying in his drawl, "Look at you. Your orange shoes. The orange on your pants there, the orange stripes on your jacket there. Don't you just match well," then puckered his lips at me. It was an action he would not stop using in conversation with me. I had to warn him, but that only made him to it more. He then introduced me to his friends, which I think included everyone in the bar, and once again by being tolerant opened the doors to not just one, but many new friends.

Leaving bars smelling like smoke is something I'm really not enjoying. Since I'm often on the move, its not always convenient or easy to get a whole change of clothes on very often, and so when I wake up the following morning and have to wear cigarette smoke to start my day, I gag a little. Also, my voice is taking on the smoke and I can hit every note (accurately) in Johnny Cash's original recording of "I Walk The Line" Yes, there is that much smoke in the places I'm going.

The next day when I finally made my escape from the B&B, I took a little ride through Forsyth Park, filmed a little and went to get coffee (that German coffee she made was shite) and get on the road to Miami, where my next crash was. It was at this point I ran into a pedicab driver-the weather had finally gotten better, so dudes were out trying to make money. This guy Michael, from the UK or Australia (it really just sounded southern to me until he mentioned it) who just began working with Savannah Pedicab. He wanted to talk and talk about pedicabbing, so I made the decision to go get coffee with him and realized that there is a backup plan in case Fort Lauderdale didn't work out. We were joined by a new driver named David, who was very Alex Meek hipster-ish, and had no idea what he was doing on a trike. They gave me the pedicab escort back to my car, I showed Michael the Boston pedicab shirt, and took off for Miami.

Longshot did fine on the drive, but I was starting to get worried. While starting up she sputters a little. I put some good gas in just to make her get a few extra miles an hour up on one of the longest drives of the trip. She needs an oil change in southern FL. Went to get that done today and they told me I was leaking oil badly, and that they couldn't do the oil change. The car was parked for over an hour and I didn't see a single drop. Now I'm wondering if they were trying to scam me. Going for a second opinion tomorrow.

I arrived at about midnight, and the first order of business seemed to be giving me the basic history in the surrounding areas, showing me around. Mike, who I am staying with at the moment, was the greatest tour guide of the trip so far, going into detail about Miami and Lincoln Road, the Fanieul Hall of Miami Beach. Some great views and pictures, and so many of the buildings are left over from the 30's 40's and 50's Art Deco period that it feels kind of like I'm back in time, except it is really really sexy, and every girl is wearing hot pants. On the walk, he also explained the homeless situation in Miami, and one homeless guy sleeping in a closed shop doorway had his dick clearly showing, tucked out through the back of his legs. Yeah, he was cut, that's how clearly it was showing. It was a penis surprise. Bienvenidos a Miami.

We finally ended up at the Abbey, a place where when we entered, two girls were making out; they broke four glasses in the course of the time we spent there. We began to indulge in magnificent beers, splitting a $35 bottle of delicious Brooklyn Black Ops stout, a collaborative effort between the Brooklyn Brewery and Schniederweiss. I said to Mike, "We'll get a bottle before I leave for New Orleans," but the bartender pressured us into the purchase stating there were only two left. Man, it was soooo goooood, but about a third through my first glass I very carefully gesticulated that very glass right over. The bartender, Mike, and I were all so disappointed that it quickly transformed into a small funeral. Frank offered to replace in my glass what he had sopped up with his rag, but I respectfully declined. Fortunately there was some left and I did enjoy the beer even more since I had suffered a loss.

Miami is weirding me out, but it's 70+ degrees and I'm not about to start questioning it so early. Friends I have down here are asking me if I hate it yet. I reiterate, too often that I'm coming from Boston, hate is in my nature, fuckin Yankees. Either way, I'm completely satisfied with my decision to leave, I feel more positive and optimistic and the new experiences are kind of blowing my mind.

Two days ago, Mike and I went on a 30 mile-ish bike ride all around Miami and up to Key Biscayne, where there was a monster hill on the bridge to Key Biscayne that I handily dispatched, in anticipation of the impending pulling of tourists in Ft. Lauderdale. Early Sunday morning, a biker was struck and killed by a drunk driver on this very bridge. Biking is dangerous here, driver give cyclists very little respect. Yet it remains convenient, and I have developed a potent sense of caution since I involuntarily changed the layout of my face.

Upon arrival in Ft. Lauderdale yesterday, I had realized that they have been holding a job/bike for me this whole time. Awesome. I was given the training/tour and it seems difficult to run game, but fun. I'm anticipating a cash cow.

Spent the day looking for efficiencies to reside in for a month. A couple of dumps seemed ok for twenty to thirty days, I guess. And just worried a little about the behavior of my car. Besides that, my biggest problem is getting hit in the face by palm tree leaves. Jealous? This coming week, I think I'll take out an actual rickshaw, just to see what it's like.

Statistics:
488 miles from Savannah to Miami
78 degrees as today's high temp
69 degrees at 11:45 pm @ time of post
3 hours I got to spend out at a bar after arriving at midnight on Thursday.
5 blocks from Mike's to the beach
8 highway billboard signs that were related to Jesus Christ, forcing me to winder if their money could be better spent, on say, HELPING PEOPLE.
2 hours is the time it took to be "trained" in Ft. Lauderdale by their road manager. Exasperating.
1 bagel.

Beers from....

Day 9

#57 Yeungling 12 oz Draft @Mad Hatter ($3 dozen oysters!)
#58 Yeungling 12 oz Draft
#59 Yeungling 12 oz Draft
#60 Bogart Pale Ale @Mellow Mushroom
#61 Terrapin Rye Pale Ale
#62 Brooklyn Lager
#63 Victory Prima Pils @Live Wire Club (apparently just missed RJD2 the previous night)
#64 Bud Bottle @Seed Eco Lounge
#65 PBR @Hang Fire
#66 PBR
#67 PBR
#68 PBR @Pinkie Master
#69 PBR -----All these written down is gross in some way..kinda like a post pedicab shift.

Day 10 -Mike in Miami

#70 Presidente bottle @Mike's apt
#71 Presidente
#72 Abbey Immaculate IPE @The Abbey
#73 Chouffe Houblon Doubel IPA Tripel
#74 Brooklyn Black Ops
#75 Brooklyn Hoppen Weiss
#76 Presidente

Day 11 -Mike, Lauren

#77 Negro Modelo @Salsa Fresca
#78 Wittekerke @Euro Cafe
#79 St Bernardus Abbey Style Ale @Brew Cafe
#80 Free rum and coke @Fatcat
#81 Northern Lights IPA

Day 12 -Mallory

#82 Sierra Nevada draft @Green Street Cafe
#83 Presidente bottle

Day 13-Lauren, Mike, Colleen

#84 Bud can @Le Tub
#85 Great Divide Double IPA @Zeke's
#86 Samuel Adams Noble Pils @ Mike's apt
#87 Brooklyn Hoppen Weiss
*night incomplete*

Your Innards Never Lie

huhuhuh...nards.

Day 9, Travel day 4

The flexibility of my itinerary is proving to be beneficial to experience. I got a much better sense of the size and scope of Asheville by getting lost in the car trying to go see Fantastic Mr. Fox. I was twenty minutes late and so I thought I'd just keep driving around. Beyond the small downtown area, it's not very impressive, but the people ooze friendliness, in that good kind of oozing way. People offer seats, help carrying that, and are genuinely concerned if you stumble. They are also too polite to bluntly exit a conversation. They'd rather just move and hope you don't notice. People are really cool though, it's very hippie-ish. Kinda like Allston with less terrible tattoos, stopped being dicks, and drink are cheeap. It's nothing like Allston. Except that one place I went Broadway's. Because of their weird alcohol laws, I had to be signed in as a guest of this girl Beth who I made friends with at some new beer brewery bar downtown. She said we should go over there, so I did, but they only let you in if you have a membership (which costs $5 for your lifetime membership) or pay the $3 cover....unless you are a guest. Smoke filled bar with $1.50 PBRs, and they weren't even the cheapest thing in the bar. See later list.

Going off on this trip like this...I realized I'm technically homeless. Ha!

Descending from the Blue Mountains was really beautiful. I was going too fast to take a picture, not a safe thing to do when tere are runaway truck ramps every few miles. If there are runaway truck ramps, there must be runaway trucks. I left Asheville, and had to decide on the drive whether I was going to Charleston or Savannah, . I decided to try and take Charleston in real quick, grab a new battery for my laptop, have a quick bite, and get to Savannah to make a bar scene and get just a little closer to manageable driving distance to Ft. Lauderdale. Charleston seems pretty great. I ran into a pedicabber hanging out outside the Apple store. I wanted to talk to him soo badly, find out what the deal was-His buddy was standing there and said there was a job opening, he just got fired. Of course if some guy like me wanted to talk to me in Boston while I was trying to get rides, I'd probably tell him to go fuck himself, I'm trying to get rides here, not talk about them and ride away. And I'd get really confused because I was trying to talk to myself about rides and getting into an altercation about it. If Ft. Lauderdale doesn't work out, I could totally see myself working in Charleston for a while.

A lot of my driving has happened at night. I feel like I'm missing out on some of the scenery, but I suppose it is more about experiencing the cities. In South Carolina...and probably here in Georgia too, you can be heavily fined and thrown in jail for littering or speeding. Last night on my way from Charleston to Savannah, I saw a car with NJ plates pulled over. Cops down here love bustin Yanks. I saw the trooper walking to the car with a ticket in hand, and something inside of me said I should pull off the road and get a soda, use the restroom. I just didnt want him catching up to me, seeing my plates and arbitrarily pulling me over. After mounting 95 again, I saw him tucked in, nestled into a highway nook waiting for speeders. Not me, not in this car, tricky, tricky. Keeping it 5mph under the limit, just in case, anticipating all the speed traps.

Savannah is charming! The bartender at this dive I discovered resembles Robbie Reckless if he grew his hair out and widened his goatee towards his jawbones a little, and did maybe just a little more heroin. This guy chatted me up and even recommended me to other bars, quite polite.

Quoth Wes, the bartender, "Your innards will tell you, they never lie," and "If there's an umbrella in my drink, it better be raining."

My two favorite texts recently have been "Locked out! Have Bacon!" And, "Oh my god, I am not the master of this key, please let me in..."

Day 7 Kirsten and friends, and Beth, who was also alone in the Lexington Avenue Brewery to check it out in its first week

#40 Lexington Ave Brewery (LAB) IPA @LAB
#41 LAB American Pale Ale
#42 shot of Grand Marnier (Thanks Beth!)
#43 Lexington Ave Marzner
#44 LAB IPA
#45 LAB Pilsner
#46 Miller high life bottle @Broadway's
#47 Grand Marnier shot (Thanks Beth!)
#48 Miller Lite bottle (Thanks Beth!) This is where she drove home..yeah, I know..faaaahck. And she got home safe. (applause)
#49 Lower Lexington Delight

Day 8 Charleston, Savannah, alone

#50 Corona for $1.50 @Jim&Nick's BBQ
#51 Coast Hop Art @Gene's Haufbrau (Charlseton local IPA, fan-f'n-tastic!)
#52 24 oz PBR @Hang Fire
#53 Sweetwater 420 Pale Ale
#54 24 oz PBR
#55 PBR pitcher@The Rail Pub
#56 24 oz PBR @Hang Fire

Statistics

417 miles, 6+ hours of driving time.
$26 fill outside of Charleston
60-40 women to men ratio in Asheville
1st time I've ever found Yelp! to be actually useful.
$20 saved by booking hotel over Hotwire
5 minutes between booking hotel and arriving to hotel.
60% is the percentage of footage I saw from the movie "The Watchmen"
2 beers I took to go, and transferred between bars with them-legal here.
55 degrees is the high today

Chillin here one more night here, just got my bike reinflated...staying in Miami tomorrow.

The Passenger

Day 6, Travel Day 3

Since my last post I decided that two nights in DC was clearly what needed to happen. I'm learning to more fully embrace my intuition, which I think I've decided to call conservative impulsiveness. And that is not what it is now that I think about the results it yielded.

I was warmly welcomed with a handle of Jim Beam, which gave me my failsafe liquor before beer starting line for the evening. Landing the blog entry in an escalated state, I was given assurances that everyone was going to be awake when I got back from Adams Morgan. It was still fuckin fuckin fuckin cold so I ran uphill from Dupont Circle to Adams Morgan where I met Danny at Dans Cafe. It sounded like a place we belong.

This place is a shithole. I arrived, and as seems to be the case whenever I enter a room, a vast majority of the women in the place cleared out. The disappointment was mollified by the fact that Danny was standing there with a highball glass full of rum, a bucket of ice, and a coke on the table, in what seems to be the bar policy of "make your own damned drink." The next thing we ordered was a ketchup bottle full of whiskey ginger, something I enjoyed because it made me think for a second that I might want to douse someone in the eye or something with a squirt of whiskey ginger, then reconsidered and pissed it into my glass.

Two blond girls stuck out there and seemed unapproachable by any of the merchants there at that sausage festival. Danny began to describe to me a tactic of going up to give a girl a quarter, to which they normally react with nervous laughter, a confused thanks, and probably a generally put off attitude. Implementation of this strategy takes balls, but I went up to them and got shot down for free. Maybe it was the horrific scars on my face (probably not, too dark in there) but they didn't even buy my "just traveling through" line. I think it's a good line. It usually doesn't result in nervous laughter, or confused thanks', but only a generally put off attitude. Going for an edge here, yeah?

Change of venue to Toledo Cafe, chill, kitchy, southwesternish, peak organic ipa bottles, three. Danny gets recognized and we sit down with these kids and burn our time out 'til what was a surprising three am last call, not two. Cab back to Tacoma Park Metro, and everyone was in fact still up, but about to be down. Great timing.

Strugglin to make it happen the next day. It took 4 hours to get out of the house and do something worthwhile. In attempting to catch a Metro train, Nina (who lives with Teddy) and I watched the timer tell us there was one minute until the
Metro arrived as I struggled to find my Metro card. Where is it? Not this pocket, not this pocket. Think back, boy, where would you have drunkenly put it last night?! the train disappears from the information screen. It's here! No! How could that minute have possibly passed?! Where is the fucking card, dude? Man, we missed it. All was lost. And then, found! Enter, run, stairs, doors closing, score! Most dramatic train catching I've ever had, and it was all to make it to the Museum of American History, yawn. But actually it was totally worth it. We only had about two hours there since it was closing, but that was about all we could take before we needed rebound beers. We walked up from the museum to Chinatown and saw Danny rolling by, scored a quick ride to RFD, and scored Danny another ride in the exact spot we were dropped off.

"We were wondering how much this is," said perhaps slightly inebriated girl interested in going a block or so with her friend.
"For you," Danny said, evaluating his fair and likely customers, "a quarter." Presumably he would give it to some other girl later.

The reeeal joint was this place "The Passenger" on 7th by Massachusetts Ave. It caters a bit to hip-chic sort of kids, but when we rolled in on saturday at around 8 pm to an emptyish classy establishment, we didn't realize we were first on the wave, because that place filled up. With classy chicks no less. The best part was that up front there was the bar, some tables for 4 or 8, and towards the back there was a nook. A nook, I say! It could fit 8 comfortably at the two tables, 10 or 12 if you were ambitious enough to want privacy for 10 or 12, but it was cozy and made the priciness of the beers more worth it. And as a party of four, it afforded conversational opportunities with the passers-through. A few rounds later, we all split for parties, hotels, homes.

Dragged ass so hard the next day that I didn't get on the road until three hours after I wanted to. It turned out to be crucial in a hand of God sort of way, and my drive ended up slightly better for it, though I had anticipated company-plans change, flexibility is key. Nice 7 hours drive, listened to football all the way down, lefty on the wheel controlling Longshot, righty on the radio dials, adjusting frequency and volume depending on where I was and which local tower was broadcasting Westwood One. Disappointing games, emotional, and both of them somehow gratifying. Not a huge angering disappointment this year, they played their hearts out, my Green Bay Packers.

The freak out of the trip happened when I thought my car was slowly dying. I was doing 75, which is now her favorite speed, and suddenly I'm decelerating and don't know why. So the path of thoughts you take when you begin freaking out is really a marvelous observation of the tendencies of your own mind. for me it went like this: What's going on? Why am I slowing down? I have enough gas. The engine is running so cool that it's barley piping heat into my senior sedan. What the fuck! It must be dying. OK, now I'm flooring it and it's not going faster. I spent all this money of this fucking thing and it dies on me in North Carolina. Oh son of a bitch. This fucking sucks. I'm going to have to give up on this trip so early and ship everything out. why did you buy such a stupid piece of...

You idiot. You've been going uphill for 10 minutes now. downshift.

I had forgotten all about the Appalachian Mountains actually being mountains.

Safe in Asheville. Longshot did great on the drive. Big confidence booster.

Statistics:

480 miles from DC to Asheville
$45 or so in gas. (tank and a half)
$23 in cab rides
$4 on bacon
5 (I think) facebook friends
17 degrees when I woke up this morning
0 heat in Kirsten's apartment this morning
1 shower I took in the dark (she also has a blown fuse.)

Beers since Friday. This segment does not have me feeling very good about myself because it was proper tied on this weekend, but strangely proud that the Boston College tradition was upheld. Sigh. Here we go.

Day 4-Teddy, Sharif, Danny

#17 Shot of Jim Beam from handle @ Ted's
#18 One half of a Duvel bomber. (split with Teddy, obtained from my cooler)
#19 Lakefront New Grist
#20 Yeungling Black & Tan
#21 & #22 D.I.Y Rum 'n Cokes @Dans Cafe
#23 & #24 Half a ketchup bottle full of whiskey ginger
#25, #26, #27 Peak Organic Ipa @Toledo Lounge

Day 5-Nina, Danny, Paul, Teddy

#28 Big Daddy Double Daddy IPA @RFD
#29 Dogfish Head 60 Minute IPA
#30 Double Daddy
#31 Gouden Carlolus Hopsingjoor @The Passenger
#32 Oskar Blues Gordon's Imperial IPA
#33 Steel Reserve can
#34 Steel Reserve can
#35 Presidente @Ted's
#36 Presidente on the walk to this party, Adams Morgan
#37 Can't remember-it was bottled
#38 Budweiser can.

Day 6-Kirsten, Asheville, NC

#39 Green Man IPA @Jack of the Wood
#40 Stone Ruination
#41 Stone Ruination-pretty ruined from the night before...

I'm staying another night in Asheville, then off to Jacksonville tomorrow via Charleston, maybe? I'm just gonna start driving ad see what happens tomorrow, wherever I get tired/lazy/thirsty after 6 hours of driving, that's probably were I'll stop.

No MVP this stage, everybody was fucking awesome.

Cooler

Day 2 (Day 4 of Travel)

Safe in D.C.

The last entry came a day after everything happened, good for perspective, but perhaps allowing experience to suffer. I'm not sure I like how that will work, but I suppose these posts will eventually present two different voices of a man in the moment versus a man in reflection.

But even in the current moment, I'm starting to feel almost tingly, unleashed from the fluid structure of my last 8 years and more like a rolling flood. Now I've left home and I'm really on a trip. Had to be flexible with my plans again and Philly just isnt in the cards. Next time, I guess. Oh well, straight on and making progress. I can't be stopped until Florida because money burns.

After having arrived from Boston, my stuff was immediately unloaded into the house. I felt like the removal of it all would make my car lose its gravitational pull and hurl into space. Essentially, the next two days were spent taking stuff that has accumulated over the last generation of my life and letting them find the trash bags that would ultimately turn into a hefty donation. I hope my five National Amusements, Pepsi embossed white polo shirts that I was required to wear while I worked at Circle Cinemas makes a few people happy. There's a lot of really nice stuff too, come on, don't think I'm terrible!

So after sorting through the stuff I moved first, the tuff I moved second, and the stuff I never moved from my house in the first place, I had to cobble together the travel kit I'd need to survive, document, and rock this trip. Here's what two days of careful sorting and separation produced:

A suitcase bag full of clothes (rolling wheels)
A real bag of real steel tools
A roadside assistance kit. window
Trumpet
Medical/hygeine kit
Yoga mat
Blow up bed
DVR camera
Cooler
Suitbag containing two suits, and one outfit that seemed particulaly Miami...
A cooler with beers.

All of this fit in the trunk. I love Tetris.

And in the rear seat:

Bedding
Shamwows
my bike.
My backpack
My computer.

More than I thought it would amount to, but Longshot was doing well the way. I think. I'm not sure if I smelled something burning...famous last words.

First was NYC to get lunch with pedicabber, Bryan Plust, all the person who introduced me to freecycle Boston, the venue through which, I was connected to my "free" car. I owed him a coffee for that.

A quick, smoke filled visit to my dad and his girlfriend to talk strategy, and I was off to DC. It costs $20 or so in tolls to get to DC. And about 3:45, 233mi + 1 hr at 53mi from my house to NYC, this is the furthest in one day that my car has ever gone, and, to my knowledge, it went the fastest it ever did today as well at 81 MPH. This was when the burning smell occurred.

It was really easy to get to Teddy's, which is apparently two blocks away from the DC/Maryland border, and I may give Adams Morgan, "The Lansdowne of Washington" the visit it deserved. How about "The Ol' Boston Try", a polo'd shirt for me, a gin and tonic, and that top that makes your tits look big, baby-that atempt you see at that real classy joint Tequila Rain on Lansdowne. They must be having fun if they keep doing it. Or is it that it might be a never ending wave of new douchebags?

Statistics:

purchased $37 in gas today-bunt half a tank and 90 miles on Orange County
4 New Tires, front alignment completed
3 small car problems identified by Joe, Sears technician
2 small car problems I am actually personally capable of fixing
2 small car problems that are actually the same small problem twice in two places.
$28 in tolls from my house to Washington, DC.
28 years I've been a living person
0 pushups completed today.
286 mi traveled
4 coffees imbibed (2 cups from a pot, 2 Venti Starbucks iced.)
Ozzy Osbourne's "No More Tears" came on twice on the way.
So did Mrs. Robinson by The Lemonheads.

I think I left my iPod radio converter was left in the Budget truck on New Years Eve. Suck.

Beers from...

Day 2 with Tom Francis of Greenwood Lake
#6 Samual Adams
#7 Samuel Adams
#8 LakeFront New Grist
#9 Samuel Adams

Day 3 with Amanda, and OCC Phil
#10 harpoon ufo pale ale (at home)
#11 Yeungling Draft
#12 Yeungling Draft
#13 Yeungling Botlle
#14 Corona (a quarter cheaper than Yeungling here, with a FREE LIME!)
#15 ""
#16 "" from a guy named Kevin, who annoyed his friends back to their wives, and that Amanda and I were fucking with about doing porn together and being married for 11 months, and being named James (me) and Ryan (Amanda) I told him we'd email him a link to our porn and that it was inappropriate to have him watch on his Droid right in front of us. Man, that's weird and embarassing, amIright? That is when he handed me his True Value Business Card and bought us a round.

People of the stage: Mom, Oma (my grandmother for being strong and supportive), and Bryan Plust for introducing me to freecycle



May be picking up a passenger Sunday....

Day One: Trash On The Dash

Entry for Jan 5th. Boston-New York

I had not realized what my possessions were really saying about me until I tried to pack everything I owned and move them all out of a city I had grown some roots in. Fireworks that weren't ever set off, CD's that never got a single listening, clothing that I had only for remote contingencies, wires that had never been connected to anything. A lot of unused potential. Or "You are a huge fucking packrat and you need to shed some excess shit from your life." Goddamnit, how am I going to fit this box into my already low-riding 1984 Toyota Corolla named Longshot? I feared that either the tires would rub out and pop under the pressure of the car's weighty cab, or it would break in half after hitting one of those Connecticut road disagreements. I was more horrified at the prospect of driving half a car so my shoulders were a little tense for most of the drive.

I had to leave some shit behind, and this was after I had already rented a TRUCK to take most of my shit away. A truckload and a carload, and a few castaway items that will sit in damp storage. So be it, I'll be back, and it will necessitate a car rental.

The first thing I did before I even got a mile from my former residence was to stop for coffee. I had so much shit packed into my car that I needed to leave it unlocked. So on this leg of the trip, I have to leave my car in full view from wherever I stop because my car doesn't have the original driver's side front door, it's a replacement, and I cannot unlock this door with the car key I have. This necessitates me entering my locked car through the passenger's side door, every time it is fully locked. But since there was so much shit in the car, not only did I have to leave it unlocked, but the only place to put an rubbish I acquired from stops was on the dashboard. Starbucks cup with ice, sitting on the dash. Since dinner plans were adjusted, I made a sad stop for my first food at a drivethru KFC. I feel gross today. Starbucks cup now has company because Dr. Pepper KFC cup has come to visit. Also chicken bones was there. Spork stopped in to say hi as well.

The initial phase of the cross-country plan was to go visit friends in Rochester and grab dinner in Northampton on the way, but the plans, in a bizarrely fortunate way, crumbled and it became apparent that I'd better get home with my stuff asap, and give my car a better chance to remain whole. so you want to know more about the plan, you say... VAT EES ZE PASSVORD?!?

As of now here is the itenerary:

NY (home) and NYC (pops)
Philly
DC
Asheville
??? Some dump in Georgia?
Ft Lauderdale-Here is where I'll stop for a month to produce some pedicash from a few weeks of warm weather riding. Except it was 44 degrees there yesterday. Thanks, thanks a lot, Global Warming. I'll be here until about the 10th of Feb when I depart for...
Some dump in the FL panhandle (huhuh)
New Orleans-Mardi Gras Feb 12-16th
Houston
Austin-to work South by Southwest Music and Film festival-three prospects for jobs down there, "chauffeurs license" pending
Dallas
Norman, OK
Lubbock, TX
Denver/Boulder/Ft. Collins/Aspen/Breckenridge
A nap somewhere in the Utah desert
Vegas, baby.
LA.

Statistics:

I left my old place weighing 170.4 lbs.

Fun new place I discovered on this portion of the trip?

Vernon, CT. It's 3 miles away from a Wendy's, and has a KFC.

Person(s) of this leg of the trip: Amanda-former roommate in my first month of NYC (2005), friend since 14 years of age, had a few welcome home for now drinks with her and the dude Phil from Orange County Choppers. Plans to faux-marry in Vegas in development. Also Mom. Mom rules.

Drinks had: 5. Yeungling, Jameson shot, Yeungling, Samuel Adams Boston Lager, Brooklyn Lager

Gas: One 5 gallon fill from half tank in CT $15

Miles: 225

Song: Bob Seger, Turn the Page (It came on the radio three times on separate stations)

Next stop Philly via NYC. Stand Clear of the Closing Doors, Please.