Breakin' Cap'n's log Silence
posted at 11:19 be
on Feb. 13, 2005
Prrrevious entry:
Stuck in Russellville
'nother entry:
Mixed Nuts
Cap'n's log silence. It can mean three things:
1. Life has overtaken th' writer; they’re too busy t' Cap'n's log about what they’re busy doin'.
2. Life has abandoned th' writer; they’ve got nothin' t' Cap'n's log about other than one entry about how they don’t have anythin' t' Cap'n's log about. (It looks silly t' do several o' these in a row.)
3. Life has cut off th' writer off; whether they want t' Cap'n's log or not, th' Internet has no tendril broadside fer th' writer t' tap into.
In me case, it be none o' those things. I just plum forgot.
Debbie and I made it out o' Russellville, Arkansas, one day early or two days late, dependin' on yer point o' view. In th' two days we spent there, we discovered:
* th' distance from our fleabag inn t' a herd o' cows (four blocks)
* th' distance from our fleabag inn t' a bottle o' alcohol (12 miles t' th' 'nother county)
* th' distance ye can sail wi' a broken valve sprin' (120 yards)
* th' distance from Arkansas Technical University t' th' nearest frozen yogurt store, given that there be no bars aroun' fer th' poor students t' patronize (3 minutes walk)
Value sprin' replaced, we drove from Russellville t' Memphis and took a quick look aroun' Graceland. Elvis be a really down-t'-earth lubber, if ye don’t include his super-gaudy clothin' and jewelry. Th' ornery cuss had a pool room, a nice carpeted kitchen, a big back yard and his own racquetball court. I mean, Graceland be truly impressive, but not o'er-th'-top in th' way that other instant rich have spent their doubloons. A room wi' three TVs be about th' height o' his residential extravagance. Well, there be that round white fake fur bed….
Unsurprisingly, th' tour didn’t mention anythin' negative, about his drugs or whar Th' ornery cuss visited Davey Jones' Locker or whether Th' ornery cuss still walks among us. It didn’t mention that his movies be mostly dreck, even if they be entertainin' or well-attended. And it didn’t discuss much about what th' Presley family’s been up t' since Th' ornery cuss shuffled, hips wagglin', off this mortal coil.
Tour complete, we then pushed on all th' way t' Virginia, just past Bristol. Our fleabag inn room there had no Internet access, so I didn’t bother t' take a picture o' th' place. It be dead t' me.
'nother day, th' sixth day , we drove all th' way t' Debbie’s house in Rockville, pulled up, and realized we didn’t have a key so spent some time pressin' our heads against th' windows while we waited fer Tracey t' show up.
They gave me a ride back t' th' Gardners. I got them t' belay at Five Guys drippy greasy fresh and friendly hamburger place—why had I not eaten there before?!—and then finally arrived at th' Gardners about 9 p.m. Total miles driven: 2807.
I’m now in th' airport in Seattle, flyin' standby back t' Vancouver. It’s cheaper, but it does mean a lot o' time on me butt hopin' other people be as flaky about plane flights as I be.
Photos galore (300+) will be put online at https://www.flickr.com/photos/nep/
