We are racing the clock once again, for a radio performance on WFDU, the big folk station on the east coast. We’ve decided to stay at the Fort Lee Holiday Inn. Morbidly, it’s where four of the 9/11 hijackers stayed on September 10th. It has the best rates and it’s closest to public transportation.
We are curiously observing the Democratic National Convention from our place here in the Yukon and from television screens in the motels where we stop. Last night they had the big guns: Carter and The Clintons. They got things off to an exciting, optimistic start. That energy will likely drain out of the room right around the time John Kerry climbs onto the stage (though the DNC wisely put Lieberman on just before the nominee, the only Democrat who could possibly be considered more boring than Kerry). I know I can’t possible tolerate another four years of Bush and yet John Kerry does absolutely nothing for me. I also fear that the decision to alienate and isolate Ralph Nadar from the convention and the party will again drive votes to Nadar, siphoning off precisely the 5% Kerry needs to win. The Democrats are making the same mistakes they did in 2000 – locking out the far left and nominating a boring, cautious candidate who will nobly lose.
25.2 Gallons of Regular Unleaded Gas
We just made our first stop. Can’t believe no one had to pee until Kingman. I just turned the wheel over to Paul Lacques. In general, I trust Paul very much. He’s responsible, solid. But of the three other Hawk drivers, he makes me the most nervous. It’s a mild nervous but a nervous nonetheless. (let’s compare driving records, accidents, etc. – PL) I’m not sure if it’s his eyesight or his tendency to turn around and talk with me while I’m in back seat.
See, I’m in the back seat now. I love it back here. Somehow the seats are more comfortable. Still, it’s difficult for me to relax all the way as PL keeps turning around, telling me about the end of oil. I know that if I smoke, it will help. But I’m staying away from that, trying to keep my voice strong and clear for the many shows ahead.It’s strange but no one seems hungry. We thought about stopping at the Cracker Barrel but we decided not to support those assholes and their racial slurs. Right now the two Pauls are discussing the merits of Subway. They believe it’s a cut above the rest of the highway food. I think I agree and yet, somehow, I think we’re all being suckered.
A wooden handle at one end. A hard blue ball at the other. A flexible metal strip in the middle.
While driving, Rob begins beating his shoulder with it. “What’cha doin’ there Rob? I ask. “It’s a donger” he says by way of reply. It relaxes tight muscles.