Miles roll by, time passes, I am behind the wheel driving. Not actually right now, I am typing and that would be difficult. Anyway, I thought I would relate to my faithful readers (both of you) some of the ways I pass the time when I drive.
The little trip computer on the truck fascinates me. I have 2 odometers, an average speed calculator, and miles to empty. Each readout is accessed by pushing a little stick on the dash. I am like a lab rat with the damn stick. The first odometer is set at the beginning of the trip and not touched again. Odometer 2 is used for burst in between towns. the average speed calculator is wonderful. I found that even though my speedometer says I am doing 80mph, I am really only doing 75mph. No tickets anyway so far… I have also found that the miles to empty will jump from 18 miles left to zero miles left in one mile, but the truck will continue to operate for another 25 miles. This last experiment caused me great stress.
When I have a traveling companion, we might evoke the game “The Duke of Miles”. This game works best on interstate when you can see a long ways off. The game consist of picking a distant hill on the horizon and guessing how far away it is. We have a huge set of rules involving over/under, who calls, etc.
Fuel, drink & bathroom stops… I mentioned in an earlier post my desire for the fuel tank to be empty just as my bladder is full and the perfect truck stop is at the next exit. The desire for this “kizmit” moment has caused me great discomfort and stress. I hate when the highway sign promises a fuel stop, only to exit, and see that it is 4 miles down a rule hiway in a town called Rufus.
For whatever reason, I think my instincts take me to the same fuel stops each time. And it is not because of fond memories. Some of the bathrooms in some of the stops are not good. Often, I will wait until someone enters so that I do not have to touch the door handle. I also like to wash my face at each stop. The cool water acts as a mild stimulant and refreshes me. This is a grand plan unless the paper towel dispenser is empty or they only have those damn hand jets. When I have to use a handjet on my face, I like to pretend I am a test pilot, like in the movie “The Right Stuff.” I would be John Glenn, by the way…
Never eat “Chester’s Chicken.” Never, just don’t. And now some random road photos…
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