A Most Interesting Trip

I have completed a twenty eight hundred mile trip in three days.

Yee-Hah!

It was about as much fun as a root canal sans numbing. I have added a third fuel tank to my truck, so I can carry a hundred gallons of diesel with twenty of that in reserve in the rear tank. The weight of the rig, truck and camper, something over thirteen thousand pounds, that translates to about ten mpg, depending on the grade. I saw seven pounds of turbo boost and twelve hundred degrees of turbo outlet temp. I was afraid I would melt something off the exhaust. I had to downshift four times for load and once for temps. A thousand miles is about fifteen hours in the seat. Add the usual opportunities and it gets near eighteen hours.

Murphy lives, but only until I find him.

Nadine the Navigator (GPS), or less pleasantly known as "The 8itch in the box", drug me through; Butt Crack Georgia, Armpit Arkansas, Anus Alabama, Carbuncle California, Goose Pimple New Mexico, and a whole raft of places that don't even bear contemplation.

At seven thirty 1-18-08 in Grants New Mexico, that would be today, it was four degrees with a fifteen to twenty mph wind. That puts the wind chill down well below zero. That sucks, I don't care where you're from.

The non professional drivers are as stupid as I remember them being, and the pros's are still a$$ holes. One of them is lucky I am more calm in my old age. He was screaming at me over the radio because my driving speed wasn't as consistent as he wanted. Instead of inviting him to pull over and get face to face, I had been watching him for a long time and continued to watch him for hours after, I just called him a liar and a fool, politely and a shade too subtle for him to realise it, and continued as before. Pounding some one who has to peer through the steering wheel just makes you look petty.

I saw a Golden Eagle for the first time, it is as big as a medium hound, sitting on the cross tree of a power pole in Arizona, looking for a Jack Rabbit I expect. Beautiful and unexpected.
The Ravens are the pimps of the crow family, they look like a crow the way the Sopranos look Italian.

I found out those big tractors that are burning up the road, only get .75 gallon to one gallon per mile. WOW!!!

I only turned the music on for a few minuets, one time. I was too busy listening to the truck.

And to end a long gruelling trip poorly, when I started to re crank the truck to pull forward a few feet, ALL power cut off, bad connection on the starter I believe, but aggravating anyway.