Co-Pilots Log: Day 5; the Grand Canyon. It’s the 31st of July, 2008 A.D. 11:26 P.M. Mountain time. We’ve just set up camp inside the Grand Canyon National Park. We set up the tent in the dark; it cost twelve dollars for one night on a bed of rocks. We’re surrounded by European Tourist German is being spoken to the left and the right; at the communal toilets I heard French and possibly Dutch. We are tired and we’ve logged as many fights as miles now. The trip out of New Mexico and into Arizona was long. Our morning began with a six hundred dollar drop on new brakes for Murder van. The trip through the mountains of southern Colorado cost us dearly. We missed our scheduled trip to the Aztec ruins. By the time we reached Four Corners we were hot and at each other’s throat yet again. The arguing did not detract from the awe of the land. I saw through it long enough to marvel at the fact that we were standing on the edge of four states. We passed a group of old men on big expensive Harleys and I imagined myself making the journey back in similar fashion someday. Massive dessert plains contain the odd husk of a burned out car dotted the route out. Arizona air is dry and the landscape is old I can see how a politician like John McCain could come to power here. The area we drove through was on a Native American reservation. It was one of four reservations that we passed through. The sheer poverty that most of them lived in was disheartening. Huge billboards with Native American celebrities I didn’t recognize stated oddly-“I care if you drive drunk”. Their ramshackled houses and broken down trailers where not eclipsed by their newly built community centers and food distribution centers. We rode with the feeling of being in a third world country. When other people complain of how bad they have it and how the white man is holding them down I will tell them of this shit. Yet the tribe which borders the canyon seems to have benefited most from the tourist trade. Their streets where clean and the town itself looked extremely typical. There were McyDs’ , and Taco Bell. We saw a Native American skate park and overheard a local punk band. I would have loved to stay and watch the show, but we were trying to make it to the camp ground before dark, so much for that. There’s a rock poking me in the ass and I reek of Deep Woods Off. I’ve now been hit up for change by three separate Native American tribesmen. I have seen some absolutely beautiful sites in the last five days my mind is fried. I have two shots of Moonshine left, and some warm whiskey to help get me to sleep. I’m begining to feel the cab of Murder Van is too small for the Captain and my egos. I hope we can reach Vegas in one piece. I lay back and look up at the stars next to the Capitan it’s almost too much to process.
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