One Last Post on my trip from St. Louis to Oakland.

Co-Pilots Log: day 7; Bakersfield, CA, we’re nearly there. Inside a Motel Six that, apparently doubles as a drugstore, (if you know what I mean). We’ve a little liquor left from the bottle of Patron we opened in Vegas. We had told our selves we were saving it for our arrival at our new home. But Vegas called for it. The Hotel we found was amazingly cheap and amazingly decked out. The pool was much needed and things seem to be looking up. I’m getting ahead of myself though. The Grand Canyon came first and it was beyond words. There is nothing like it. Movies and pictures do not do it justice. The complete vastness of it would take years to explore. We saw only a small portion of the southern Rim but snapped about eight rolls of film. We woke up from our bed of rocks at what we supposed was seven A.M. It turned out to be six but we didn’t find that out till later. It was good that we woke up early and beat much of the tourist rush. The area where the fancy hotels and cabins are located was disappointing and lame, but the throngs of foreign tourist and ignorant American brats running about was pushed aside for the majesty of the canyon. I’ve never stared so long at a hole in the ground. I wish we could have spent more time, but Vegas were calling and it was a few hundred miles away. After brunch at a Flintstones themed restaurant/gift shop/dilapidated theme park, we sped through the remainder of Arizona. I actually got to take the wheel for only the second time on the trip. I drove as fast as I could without alarming the Capitan the stretch was long, straight, and flat. That was until we reached the winding down hill road of the Hoover Dam. That was after we survived a police check point that reminded me of the old WWII films. “Where are your papers”, were the only thing they didn’t say. I angered everyone behind us as I took the turns through the Dam slowly. Had we not been hauling everything we owned I would have loved to stop and get a few pics. I relied instead on the Captain hanging out the passenger window. The ride out was equally as winding only uphill instead. Then it was onward into Vegas. After we got into some heavy traffic the Captain demanded the wheel back and we pulled into the hotel. Terrible's Hotel and Casino, $39 bucks a night and you get a giant ass flat screen TV, a phat ass pool surrounded by Palm Trees and all the towels you can steal. The place was guarded by a Giant neon and steal Mexican Sherriff. We were so giddy. The power of the Canyon had reinvigorated us and we were prepared to take on Vegas. I of course was pre occupied with hopes of getting hitched by the King of Rock’n’Roll. This caused some friction, but not as much as the lights and gaudy shtick on the main strip. We had more fun the next morning in the Hotel casino. I recommend Terrible’s to one and all. There service was impeccable and there steak was delicious. They were the only ones who actually paid attention to our empty hands and glasses. About $60 was lost overall, not bad. After our Steak and Nachos breakfast/lunch, the Captain gave in to my desire to be married by Elvis. Only there wasn’t enough time to get the license and the wedding without staying another night. The whole deal would have run us another four hundred easy and we simply couldn’t afford it. So we’ll have to come back.  Beyond Vegas lied Death Valley and 111Ëštemperatures. “Out in the Dessert”, John sang, “There would be no worries.” No worries Other than the van overheating, and not making it to any camp grounds before dark, forcing us into another motel. And any motel would be a letdown after the luxury of Las Vegas. And we weren’t any where special hidden three blocks off the strip. But dreams of penny slots will have to comfort me tonight as I drift off to reruns of Ghost in the Shell and crystal meth is bought and sold outside the door. I’m not sure how Cali is going to receive either of us, but we are here now. The heat is starting to subside. I think we may do alright.

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