I left Thursday morning to Kansas City, MO, to visit my friend Kimberly and be involved in her wedding. The drive down as a nice dull 12 hours through Michigan, Indiana, Illinois, and Missouri. On the way I saw signs for the world's
largest covered wagon, and a grain elevator museum. I did not stop for them. I also, it seems, didn't need to slow down for cops. I watched them sit still as drivers past them doing 15 over!
Also, you know how the radiation of the heat coming off the blacktop creates a mirage where the road looks wet? That's the same thing that happens in the desert. This has severely disillusioned me, because when I was a kid, the
cartoon made mirages out to be these full on interactive hallucinations. I'm very disappointed at actual mirages.
Friday and Saturday were both spent helping Kimberly, chronic procrastinator extraordinaire, finalize all of her details for her wedding. As the big day approached several of her friends made their way into town as well, so I got to
meet her spiffy homies.
Finally, the big day, I walked my little Kimmy Sue down the isle and presented her to her soon-to-be husband Robert. Robert looked amazing in his tuxedo, but he was out-shone by Kimberly's radiance in her gorgeous wedding dress.
Most of the family was Mexican, which meant a Mexican wedding. There was a mariachi band, and the food included refried beans, rice, tortillas, and pork chili.
It was a pretty hectic weekend, but I was thrilled to be part of Kimberly's wedding, and see her fulfill one of her dreams of becoming a wife.
Monday morning, I drove home the same way I came. Only, at the northern edge of Illinois I hit a massive pothole the size of a cow. There was a huge strike on my car, and I feared my wheel was severely damaged. After the initial
shock wore off, I found that my tire was okay, the wheel sounded fine, and the alignment was still straight. And then, at 80 miles per hour, my tire blew out. I struggled for a moment with the steering wheel, but finally got my precious
Chloe over to the side of the road, only to find a guard rail. I had to drive over an over pass and a bit more guard rail before I could find a safe place to park. I got out and surveyed the damage. There was a four inch gash in the
side wall of the tire. I was 250 miles from home. The next four hours were spent driving 60 miles per hour, in the slow lane, on a donut, through three states. I was not amused.
I made it home, much later than I expected, but safe. The next day I discovered that my rim was damaged and, because I have fancy rims on an foreign car, it was going to cost $400 to replace. Dear State Treasurer of Illinois, you
can expect my bill in three business days.
Total drive: 1,615.3 miles!