Had I posted anything yesterday, here’s what I would’ve written:
1.26
Today, Lauren and I finally started our trek eastward. Having traded in our SUV for the more rugged and cool Chevy minivan, we packed up the last of her belongings (her cat Kytka, and birds, Linus, Louise, Peanut, and Oliver) and hit the open road.
For those who have driven with me, you’ll read that as, I crept onto the open road like an 80 year old man with no depth perception. I’m hazardous behind the wheel, even at the blazing 35 mph that I like to drive.
Luckily, the mountain passes of Washington are made for a patient and methodical driver, such as me. You see, the speed limit in the mountain passes is actually 35 miles per hour.
I’d have felt right at home on these roads, at these speeds, if it weren’t for the blinking neon signs on the side of the road: Mandatory Tire Chains.
I’m sorry, mandatory who now?!
So at the next exit we pulled off of the highway and into a gas station to find these mandatory chains of doom. The attendant, I’ll call him Jose, was kind enough to point to a big pile of boxes on the floor in the corner.
The pile looked something like a stack of black fishing tackle boxes, each with a number on the side. 1038. 1042. So you look through this large, spiral bound notebook with a picture of a cobra on the front, and find the number that corresponds with your tire size – the manliest notebook EVER!
The snow was picking up, and here I stood, outside of our minivan holding what looked like a very small ladder made out of metal cables. The “cobra” book said I had the right size tire chains. Jose had nodded approvingly. And now all I needed to do was figure out how to put them on the car.
“No, no Lauren. You stand back. This is a man’s job.”
Yes, that’s exactly what I would have said if Lauren wasn’t in an air cast and stuck in the car. Unfortunately, Lauren had to stay in the car. So, there was no reason for me to exercise my well thought out speech … re-read the three sentences above.
Tire. Chains. Are. Awesome! And, here, I thought it impossible to make our rental minivan any cooler. Add a pair of bad-ass cobra tire chains, and you’re ready to shred some asphalt.
There was a lot more to write about yesterday
.
Lauren and I finally leaving Seattle
Marc’s first experience with tire chains
End of day 1. Exhausted!
Hey…slacking on the blog! I think it is so funny…keep it coming!
Seriously, I hope you guys are having a great time together. Can’t wait to hear all about the trip when you get here!!
Be safe,
Love,
jenn