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November 3, 2006


Tell us a road trip story.

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Stacy: Kerowacky

The road is my woman, my mother, my blood. She fucks me, nurtures me, powers me. She is neverending, going forever forward, backward, sideways, in and out. Even up and down. We drive all night, all day, and forever. The sky shifts in colors, blue pink purple, red green yellow. And sometimes orange. The wind is a razor, a feather, a sneeze. The towns and cities are a blur, a magnet reversed, the anti-flypaper. Driving, riding, passing time, smokes and bullshit. Car, truck, bus, doesn’t matter, we can’t stop moving. Never stop moving.

Unless, like, we run out of acid.

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Tanya: Tinker

I’ve been driving since last week. Stopped in Vegas, then spent way too long in Arizona. Too many canyons and ruins. How often does a girl get to sightsee, though, right?

But now I have to rush. I left Tombstone this morning, and New Mexico and the panhandle were a blur. It’s too cold for touring now, anyway. I was going to stop in Oklahoma City, but it’s so beautiful tonight. The sky is so black and the roads so empty.

Just a few more miles, and then I’ll stop.

Oh, how pretty, a deer!

A deer in my lane.

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David: In Media Res

The Pope and Hitler cruised down the Las Vegas strip in their ’65 Mustang convertible, keeping an eye out for the law and trying to remain inconspicuous.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” said the Pope.

“Just stay cool and act casual. Everything will be fine,” Hitler assured him. “And take off the hat. People are staring.”

“Fine?! We’ve got your dead stripper in the trunk! How are things going to be fine?”

“You can start by not shouting the words ‘dead stripper in the trunk’ near all these nice tourists. And she’s not mine. I keep telling you that.”

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Jim: After The Jayhawks Won

One of the half-dozen beer-soaked revelers inside the Winnebago karaoked with the music, “Hold the line…Love isn’t always on time…”

“Hold it down back there!” Darrell yelled. “We’re coming up on a thunderstorm.”

John stumbled forward. “The highway’s straight from here to Wichita,” he slurred. “Just blow right through it.”

Darrell grasped the wheel and drove into the blinding rain. Then something hit the RV and it began to roll…

* * *

Darrell surveyed the damage. “Looks like we walk,” he said.

“Where to?” Skip asked.

“Those green buildings, I suppose. This yellow road seems to go that way.”

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Ted: Heading to Ciudad Acuna: A True Story

"Dude, you know how fast you were goin'?"

"Shit, sorry man. I haven't driven in, like, eight months."


"Hey, why did you slow down?"

"The guy in front of me slowed down and pulled over to the shoulder: I thought he might need help."

"Naw man, that's how they drive here. They pull over so the faster guy can pass."

"Even on a two-lane highway like this?"

"Especially on a two-lane highway like this."



"What the fuck is that?!"

"Relax man. It's just the tarantulas migrating to the mating grounds. Happens every year."

"Fuck, I gotta get outta Texas."

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