I'm busy like a bee in the spring, prepping my tiny house on wheels to make it across the states. We haven't been together long, but already I'm a slave to her. A labor of love. Does she have the right wheels, is her radiator too old to make it through the desert heat, will the pop-top leak, will she carry our load. I insist on being over-prepared to pure exhaustion. Poor Nate just beside himself, watching me buzz maniacally between the dmv, the mechanic, the hardware store. He would have just handed over the cash, packed a bag, and driven off in the rusty hog.
Given the idea that we needed to clean out the fuel tank before our emissions test, we spent last Sunday driving aimlessly for six hours until the meter read empty. Two tanks of gas and a bag of turkey jerky later, the car failed anyway. But no time is wasted here. An undirected drive in Northern California will always take you somewhere you want to go.
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