If I wasn’t already a drinking man, I would seriously consider taking it up.

Man. I am bored.

The EM-50 Phantom Rambler has a worn out spindle. I’m not sure what that is exactly, but from the amount of time it is taking to get the part, I assume it is as easy as ordering a new motherboard for  a Knight Industries 2000 (K.I.T.T.)

They don’t just have them laying around in every godforsaken, podunk town, i.e. Barstow, CA.

Because of this, I am on foot. Which, when I think about it, is the same as saying that I remain seated. But, stationary. Walking is for Hobbits.

I have nothing to do all day but be alone with my thoughts. You have no idea how frightening this can be.  At least when I had wheels I could keep moving, putting distance between myself and any psychic residue my disturbing thoughts may have imprinted on the landscape.

So, I sit around wondering if 11:15 a.m. is too early to start drinking. Even if I claim my heart is with Trixie and, thus, on EST, soooo’yeah…still too early.

I met another stranded traveler. Can’t quite figure her out.  Her name is Jen. (pic related)

She is young, pretty, educated, well-spoken, has an outward personality, has excellent personal hygiene, and is demure, as is evidenced by the way we met. She informed me that she was going to use the disabled EM-50 Phantom Rambler as a privacy wall so she could use the water hose at the gas station to wash her hair.

Naturally, I respected her wish. But needed evidence that I can mind my own business and that I am not just making this up. So, I snuck up behind her and snapped a pic to prove to the haters that I have consideration for others…

Haha! I’m just kidding! She asked me to snap these pics for her Twitter thing. She even gave me permission to post these.

Everybody is a weirdo and she is certainly no exception. She has been living in her car for a couple of weeks now. It is broken down. With a flat tire. Actually, just a slow leak that eventually resulted in a flat tire. So, there she sits.

I figured this had to be some kind of con or something. She explained she wasn’t in a hurry because being on the road costs money.  Yeah. Who is she telling?

She set out from Boston in mid or late October and landed here.

I couldn’t figure out her angle, mainly because she never asked me for anything. See what I mean about being a weirdo?

She went on to explain that she has a Starbuck’s App so she can eat (Starbucks is crammed into the parking lot with the service station) but, I must’nt’ve heard her correctly because I don’t know what that means. Also, I wanted to use a word with two apostrophes.

I asked my mechanic what the story on her is. He replied, (and I shit you not), by screwing his face up quizzically and saying,

“Yeah…I don’t know. She’s been back there a couple of weeks now. Doesn’t bother anybody. She hasn’t come around and asked us for anything. I’ve been meaning to go talk to her but…huff…I just stay so busy all the time.”

Well, that cleared that up.

I gave her a half a bottle of whiskey even though she didn’t ask me for it – which is  what made it such a beautiful gesture on my part.

I am comfortable here. I take my meals at Mega Tommy’s Burger Joint on Historic Route 66…

It is good. Except for a soup called Menudo. I didn’t know what it was, but ordered it because of the name. I figured one taste would have me going all, “Mmmbop,  Scooby Dooby Dooby dup…Mmmbop…” or something. It didnt. It was awful. It was large clumps of chicken fat stewed in a bowl of chicken grease. Yiiish. (pic related)

Also, there is a tourist attraction across the street… (hang on, I’ll snap a pic)…

Yeah. You can’t really see it – Starbuck’s is blocking it.  This is the place with the McDonald’s that is faked to look like a converted railroad car. But the railroad car is just a storage area where they store, like extra straws and buns and stuff. I peeked

There is also a Panda Express and a butt load of gift shops that sell really awful dollar store crap.

Check out the wide stance on this guy.

There is a Wetzel’s Pretzels and a Subway. Everywhere is packed. Except this place…

I empathized. I, too, know what it is like to be bored out of one’s mind in Barstow.

I thought I would cut ol’ Jed a break and give him a good belly laugh to help the time pass. I rushed up to him and said,

“I hurried right over. Some guy told me you were running out of me!”

He slowly blinked at me without speaking.

Figuring he was, perhaps a bit slow, I explained it.

“You know…Seinfeld…’…the Jerk Store called. They’re running out of you.’…Jerk Store…Jerky Store…get it?”

He finally spoke, “Are you gonna buy something or…?”

Some people have no sense of humor.

This place has parking for about 45 buses. Tour buses go there. A lot. They have special lounges for the bus drivers.

Fuzzy Wuzzy was a bus driver…

I can’t figure it out. I have explored this town in as much detail as my feet would carry me (about 100 yds in each direction) and can’t figure out the draw. Maybe this is a stop off en route to Vegas? I don’t think so. It is just weird if you ask me.

Speaking of weird, I miss me some Trixie!