As I type we are speeding down an Oklahoma highway a few miles from Arkansas and so far the most eventful tragedy on the trip was shattering a full bottle of vodka and a bottle of Kahlua.
It was funny looking up directions from California to Knoxville, Tennessee. Siri was like “Merge on to I-40 East and continue for two thousand one hundred and ninety-nine miles.”
When traveling with the shantyboat, camping at night means just stopping anywhere and going to sleep in the boat. Cooking a delicious dinner, cocktails, and watching a movie are optional. That never gets old.
It is still not easy towing this 7000 pound beast down the road. But the new heavier truck and the new trailer wheels and suspension certainly help. Taking the southern route across the continent means we don’t have to climb up the Sierra Nevadas and the steep part of the Rocky Mountains.
Still if we go above 65 or hit uneven pavement or encounter cross winds, the trailer gets a little squirrelly. But we’ve gone from whiteknuckling it to casual one-handed driving.
Up to Oklahoma City we more or less traveled the route of Highway 66. We enjoyed the evocative ruins of old highway 66 towns fallen on hard times.
Two other passengers worth mentioning: Hazel chills out patiently in her backseat lair.
And Squirsy joined us for the trip but is grouchy about the pain in his phantom limb that he claims he lost in The Nom.
