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Andy's Trip, part whatever, yes, it's back!

Subject: Andy's Trip, part whatever, yes, it's back!
From: "Ramm, Andy" <>
Date: Fri, 12 Jan 1996 12:48:13 -0500
Well, I haven't updated the tale in a while.  I guess the holidays and 
work and whatnot have taken priority, but the trip notes are back.  
Tomorrow, I begin teardown for restoration on Emma.  I've since gotten a 
dash and headrests for her.  "Cause she's a '69, the headrests are the 
unusual dual-post kind unique to that year.  I lucked into a nice pair, 
so we're on our way!  More to come.

Part 7 (I think) Hallucinating in New Mexico

Driving makes you a little crazy after a while.  Before you know it, you 
think you can drive on forever.  The longest drive I'd ever done was from 
San Diego to San Jose, about two-thirds the length of California, maybe 
600 miles or so.  I'm not sure if the MG vibrated something loose in my 
head, or if I had just been lured into a sense of invulnerability by the 
long trip.  I rumbled through El Paso, which from Interstate 10 in the 
dark, looks like a rambling assemblage of neon, strip malls and discount 
outlets.  I wasn't about to stay here so I continued the next thirty-odd 
miles to Las Cruces, New Mexico.

I stopped briefly in Las Cruces to call Jen and my folks to let them know 
I was still alive, despite crossing most of Texas in a single day, got 
some gas, and decided to push through all the way to Tuscon.  That's the 
crazy droning thing, I'm usually not THAT pigheaded.  The temperature 
fell steadily as we climbed out of Las Cruces toward the high desert of 
southern New Mexico and Arizona.  The heater valve was also stuck closed. 
 Here we go again.  In Demming, I decided to pull into the parking lot of 
a Motel 6 to fix the problem.  Either it was a two-minute solution, or 
here I'd stay the night.  It turned out the heater cable was frayed, but 
opening the hood and forcing the valve open with a gloved hand did the 
trick.  I would be warm all the way to Tuscon.

Then I began to hallucinate.  Driving out of Demming and toward 
Lordsberg, houses appeared out of the pitch black to my right.  
Silhouettes of small dwellings stretched for what seemed like miles.  As 
I drove, the houses neither became more or less dense in their 
distribution along the highway.  I was fascinated by the oddity of these 
neat little cottages lining the road.  Then I thought I saw the cottages 
move, in fact, they seemed to be moving at my exact speed, never 
changing.  I first hoped that I hadn't been slipped some peyote in the 
sandwich I bought earlier in Las Cruces.  This was too weird.

The west-bound train was no more than thirty feet from the road, and its 
oversize box cars paralleled my route exactly.  It wasn't until a few 
miles from Lordsberg that the small town's streetlamp glow illuminated 
the train enough to be clearly seen for what it was.  Some 800 miles into 
the drive, I decided I'd had enough.

To be continued.....

"When I was a toddler, my dad wanted me to learn to program, but my mom 
thought it would be better if I learned to read and write and spell."

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